The Trial of Jesus from a Lawyer's Standpoint, Vol. 2 (of 2)
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Title: The Trial of Jesus from a Lawyer's Standpoint, Vol. 2 (of 2)
Author: Walter M. Chandler
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRIAL OF JESUS FROM A LAWYER'S STANDPOINT, VOL. 2 (OF 2) ***
Transcriber's notes
Variable spelling has been retained. Minor punctuation inconsistencies
have been silently corrected. A list of other corrections can be found
at the end of the book. Footnotes were sequentially numbered and placed
at the end of the text.
Mark up: _italics_
THE TRIAL OF JESUS
[Illustration: CHRIST BEFORE PILATE (MUNKACSY)]
THE TRIAL OF JESUS
FROM A LAWYER'S STANDPOINT
BY
WALTER M. CHANDLER
OF THE NEW YORK BAR
VOLUME II
THE ROMAN TRIAL
THE EMPIRE PUBLISHING CO.
60 WALL STREET, NEW YORK CITY
1908
Copyright, 1908, by WALTER M. CHANDLER
_All rights reserved_
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING PAGE
CHRIST BEFORE PILATE (Munkacsy) _Frontispiece_
TIBERIUS CÆSAR (Antique Sculpture) 68
PONTIUS PILATE (Munkacsy) 81
CHRIST LEAVING THE PRÆTORIUM (Doré) 141
THE CRUCIFIXION (Munkacsy) 175
JUPITER (Antique Sculpture) 195
AVE CÆSAR! IO SATURNALIA (Alma-Tadema) 240
THE DYING GLADIATOR (Antique Sculpture) 260
READING FROM HOMER (Alma-Tadema) 270
CONTENTS OF VOLUME TWO
PAGE
PREFACE TO VOLUME TWO ix
PART 1
_THE ROMAN TRIAL_
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A TWOFOLD JURISDICTION 3
II. NUMBER OF REGULAR TRIALS 9
III. POWERS AND DUTIES OF PILATE 24
IV. MODE OF TRIAL IN ROMAN CAPITAL CASES 34
V. ROMAN FORMS OF PUNISHMENT 53
VI. ROMAN LAW APPLICABLE TO THE TRIAL OF JESUS 68
VII. PONTIUS PILATE 81
VIII. JESUS BEFORE PILATE 96
IX. JESUS BEFORE HEROD 119
X. JESUS AGAIN BEFORE PILATE 129
XI. LEGAL ANALYSIS AND SUMMARY OF THE ROMAN TRIAL OF JESUS 141
PART II
_GRÆCO-ROMAN PAGANISM_
I. THE GRÆCO-ROMAN RELIGION 198
II. GRÆCO-ROMAN SOCIAL LIFE 236
_APPENDICES_
I. CHARACTERS OF THE SANHEDRISTS WHO TRIED JESUS 291
II. ACTS OF PILATE 327
BIBLIOGRAPHY 383
INDEX 389
PREFACE TO VOLUME TWO
Sufficient was said concerning the entire work in the preface to volume
one to warrant a very brief preface to volume two.
The reader will notice that the plan of treatment of the Roman trial of
Jesus is radically different from that employed in the Hebrew trial.
There is no Record of Fact in the second volume, for the reason that the
Record of Fact dealt with in the first volume is common to the two
trials. Again, there is no Brief of the Roman trial and no systematic
and exhaustive treatment of Roman criminal law in the second volume,
corresponding with such a treatment of the Hebrew trial, under Hebrew
criminal law, in the first volume. This is explained by the fact that
the Sanhedrin found Jesus guilty, while both Pilate and Herod found Him
not guilty. A proper consideration then of the Hebrew trial became a
matter of review on appeal, requiring a Brief, containing a complete
statement of facts, an ample exposition of law, and sufficient argument
to show the existence of error in the judgment. The nature of the
verdicts pronounced by Pilate and by Herod rendered these things
unnecessary in dealing with the Roman trial.
In Part II of this volume, Græco-Roman Paganism at the time of Christ
has been treated. It is evident that this part of the treatise has no
legal connection with the trial of Jesus. It was added simply to give
coloring and atmosphere to the painting of the great tragedy. It will
serve the further purpose, it is believed, of furnishing a key to the
motives of the leading actors in the drama, by describing their social,
religious, and political environments. The strictly legal features of a
great criminal trial are rarely ever altogether sufficient for a proper
understanding of even the judicial aspects of the case. The religious
faith of Pilate, the judge, is quite as important a factor in
determining the merits of the Roman trial, as is the religious belief of
Jesus, the prisoner. This contention will be fully appreciated after a
careful perusal of Chapter VI of this volume.
Short biographical sketches of about forty members of the Great
Sanhedrin who tried Jesus have been given under Appendix I at the end of
this work. They were originally written by MM. Lémann, two of the
greatest Hebrew scholars of France, and are doubtless authoritative and
correct. These sketches will familiarize the reader with the names and
characters of a majority of the Hebrew judges of Jesus. And it may be
added that they are a very valuable addition to the general work, since
the character of the tribunal is an important consideration in the trial
of any case, civil or criminal.
The apocryphal Acts of Pilate have been given under Appendix II. But the
author does not thereby vouch for their authenticity. They have been
added because of their very intimate connection with the trial of Jesus;
and for the further reason that, whether authentic or not, quotations
from them are to be found everywhere in literature, sacred and secular,
dealing with this subject. The mystery of their origin, the question of
their genuineness, and the final disposition that will be made of them,
render the Acts of Pilate a subject of surpassing interest to the
student of ancient documents.
WALTER M. CHANDLER.
NEW YORK CITY, July 1, 1908.
PART I
_THE ROMAN TRIAL_
Christus, Tiberio imperitante, per procuratorem Pontium Pilatum
supplicio affectus est.--TACITUS.
CHAPTER I
A TWOFOLD JURISDICTION
The Hebrew trial of Jesus having ended, the Roman trial began. The
twofold character of the proceedings against the Christ invested them
with a solemn majesty, an awful grandeur. The two mightiest
jurisdictions of the earth assumed cognizance of charges against the Man
of Galilee, the central figure of all history. "His tomb," says
Lamartine, "was the grave of the Old World and the cradle of the New,"
and now upon His life before He descended into the tomb, Rome, the
mother of laws, and Jerusalem, the destroyer of prophets, sat in
judgment.
The Sanhedrin, or Grand Council, which conducted the Hebrew trial of
Jesus was the high court of justice and the supreme tribunal of the
Jews. It numbered seventy-one members. Its powers were legislative,
executive, and judicial. It exercised all the functions of education, of
government, and of religion. It was the national parliament of the
Hebrew Theocracy, the human administrator of the divine will. It was the
most august tribunal that ever interpreted or administered religion to
man. Its judges applied the laws of the most peculiar and venerable
system of jurisprudence known to civilized mankind, and condemned upon
the charge of blasphemy against Jehovah, the most precious and
illustrious of the human race. Standing alone, the Hebrew trial of
Christ would have been the most thrilling and impressive judicial
proceeding in all history. The Mosaic Code, whose provisions form the
basis of this trial, is the foundation of the Bible, the most potent
juridical as well as spiritual agency in the universe. In all the courts
of Christendom it binds the consciences, if it does not mold the
convictions, of judge and jury in passing judgment upon the rights of
life, liberty, and property. The Bible is everywhere to be found. It is
read in the jungles of Africa, while crossing burning deserts, and
amidst Arctic snows. No ship ever puts to sea without this sacred
treasure. It is found in the cave of the hermit, in the hut of the
peasant, in the palace of the king, and in the Vatican of the pope. It
adorns the altar where bride and bridegroom meet to pledge eternal love.
It sheds its hallowing influence upon the baptismal font where infancy
is christened into religious life. Its divine precepts furnish elements
of morals and manliness in formative life to jubilant youth; cast a
radiant charm about the strength of lusty manhood; and when life's
pilgrimage is ended, offer to the dying patriarch, who clasps it to his
bosom, a sublime solace as he crosses the great divide and passes into
the twilight's purple gloom. This noble book has furnished not only the
most enduring laws and the sublimest religious truths, but inspiration
as well to the grandest intellectual triumphs. It is literally woven
into the literature of the world, and few books of modern times are
worth reading that do not reflect the sentiments of its sacred pages.
And it was the Mosaic Code, the basis of this book, that furnished the
legal guide to the Sanhedrin in the trial of the Christ. Truly it may be
said that no other trial mentioned in history would have been comparable
to this, if the proceedings had ended here. But to the Hebrew was added
Roman cognizance, and the result was a judicial transaction at once
unique and sublime. If the sacred spirit of the Hebrew law has
illuminated the conscience of the world in every age, it must not be
forgotten that "the written reason of the Roman law has been silently
and studiously transfused" into all our modern legal and political life.
The Roman judicial system is incomparable in the history of
jurisprudence. Judea gave religion, Greece gave letters, and Rome gave
laws to mankind. Thus runs the judgment of the world. A fine sense of
justice was native to the Roman mind. A spirit of domination was the
mental accompaniment of this trait. The mighty abstraction called Rome
may be easily resolved into two cardinal concrete elements: the Legion
and the Law. The legion was the unit of the military system through
which Rome conquered the world. The law was the cementing bond between
the conquered states and the sovereign city on the hills. The legion was
the guardian and protector of the physical boundaries of the Empire,
and Roman citizens felt contented and secure, as long as the
legionaries were loyal to the standards and the eagles. The presence of
barbarians at the gate created not so much consternation and despair
among the citizens of Rome, as did the news of the mutiny of the
soldiers of Germanicus on the Rhine. What the legion was to the body,
the law was to the soul of Rome--the highest expression of its sanctity
and majesty. And when her physical body that once extended from Scotland
to Judea, and from Dacia to Abyssinia was dead, in the year 476 A.D.,
her soul rose triumphant in her laws and established a second Roman
Empire over the minds and consciences of men. The Corpus Juris Civilis
of Justinian is a text-book in the greatest universities of the world,
and Roman law is to-day the basis of the jurisprudence of nearly every
state of continental Europe. The Germans never submitted to Cæsar and
his legions. They were the first to resist successfully, then to attack
vigorously, and to overthrow finally the Roman Empire. And yet, until a
few years ago, Germans obeyed implicitly the edicts and decrees of Roman
prætors and tribunes. Is it any wonder, then, that the lawyers of all
modern centuries have looked back with filial love and veneration to the
mighty jurisconsults of the imperial republic? Is it any wonder that the
tragedy of the Prætorium and Golgotha, aside from its sacred aspects, is
the most notable event in history? Jesus was arraigned in one day, in
one city, before the sovereign courts of the universe; before the
Sanhedrin, the supreme tribunal of a divinely commissioned race; before
the court of the Roman Empire that determined the legal and political
rights of men throughout the known world. The Nazarene stood charged
with blasphemy and with treason against the enthroned monarchs
represented by these courts; blasphemy against Jehovah who, from the
lightning-lit summit of Sinai, proclaimed His laws to mankind; treason
against Cæsar, enthroned and uttering his will to the world amidst the
pomp and splendor of Rome. History records no other instance of a trial
conducted before the courts of both Heaven and earth; the court of God
and the court of man; under the law of Israel and the law of Rome;
before Caiaphas and Pilate, as the representatives of these courts and
administrators of these laws.
Approaching more closely the consideration of the nature and character
of the Roman trial, we are confronted at once by several pertinent and
interesting questions.
In the first place, were there two distinct trials of Jesus? If so, why
were there two trials instead of one? Were the two trials separate and
independent? If not, was the second trial a mere review of the first, or
was the first a mere preliminary to the second?
Again, what charges were brought against Jesus at the hearing before
Pilate? Were these charges the same as those preferred against Him at
the trial before the Sanhedrin? Upon what charge was He finally
condemned and crucified?
Again, what Roman law was applicable to the charges made against Jesus
to Pilate? Did Pilate apply these laws either in letter or in spirit?
Was there an attempt by Pilate to attain substantial justice, either
with or without the due observance of forms of law?
Did Pilate apply Hebrew or Roman law to the charges presented to him
against the Christ?
What forms of criminal procedure, if any, were employed by Pilate in
conducting the Roman trial of Jesus? If not legally, was Pilate
politically justified in delivering Jesus to be crucified?
A satisfactory answer to several of these questions, in the introductory
chapters of this volume, is deemed absolutely essential to a thorough
understanding of the discussion of the trial proper which will follow.
The plan proposed is to describe first the powers and duties of Pilate
as presiding judge at the trial of Christ. And for this purpose, general
principles of Roman provincial administration will be outlined and
discussed; the legal and political status of the subject Jew in his
relationship to the conquering Roman will be considered; and the exact
requirements of criminal procedure in Roman capital trials, at the time
of Christ, will, if possible, be determined. It is believed that in the
present case it will be more logical and effective to state first what
should have been done by Pilate in the trial of Jesus, and then follow
with an account of what was actually done, than to reverse this order of
procedure.
CHAPTER II
NUMBER OF REGULAR TRIALS
_Were there two regular trials of Jesus?_ In the first volume of this
work this question was reviewed at length in the introduction to the
Brief. The authorities were there cited and discussed. It was there seen
that one class of writers deny the existence of the Great Sanhedrin at
the time of Christ. These same writers declare that there could have
been no Hebrew trial of Jesus, since there was no competent Hebrew court
in existence to try Him. This class of critics assert that the so-called
Sanhedrin that met in the palace of Caiaphas was an ecclesiastical body,
acting without judicial authority; and that their proceedings were
merely preparatory to charges to be presented to Pilate, who was alone
competent to try capital cases. Those who make this contention seek to
uphold it by saying that the errors were so numerous and the proceedings
so flagrant, according to the Gospel account, that there could have been
no trial at all before the Sanhedrin; that the party of priests who
arrested and examined Jesus did not constitute a court, but rather a
vigilance committee.
On the other hand, other writers contend that the only regular trial was
that before the Sanhedrin; and that the appearance before Pilate was
merely for the purpose of securing his confirmation of a regular
judicial sentence which had already been pronounced. Renan, the ablest
exponent of this class, says: "The course which the priests had resolved
to pursue in regard to Jesus was quite in conformity with the
established law. The plan of the enemies of Jesus was to convict Him, by
the testimony of witnesses and by His own avowals, of blasphemy and of
outrage against the Mosaic religion, to condemn Him to death according
to law, and then to get the condemnation sanctioned by Pilate."
Still another class of writers contend that there were two distinct
trials. Innes thus tersely and forcibly states the proposition: "Whether
it was legitimate or not for the Jews to condemn for a capital crime, on
this occasion they did so. Whether it was legitimate or not for Pilate
to try over again an accused whom they had condemned, on this occasion
he did so. There were certainly two trials. And the dialogue already
narrated expresses with a most admirable terseness the struggle which we
should have expected between the effort of the Jews to get a mere
countersign of their sentence, and the determination of Pilate to assume
the full judicial responsibility, whether of first instance or of
révision." This contention, it is believed, is right, and has been acted
upon in dividing the general treatise into two volumes, and in devoting
each to a separate trial of the case.
Why were there two trials of Jesus? When the Sanhedrists had condemned
Christ to death upon the charge of blasphemy, why did they not lead Him
away to execution, and stone Him to death, as their law required? Why
did they seek the aid of Pilate and invoke the sanction of Roman
authority? The answer to these questions is to be found in the historic
relationship that existed, at the time of the crucifixion, between the
sovereign Roman Empire and the dependent province of Judea. The student
of history will remember that the legions of Pompey overran Palestine in
the year 63 B.C., and that the land of the Jews then became a subject
state. After the deposition of Archelaus, A.D. 6, Judea became a Roman
province, and was governed by procurators who were sent out from Rome.
The historian Rawlinson has described the political situation of Judea,
at the time of Christ, as "complicated and anomalous, undergoing
frequent changes, but retaining through them all certain peculiarities
which made that country unique among the dependencies of Rome. Having
passed under Roman rule with the consent and by the assistance of a
large party of its inhabitants, it was allowed to maintain for a while a
sort of semi-independence. A mixture of Roman with native power resulted
from this cause and a complication in a political status difficult to be
thoroughly understood by one not native and contemporary."
The difficulty in determining the exact political status of the Jews at
the time of Christ has given birth to the radically different views
concerning the number and nature of the trials of Jesus. The most
learned critics are in direct antagonism on the point. More than forty
years ago Salvador and Dupin debated the question in France. The former
contended that the Sanhedrin retained complete authority after the Roman
conquest to try even capital crimes, and that sentence of death
pronounced by the supreme tribunal of the Jews required only the
countersign or approval of the Roman procurator. On the other hand, it
was argued by Dupin that the Sanhedrin had no right whatever to try
cases of a capital nature; that their whole procedure was a usurpation;
and that the only competent and legitimate trial of Christ was the one
conducted by Pilate. How difficult the problem is of solution will be
apparent when we reflect that both these disputants were able, learned,
conscientious men who, with the facts of history in front of them,
arrived at entirely different conclusions. Amidst the general confusion
and uncertainty, the reader must rely upon himself, and appeal to the
facts and philosophy of history for light and guidance.
In seeking to ascertain the political relationship between Rome and
Judea at the time of Christ, two important considerations should be kept
in mind: (1) That there was no treaty or concordat, defining mutual
rights and obligations, existing between the two powers; Romans were the
conquerors and Jews were the conquered; the subject Jews enjoyed just so
much religious and political freedom as the conquering Romans saw fit
to grant them; (2) that it was the policy of the Roman government to
grant to subject states the greatest amount of freedom in local
self-government that was consistent with the interests and sovereignty
of the Roman people. These two considerations are fundamental and
indispensable in forming a correct notion of the general relations
between the two powers.
The peculiar character of Judea as a fragment of the mighty Roman Empire
should also be kept clearly in mind. Roman conquest, from first to last,
resulted in three distinct types of political communities more or less
strongly bound by ties of interest to Rome. These classes were: (1) Free
states; (2) allied states; and (3) subject states. The communities of
Italy were in the main, free and allied, and were members of a great
military confederacy. The provinces beyond Italy were, in the main,
subject states and dependent upon the good will and mercy of Rome. The
free states received from Rome a charter of privileges (_lex data_)
which, however, the Roman senate might at any time revoke. The allied
cities were bound by a sworn treaty (_fædus_), a breach of which was a
cause of war. In either case, whether of charter or treaty, the grant of
privileges raised the state or people on whom it was conferred to the
level of the Italian communes and secured to its inhabitants absolute
control of their own finances, free and full possession of their land,
which exempted them from the payment of tribute, and, above all, allowed
them entire freedom in the administration of their local laws. The
subject states were ruled by Roman governors who administered the
so-called law of the province (_lex provinciæ_). This law was peculiar
to each province and was framed to meet all the exigencies of provincial
life. It was sometimes the work of a conquering general, assisted by a
commission of ten men appointed by the senate. At other times, its
character was determined by the decrees of the emperor and the senate,
as well as by the edicts of the prætor and procurator. In any case, the
law of the province (_lex provinciæ_) was the sum total of the local
provincial law which Rome saw fit to allow the people of the conquered
state to retain, with Roman decrees and regulations superadded. These
added decrees and regulations were always determined by local provincial
conditions. The Romans were no sticklers for consistency and uniformity
in provincial administration. Adaptability and expediency were the main
traits of the lawgiving and government-imposing genius of Rome. The
payment of taxes and the furnishing of auxiliary troops were the chief
exactions imposed upon conquered states. An enlightened public policy
prompted the Romans to grant to subject communities the greatest amount
of freedom consistent with Roman sovereignty. Two main reasons formed
the basis of this policy. One was the economy of time and labor, for the
Roman official staff was not large enough to successfully perform those
official duties which were usually incumbent upon the local courts.
Racial and religious differences alone would have impeded and prevented
a successful administration of local government by Roman diplomats and
officers. Another reason for Roman noninterference in local provincial
affairs was that loyalty was created and peace promoted among the
provincials by the enjoyment of their own laws and religions. To such an
extent was this policy carried by the Romans that it is asserted by the
best historians that there was little real difference in practice
between the rights exercised by free and those enjoyed by subject
states. On this point, Mommsen says: "In regard to the extent of
application, the jurisdiction of the native courts and judicatories
among subject communities can scarcely have been much more restricted
than among the federated communities; while in administration and in
civil jurisdiction we find the same principles operative as in legal
procedure and criminal laws."[1] The difference between the rights
enjoyed by subject and those exercised by free states was that the
former were subject to the whims and caprices of Rome, while the latter
were protected by a written charter. A second difference was that Roman
citizens residing within the boundaries of subject states had their own
law and their own judicatories. The general result was that the citizens
of subject states were left free to govern themselves subject to the two
great obligations of taxation and military service. The Roman
authorities, however, could and did interfere in legislation and in
administration whenever Roman interests required.
Now, in the light of the facts and principles just stated, what was the
exact political status of the Jews at the time of Christ? Judea was a
subject state. Did the general laws of Roman provincial administration
apply to this province? Or were peculiar rights and privileges granted
to the strange people who inhabited it? A great German writer answers in
the affirmative. Geib says: "Only one province ... namely Judea, at
least in the earlier days of the empire, formed an exception to all the
arrangements hitherto described. Whereas in the other provinces the
whole criminal jurisdiction was in the hands of the governor, and only
in the most important cases had the supreme imperial courts to
decide--just as in the least important matters the municipal courts
did--the principle that applied in Judea was that at least in regard to
questions of religious offenses the high priest with the Sanhedrin could
pronounce even death sentences, for the carrying out of which, however,
the confirmation of the procurator was required."
That Roman conquest did not blot out Jewish local self-government; and
that the Great Sanhedrin still retained judicial and administrative
power, subject to Roman authority in all matters pertaining to the local
affairs of the Jews, is thus clearly and pointedly stated by Schürer:
"As regards the area over which the jurisdiction of the supreme
Sanhedrin extended, it has been already remarked above that its _civil_
authority was restricted, in the time of Christ, to the eleven
toparchies of Judea proper. And accordingly, for this reason, it had no
judicial authority over Jesus Christ so long as He remained in Galilee.
It was only as soon as He entered Judea that He came directly under its
jurisdiction. In a certain sense, no doubt, the Sanhedrin exercised
such jurisdiction over _every_ Jewish community in the world, and in
that sense over Galilee as well. Its orders were regarded as binding
throughout the entire domain of orthodox Judaism. It had power, for
example, to issue warrants to the congregations (synagogues) in Damascus
for the apprehension of the Christians in that quarter (Acts ix. 2;
xxii. 5; xxvi. 12). At the same time, however, the extent to which the
Jewish communities were willing to yield obedience to the orders of the
Sanhedrin always depended on how far they were favorably disposed toward
it. It was only within the limits of Judea proper that it exercised any
direct authority. There could not possibly be a more erroneous way of
defining the extent of its jurisdiction as regards the kind of causes
with which it was competent to deal than to say that it was the
_spiritual or theological_ tribunal in contradistinction to the civil
judicatories of the Romans. On the contrary, it would be more correct to
say that it formed, in contrast to the foreign authority of Rome, that
_supreme native_ court which here, as almost everywhere else, the Romans
had allowed to continue as before, only imposing certain restrictions
with regard to competency. To this tribunal then belonged all those
judicial matters and all those measures of an administrative character
which either could not be competently dealt with by the inferior or
local courts or which the Roman procurator had not specially reserved
for himself."[2]
The closing words of the last quotation suggest an important fact which
furnishes the answer to the question asked at the beginning of this
chapter, Why were there two trials of Jesus? Schürer declares that the
Sanhedrin retained judicial and administrative power in all local
matters which the "procurator had not specially reserved for himself."
Now, it should be borne in mind that there is not now in existence and
that there probably never existed any law, treaty or decree declaring
what judicial acts the Sanhedrin was competent to perform and what acts
were reserved to the authority of the Roman governor. It is probable
that in all ordinary crimes the Jews were allowed a free hand and final
decision by the Romans. No interference took place unless Roman
interests were involved or Roman sovereignty threatened. But one fact is
well established by the great weight of authority: that the question of
sovereignty was raised whenever the question of life and death arose;
and that Rome reserved to herself, in such a case, the prerogative of
final judicial determination. Even this contention, however, has been
opposed by both ancient and modern writers of repute; and, for this
reason, it has been thought necessary to cite authorities and offer
arguments in favor of the proposition that the right of life or death,
_jus vitæ aut necis_, had passed from Jewish into Roman hands at the
time of Christ. Both sacred and profane history support the affirmative
of this proposition. Regarding this matter, Schürer says: "There is a
special interest attaching to the question as to how far the
jurisdiction of the Sanhedrin was limited by the authority of the Roman
procurator. We accordingly proceed to observe that, inasmuch as the
Roman system of provincial government was not strictly carried out in
the case of Judea, as the simple fact of its being administered by means
of a procurator plainly shows, the Sanhedrin was still left in the
enjoyment of a comparatively high degree of independence. Not only did
it exercise civil jurisdiction, and that according to Jewish law (which
was only a matter of course, as otherwise a Jewish court of justice
would have been simply inconceivable), but it also enjoyed a
considerable amount of criminal jurisdiction as well. It had an
independent authority in regard to political affairs, and consequently
possessed the right of ordering arrests to be made by its own officers
(Matt. xxvi. 47; Mark xiv. 43; Acts iv. 3; v. 17, 18). It had also the
power of finally disposing, on its own authority, of such cases as did
not involve sentence of death (Acts iv. 5-23; v. 21-40). It was only in
cases in which such sentence of death was pronounced that the judgment
required to be ratified by the authority of the procurator."[3]
The Jews contend, and, indeed, the Talmud states that "forty years
before the destruction of the temple the judgment of capital cases was
taken away from Israel."
Again, we learn from Josephus that the Jews had lost the power to
inflict capital punishment from the day of the deposition of Archelaus,
A.D. 6, when Judea became a Roman province and was placed under the
control of Roman procurators. The great Jewish historian says: "And now
Archelaus's part of Judea was reduced into a province, and Coponius, one
of the equestrian order among the Romans, was sent as procurator, having
the power of life and death put into his hands by Cæsar."[4]
Again, we are informed that Annas was deposed from the high priesthood
by the procurator Valerius Gratus, A.D. 14, for imposing and executing
capital sentences. One of his sons, we learn from Josephus, was also
deposed by King Agrippa for condemning James, the brother of Jesus, and
several others, to death by stoning. At the same time, Agrippa reminded
the high priest that the Sanhedrin could not lawfully assemble without
the consent of the procurator.[5]
That the Jews had lost and that the Roman procurators possessed the
power over life and death is also clearly indicated by the New Testament
account of the trial of Jesus. One passage explicitly states that Pilate
claimed the right to impose and carry out capital sentences. Addressing
Jesus, Pilate said: "Knowest thou not that I have power to crucify thee
and have power to release thee?"[6]
In another passage, the Jews admitted that the power of life and death
had passed away from them. Answering a question of Pilate, at the time
of the trial, they answered: "It is not lawful for us to put any man to
death."[7]
If we keep in mind the fact stated by Geib that "the principle that
applied in Judea was that at least in regard to questions of religious
offense the high priest with the Sanhedrin could pronounce even death
sentences, for the carrying out of which, however, the confirmation of
the procurator was required," we are then in a position to answer
finally and definitely the question, Why were there two trials of Jesus?
In the light of all the authorities cited and discussed in this chapter,
we feel justified in asserting that the Sanhedrin was competent to take
the initiative in the arrest and trial of Jesus on the charge of
blasphemy, this being a religious offense of the most awful gravity;
that this court was competent not only to try but to pass sentence of
death upon the Christ; but that its proceedings had to be retried or at
least reviewed before the sentence could be executed. Thus two trials
were necessary. The Hebrew trial was necessary, because a religious
offense was involved with which Rome refused to meddle, and of which she
refused to take cognizance in the first instance. The Roman trial was
necessary, because, instead of an acquittal which would have rendered
Roman interference unnecessary, a conviction involving the death
sentence had to be reviewed in the name of Roman sovereignty.
Having decided that there were two trials, we are now ready to consider
the questions: Were the two trials separate and independent? If not, was
the second trial a mere review of the first, or was the first a mere
preliminary to the second? No more difficult questions are suggested by
the trial of Jesus. It is, in fact, impossible to answer them with
certainty and satisfaction.
A possible solution is to be found in the nature of the charge
preferred against Jesus. It is reasonable to suppose that in the
conflict of jurisdiction between Jewish and Roman authority the
character of the crime would be a determining factor. In the case of
ordinary offenses it is probable that neither Jews nor Romans were
particular about the question of jurisdiction. It is more than probable
that the Roman governor would assert his right to try the case _de
novo_, where the offense charged either directly or remotely involved
the safety and sovereignty of the Roman state. It is entirely reasonable
to suppose that the Jews would insist on a final determination by
themselves of the merits of all offenses of a religious nature; and that
they would insist that the Roman governor should limit his action to a
mere countersign of their decree. It is believed that ordinarily these
principles would apply. But the trial of Jesus presents a peculiar
feature which makes the case entirely exceptional. And this peculiarity,
it is felt, contains a correct answer to the questions asked above.
Jesus was tried before the Sanhedrin on the charge of blasphemy. This
was a religious offense of the most serious nature. But when the Christ
was led before Pilate, this charge was abandoned and that of high
treason against Rome was substituted. Now, it is certain that a Roman
governor would not have allowed a Jewish tribunal to try an offense
involving high treason against Cæsar. This was a matter exclusively
under his control. It is thus certain that Pilate did not merely review
a sentence which had been passed by the Sanhedrin after a regular trial,
but that he tried _ab initio_ a charge that had not been presented
before the Jewish tribunal at the night session in the palace of
Caiaphas.
It will thus be seen that there were two trials of Jesus; that these
trials were separate and independent as far as the charges, judges, and
jurisdictions were concerned; and that the only common elements were the
persons of the accusers and the accused.
CHAPTER III
POWERS AND DUTIES OF PILATE
What were the powers and duties of Pilate as procurator of Judea? What
forms of criminal procedure, if any, were employed by him in conducting
the Roman trial of Jesus? This chapter will be devoted to answering
these questions.
The New Testament Gospels denominate Pilate the "governor" of Judea. A
more exact designation is contained in the Latin phrase, _procurator
Cæsaris_; the procurator of Cæsar. By this is meant that Pilate was the
deputy, attorney, or personal representative of Tiberius Cæsar in the
province of Judea. The powers and duties of his office were by no means
limited to the financial functions of a Roman quæstor, a _procurator
fiscalis_. "He was a procurator _cum potestate_; a governor with civil,
criminal, and military jurisdiction; subordinated no doubt in rank to
the adjacent governor of Syria, but directly responsible to his great
master at Rome."
A clear conception of the official character of Pilate is impossible
unless we first thoroughly understand the official character of the man
whose political substitute he was. A thorough understanding of the
official character of Tiberius Cæsar is impossible unless we first fully
comprehend the political changes wrought by the civil wars of Rome in
which Julius Cæsar defeated Cneius Pompey at the battle of Pharsalia and
made himself dictator and undisputed master of the Roman world. With the
ascendency of Cæsar the ancient republic became extinct. But liberty was
still cherished in the hearts of Romans, and the title of king was
detestable. The hardy virtues and democratic simplicity of the early
republic were still remembered; and patriots like Cicero had dreamed of
the restoration of the ancient order of things. But Roman conquest was
complete, Roman manners were corrupt, and Roman patriotism was
paralyzed. The hand of a dictator guided by a single intelligence was
the natural result of the progressive degradation of the Roman state.
The logical and inevitable outcome of the death of Cæsar and the
dissolution of the Triumvirate was the régime of Augustus, a monarchy
veiled under republican forms. Recognizing Roman horror of absolutism,
Roman love of liberty, and Roman detestation of kingly power, Augustus,
while in fact an emperor, claimed to be only a plain Roman citizen
intrusted with general powers of government. He affected to despise
public honors, disclaimed every idea of personal superiority, and
exhibited extreme simplicity of manners in public and private life. This
was the strategy of a successful politician who sought to conceal
offensive reality under the cloak of a pleasant deception. Great Cæsar
fallen at the foot of Pompey's statue was a solemn reminder to Augustus
that the dagger of the assassin was still ready to defend the memory of
freedom, after liberty was, in reality, dead. And the refusal by the
greatest of the Romans, at the feast of the Lupercal, to accept a kingly
crown when it was thrice offered him by Antony, was a model of discreet
behavior and political caution for the first and most illustrious of the
emperors. In short, Augustus dared not destroy the laws or assault the
constitution of the state. But he accomplished his object, nevertheless.
"He gathered into his own hands the whole honors and privileges, which
the state had for centuries distributed among its great magistrates and
representatives. He became perpetual Princeps Senatus, or leader of the
legislative house. He became perpetual Pontifex Maximus, or chief of the
national religion. He became perpetual Tribune, or guardian of the
people, with his person thereby made sacred and inviolable. He became
perpetual Consul, or supreme magistrate over the whole Roman world, with
the control of its revenues, the disposal of its armies, and the
execution of its laws. And lastly he became perpetual Imperator, or
military chief, to whom every legionary throughout the world took the
_sacramentum_, and whose sword swept the globe from Gibraltar to the
Indus and the Baltic. And yet in all he was a simple citizen--a mere
magistrate of the Republic. Only in this one man was now visibly
accumulated and concentrated all that for centuries had broadened and
expanded under the magnificent abstraction of Rome." The boundless
authority of Rome was thus centered in the hands of a single person.
Consuls, tribunes, prætors, proconsuls, and procurators were merely the
agents and representatives of this person.
Tiberius Cæsar, the political master of Pontius Pilate, was the
successor of Augustus and the first inheritor of his constitution. Under
this constitution, Augustus had divided the provinces into two classes.
The centrally located and peacefully disposed were governed by
proconsuls appointed by the senate. The more distant and turbulent were
subjected by Augustus to his personal control, and were governed by
procurators who acted as his deputies or personal representatives. Judea
came in his second class, and the real governor of his province was the
emperor himself. Tiberius Cæsar was thus the real procurator of Judea at
the time of the crucifixion and Pilate was his political substitute who
did his bidding and obeyed his will. Whatever Tiberius might have done,
Pilate might have done. We are thus enabled to judge the extent of
Pilate's powers; powers clothed with _imperium_ and revocable only by
the great procurator at Rome.
In the government of the purely subject states of a province, the
procurator exercised the unlimited jurisdiction of the military
_imperium_. No law abridged the single and sovereign exercise of his
will. Custom, however, having in fact the force of law, prescribed that
he should summon to his aid a council of advisers. This advisory body
was composed of two elements: (1) Roman citizens resident in this
particular locality where the governor was holding court; and (2)
members of his personal staff known as the Prætorian Cohort. The
governor, in his conduct of judicial proceedings, might solicit the
opinions of the members of his council. He might require them to vote
upon the question at issue; and might, if he pleased, abide by the
decision of the majority. But no rule of law required him to do it; it
was merely a concession and a courtesy; it was not a legal duty.
Again, when it is said that the procurator exercised the "unlimited
jurisdiction of the military _imperium_," we must interpret this,
paradoxical though it may seem, in a restricted sense; that is, we must
recognize the existence of exceptions to the rule. It is unreasonable to
suppose that Rome, the mother of laws, ever contemplated the rule of
despotism and caprice in the administration of justice in any part of
the empire. It is true that the effect of the _imperium_, "as applied to
provincial governorship, was to make each _imperator_ a king in his own
domain"; but kings themselves have nearly always been subject to
restrictions; and the authorities are agreed that the _imperium_ of the
Roman procurator of the time of Christ was hemmed in by many
limitations. A few of these may be named.
In the first place, the rights guaranteed to subject states within the
provincial area by the law of the province (_lex provinciæ_) were the
first limitations upon his power.
Again, it is a well-known fact that Roman citizens could appeal from the
decision of the governor, in certain cases, to the emperor at Rome. Paul
exercised this right, because he was a Roman citizen.[8] Jesus could
not appeal from the judgment of Pilate, because He was not a Roman
citizen.
Again, fear of an aroused and indignant public sentiment which might
result in his removal by the emperor, exercised a salutary restraint
upon the conduct, if it did not abridge the powers of the governor.
These various considerations bring us now to the second question asked
in the beginning of this chapter: What forms of criminal procedure, if
any, were employed by Pilate in conducting the Roman trial of Jesus?
It is historically true that Pilate exercised, as procurator of Judea,
the unlimited jurisdiction of the military _imperium_; and that this
_imperium_ made him virtually an "_imperator_, a king in his own
domain." It is also historically true that the inhabitants of the purely
subject states of a province, who were not themselves Roman citizens,
when accused of crime, stood before a Roman governor with no protection
except the plea of justice against the summary exercise of absolute
power. In other words, in the employment of the unlimited jurisdiction
of the military _imperium_, a Roman governor, in the exercise of his
discretion, might, in the case of non-Roman citizens of a subject state,
throw all rules and forms of law to the wind, and decide the matter
arbitrarily and despotically. It may be that Pilate did this in this
case. But the best writers are agreed that this was not the policy of
the Roman governors in the administration of justice in the provinces at
the time of Christ. The lawgiving genius of Rome had then reached
maturity and approximate perfection in the organization of its criminal
tribunals. It is not probable, as before suggested, that despotism and
caprice would be systematically tolerated anywhere in the Roman world.
If the emperors at Rome were forced, out of regard for public sentiment,
to respect the constitution and the laws, it is reasonable to infer that
their personal representatives in the provinces were under the same
restraint. We feel justified then in asserting that Pilate, in the trial
of Jesus, should have applied certain laws and been governed by certain
definite rules of criminal procedure. What were these rules? A few
preliminary considerations will greatly aid the reader in arriving at an
answer to this question. It should be understood:
(1) That Pilate was empowered to apply either Roman law or the local law
in the trial of any case where the crime was an offense against both the
province and the empire, as in the crime of murder; but that in the case
of treason with which Jesus was charged he would apply the law of Rome
under forms of Roman procedure. It has been denied that Pilate had a
right to apply Jewish law in the government of his province; but this
denial is contrary to authority. Innes says: "The Roman governor
sanctioned, or even himself administered, the old law of the region."[9]
Schürer says: "It may be assumed that the administration of the civil
law was wholly in the hands of the Sanhedrin and native or local
magistrates: Jewish courts decided according to Jewish law. But even in
the criminal law this was almost invariably the case, only with this
exception, that death sentences required to be confirmed by the Roman
procurator. In such cases, the procurator decided, if he pleased,
according to Jewish law."[10] Greenidge says: "Even the first clause of
the Sicilian _lex_, if it contained no reference to jurisdiction by the
local magistrate, left the interpretation of the _native law_ wholly to
Roman _proprætors_."[11] It is thus clearly evident that Roman
procurators might apply either Roman or local laws in ordinary cases.
(2) That Roman governors were empowered to apply the adjective law of
Rome to the substantive law of the province. In support of this
contention, Greenidge says: "The edict of the _proprætor_ or
pro-consul, ... clearly could not express the native law of each
particular state under its jurisdiction; but its generality and its
expansiveness admitted, as we shall see, of an application of Roman
forms to the substantive law of any particular city."[12]
(3) That the criminal procedure employed by Pilate in the trial of Jesus
should have been the criminal procedure of a capital case tried at Rome,
during the reign of Tiberius Cæsar. This fact is very evident from the
authorities. The trial of capital cases at Rome furnished models for
similar trials in the provinces. In the exercise of the unlimited
jurisdiction of the military _imperium_, Roman governors might disregard
these models. But, ordinarily, custom compelled them to follow the
criminal precedents of the Capital of the empire. The following
authorities support this contention.
Rosadi says: "It is also certain that in the provinces the same order
was observed in criminal cases as was observed in cases tried at
Rome."[13] This eminent Italian writer cites, in proof of this
statement, Pothier, Pandect. XLVIII. 2, n. 28.
Greenidge says: "Yet, in spite of this absence of legal checks, the
criminal procedure of the provinces was, in the protection of the
citizen as in other respects, closely modelled on that of Rome."[14]
To the same effect, but more clearly and pointedly expressed, is Geib,
who says: "It is nevertheless true that the knowledge which we have,
imperfect though it may be, leaves no doubt that the courts of the
Italian municipalities and provinces had, in all essential elements, the
permanent tribunals (_quæstiones perpetuæ_) as models; so that, in fact,
a description of the proceedings in the permanent tribunals is, at the
same time, to be regarded as a description of the proceedings in the
provincial courts."[15]
These permanent tribunals (_quæstiones perpetuæ_) were courts of
criminal jurisdiction established at Rome, and were in existence at the
time of the crucifixion. Proceedings in these courts in capital cases,
were models of criminal procedure in the provinces at the time of
Christ. It logically follows then that if we can ascertain the
successive steps in the trial of a capital case at Rome before one of
the permanent tribunals, we have accurate information of the exact form
of criminal procedure, not that Pilate did employ, but which he should
have employed in the trial of Jesus.
Fortunately for the purposes of this treatise, every step which Roman
law required in the trial of capital cases at Rome is as well known as
the provisions of any modern criminal code. From the celebrated Roman
trials in which Cicero appeared as an advocate, may be gleaned with
unerring accuracy the fullest information touching all the details of
capital trials at Rome at the time of Cicero.
It should be observed, at this point, that the period of Roman
jurisprudence just referred to was in the closing years of the republic;
and that certain changes in the organization of the tribunals as well as
in the forms of procedure were effected by the legislation of Augustus.
But we have it upon the authority of Rosadi that these changes were not
radical in the case of the criminal courts and that the rules and
regulations that governed procedure in them during the republic remained
substantially unchanged under the empire. The same writer tells us that
the permanent tribunals for the trial of capital cases did not go out of
existence until the third century of the Christian era.[16]
The following chapter will be devoted, in the main, to a description of
the mode of trial of capital cases at Rome before the permanent
tribunals at the time of Christ.
CHAPTER IV
MODE OF TRIAL IN ROMAN CAPITAL CASES
The reader should keep clearly and constantly in mind the purpose of
this chapter: to describe the mode of trial in capital cases at Rome
during the reign of Tiberius Cæsar; and thus to furnish a model of
criminal procedure which Pilate should have imitated in the trial of
Jesus at Jerusalem. In the last chapter, we saw that the proceedings of
the permanent tribunals (_quæstiones perpetuæ_) at Rome furnished models
for the trial of criminal cases in the provinces. It is now only
necessary to determine what the procedure of the permanent tribunals at
the time of Christ was, in order to understand what Pilate should have
done in the trial of Jesus. But the character of the _quæstiones
perpetuæ_, as well as the rules and regulations that governed their
proceedings, cannot well be understood without reference to the criminal
tribunals and modes of trial in criminal cases that preceded them. Roman
history discloses two distinct periods of criminal procedure before the
organization of the permanent tribunals about the beginning of the last
century of the Republic: (1) The period of the kings and (2) the period
of the early republic. Each of these will be here briefly considered.
_The Regal Period._--The earliest glimpses of Roman political life
reveal the existence of a sacred and military monarchy in which the king
is generalissimo of the army, chief pontiff of the national religion,
and supreme judge in civil and criminal matters over the lives and
property of the citizens. These various powers and attributes are
wrapped up in the _imperium_. By virtue of the _imperium_, the king
issued commands to the army and also exercised the highest judicial
functions over the lives and fortunes of his fellow-citizens. The kings
were thus military commanders and judges in one person, as the consuls
were after them. The monarch might sit alone and judge cases and impose
sentences; but the trial was usually a personal investigation undertaken
by him with the advice and aid of a chosen body of judges from the
senate or the pontifical college. According to Dionysius, Romulus
ordered that all crimes of a serious nature should be tried by the king,
but that all lighter offenses should be judged by the senate.[17] Little
confidence can be reposed in this statement, since the age and deeds of
Romulus are exceedingly legendary and mythical. But it is historically
true that in the regal period of Rome the kings were the supreme judges
in all civil and criminal matters.
_The Early Republican Period._--The abolition of the monarchy and the
establishment of the republic witnessed the distribution of the powers
of government formerly exercised by the king among a number of
magistrates and public officers. Consuls, tribunes, prætors, ædiles,
both curule and plebeian, exercised, under the republic, judicial
functions in criminal matters.
The consuls were supreme criminal judges at the beginning of the
republic, and were clothed with unlimited power in matters of life and
death. This is shown by the condemnation and execution of the sons of
Brutus and their fellow-conspirators.[18] Associated with the consuls
were, at first, two annually appointed quæstors whom they nominated. The
functions of the quæstors were as unlimited as those of their superiors,
the consuls; but their jurisdiction was confined chiefly to criminal
matters and finance.
The tribunes, sacred and inviolable in their persons as representatives
of the _plebs_ and as their protectors against patrician oppression,
exercised at first merely a negative control over the regular
magistracies of the community. But, finally, they became the chief
public prosecutors of political criminals.
The prætors, whose chief jurisdiction was in civil matters, were
potentially as fully criminal judges as the consuls, and there may have
been a time when a portion of criminal jurisdiction was actually in
their hands. In the later republic, they presided over the _quæstiones
perpetuæ_, permanent criminal tribunals.
The ædiles are found in Roman history exercising functions of criminal
jurisdiction, although their general powers were confined to the special
duties of caring for the games, the market, and the archives.
But the criminal jurisdiction of the magistrates who replaced the king
at the downfall of the monarchy was abridged and almost destroyed by the
famous _lex Valeria_ (_de provocatione_). This law was proposed 509 B.C.
by Publius Valerius, one of the first consuls of Rome, and provided that
no magistrate should have power to execute a sentence of death against a
Roman citizen who had appealed to the judgment of the people in their
public assembly. This _lex_ was the _magna charta_ of the Romans and was
justly regarded by them as the great palladium of their civil liberty.
And it was this law that inaugurated the popular jurisdiction of the
_comitia_. The result was that for more than three hundred years the
final determination of the question of life or death was in the hands of
the people themselves. From the passage of the Valerian law the function
of the magistrates was limited to the duty of convincing the people of
the guilt of an alleged criminal against whom they themselves had
already pronounced a preliminary sentence. The magistrates were,
therefore, not so much judges as prosecutors; the people were the final
judges in the case.
_Mode of Trial in the Comitia, or Public Assembly._--On a certain day,
the prosecuting magistrate, who had himself pronounced the preliminary
sentence against an accused person who had appealed to the people in
their public assembly, mounted the _rostra_, and called the people
together by the voice of a herald. He then made a proclamation that on
a certain day he would bring an accusation against a certain person upon
a given charge. At the same time, he called upon this person to come
forward and hear the charges against him. The defendant then presented
himself, listened to the accusation, and immediately furnished bond for
his appearance, or in default of bail, was thrown into prison. Upon the
day announced at the opening of the trial, the prosecuting magistrate
again mounted the _rostra_, and summoned the accused by a herald, if he
was at large, or had him brought forth if he was in prison. The
prosecutor then produced evidence, oral and documentary, against the
prisoner. The indictment had to be in writing, and was published on
three market days in the Forum. The prosecution came to an end on the
third day, and the accused then began his defense by mounting the
_rostra_ with his patron and presenting evidence in his own behalf. The
prosecutor then announced that on a certain day he would ask the people
to render judgment by their votes. In the early years of the republic,
the people voted by shouting their approval or disapproval of the
charges made; but later a tablet bearing one of the two letters V. (_uti
rogas_) or A. (_absolvo_) was used as a ballot.
The effect of popular jurisdiction in criminal processes at Rome was in
the nature of a two-edged sword that cut both ways. It was beneficial in
the limitations it imposed upon the conduct of single magistrates who
were too often capricious and despotic. But this benefit was purchased
at the price of a kind of popular despotism not less dangerous in its
way. It has always been characteristic of popular assemblies that their
decisions have been more the outcome of passion and prejudice than the
result of calm wisdom and absolute justice. The trouble at Rome was that
the people were both legislators and judges in their public assemblies;
and it nearly always happened that the lawmakers rose above and trampled
upon the very laws which they themselves had made. The natural offspring
of this state of things is either anarchy or despotism; and it was only
the marvelous vitality of the Roman Commonwealth that enabled it to
survive.
The reports of the great criminal trials before the _comitia_ reveal the
inherent weakness of a system of popular jurisdiction in criminal
matters. Personal and political considerations foreign to the merits of
the case were allowed to take the place of competent evidence; and
issues of right and expediency were too frequently mixed up. The
accused, at times, trusted not so much in the righteousness of his cause
as in the feelings of compassion and prejudice that moved the people as
popular judges. And to excite these feelings the most ludicrous and
undignified steps were sometimes taken. The defendant nearly always
appeared at the trial in mourning garb, frequently let his hair and
beard grow long, and often exhibited the scars and wounds received in
battle whilst fighting for his country. He sometimes offered prayers to
the immortal gods and wept bitterly; at other times he caused his
children and other relatives to appear at the trial, wailing, and
tearing their clothes. Not content with presenting all the pathetic
features of his own life, he left nothing undone to expose his opponents
to hatred and contempt. It thus happened that many of the great criminal
causes of Rome were mere farcical proceedings. A few instances may be
cited.
Horatius, though tried in the time of the third Roman king, was pardoned
by the people for the murder of his sister because of his heroic deed in
single combat with the three Curiatii, and because his father had lost
three children in the service of the state.
In the year 98, Manlius Aquillius, the pacificator of Sicily, was tried
for embezzlement. Marcus Antonius, his advocate, ended his argument for
the defense by tearing the tunic of Aquillius to show the breast of the
veteran warrior covered with scars. The people were moved to tears and
Aquillius was acquitted, although the evidence was very clear against
him.
In the trial of M. Manlius, 384 B.C., new tactics were employed. The
accused refused to appear in mourning. There was no weeping in his
behalf. On the other hand, Manlius relied upon his services to the state
for acquittal. He brought forward four hundred citizens who by his
generosity he had saved from bondage for debt; he exhibited the spoils
taken from thirty slain enemies, also military decorations received for
bravery in battle--among them two mural and eight civic crowns; he then
produced many citizens rescued by him from the hands of the enemy; he
then bared his breast and exhibited the scars received by him in war;
and, lastly, turning toward the Capitol, he implored Jupiter to protect
him, and to infuse, at this moment, into the Roman people, his judges,
the same spirit of courage and patriotism that had given him strength to
save the city of Rome and his whole country from the hands of the Gauls.
He begged the people to keep their eyes fixed on the Capitol while they
were pronouncing sentence against him to whom they owed life and
liberty. It is said that his prosecutors despaired of convicting him
amidst such surroundings, and adjourned the trial to another place,
where the Capitol could not be seen; and that thereupon the conviction
of Manlius was secured and his condemnation pronounced.
In the year 185 B.C., the tribune M. Nævius, at the instigation of Cato,
accused Scipio Africanus before the tribes of having been bribed to
secure a dishonorable peace. It was clearly evident that a charge of
this kind could not well be sustained by evidence; but it was believed
that a conviction could be secured by an appeal to the passion and
prejudice of the multitude. But this advantage operated as greatly in
favor of Scipio as it did in favor of his accusers. And he did not fail
to use the advantage to the fullest extent. In seeming imitation of M.
Manlius, two hundred years before, he appealed for acquittal to the
people on account of his public services. He refused to appear in
mourning, offered no evidence in his own behalf, nor did he exhibit the
usual humility of an accused Roman before his countrymen. With proud
disdain, he spurned the unworthy imputation of bribery, and pointed the
people to the magnificent achievements of his brilliant public career.
He reminded them that the day of the trial was itself the anniversary of
his victory over the greatest enemy that Rome ever had, at Zama. It was
degrading, he exclaimed, both to him and to the Roman nation, to bring
such a charge on this day against the man to whom it was due that the
Commonwealth of Rome still existed. He refused to lower himself, he
said, by listening to the insolent charges of a vulgar brawler who had
never done anything for the state. He declared that instead he would
repair at once to the temple of Jupiter and render thanks for his
victory over Hannibal to the protecting gods of his country. With these
words, he left the Forum and went to the Capitol and from there to his
house, accompanied by the great majority of the people, while the
accusing tribune and his official staff were left alone in the market
place.
The inevitable result of these cases of miscarriage of justice, in which
patriotic bravado and rhetorical claptrap took the place of legal rules,
was a desire and demand for the reform of criminal procedure. Besides,
it had ever been found troublesome and inconvenient to summon the whole
body of the Roman people to try ordinary offenses. It was only in cases
of great gravity that the ponderous machinery of the _comitia
centuriata_ could be set in motion. This difficulty was increased with
the growth of the republic, in which crimes also grew in number and
magnitude. The necessity for the reform of the criminal law resulted in
the institution of permanent tribunals (_quæstiones perpetuæ_). A series
of legal enactments accomplished this result. The earliest law that
created a permanent _quæstio_ was the _lex Calpurnia_ of 149 B.C. And it
was the proceedings in these courts, which we shall now describe, that
should have guided Pilate in the trial of Jesus.
_Mode of Trial in the Permanent Tribunals._--We shall attempt to trace
in the remaining pages of this chapter the successive steps in the trial
of criminal cases before the permanent tribunals at Rome.
_First Stage_ (_postulatio_).--A Roman criminal trial before a _quæstio
perpetua_ commenced with an application to the presiding magistrate, the
prætor or the _iudex quæstionis_, for permission to bring a criminal
charge against a certain person. The technical Latin expression for this
request to prosecute is _postulatio_. It should be here noted that
State's attorneys or public prosecutors, in a modern sense, were not
known to the Romans at this time. Private citizens took upon themselves
public prosecutions in behalf of the state. They were encouraged to do
this from motives of personal profit as well as patriotic interest in
the welfare of the community. As young men in modern times, just
admitted to the bar, often accept criminal cases by assignment from the
court in order to make a beginning in their professional careers, so
young Roman nobles in ancient times sought to make reputations for
themselves by accusing and prosecuting public delinquents. And not only
professional reputation, but financial compensation as well could be
gained in this way. The Roman laws of the time of Cicero provided that a
successful prosecutor should receive one-fourth part of the property
confiscated or the fine imposed. A Macedonian inscription offered a
reward of 200 denarii to the prosecutor who should bring to justice the
desecrators of a tomb.[19]
_Second Stage_ (_divinatio_).--It often happened that more than one
accuser desired to prosecute a single offense; but more than one
prosecutor was not permitted by Roman law unless there was more than one
crime charged. Then, in case of a concurrence of would-be accusers, a
preliminary trial was had to determine which one of these was best
fitted to bring the accusation. This initial hearing was known in Roman
law as the _divinatio_. It was indeed more than a mere hearing; it was a
regular trial in which the question of the fitness of the different
candidates for the position of _delator_ was argued before the president
and the jury. This jury was in many cases distinct from the one that
finally tried the case on the merits. The purpose of the whole
proceeding known as the _divinatio_ was to secure a prosecutor who was
at once both able and sincere; and both these qualities were generally
very strenuously urged by all those who desired to assume the rôle of
accuser. Indeed all personal qualifications involving the mental and
moral attributes of the would-be prosecutors were pointedly urged. At
the hearing, the different candidates frequently became animated and
even bitter opponents of each other. Crimination and recrimination then
followed as a natural consequence. An applicant might show that he was
thoroughly familiar with the affairs of a province, as a special fitness
in the prosecution of a public official for extortion in that province.
An opponent, on the other hand, might show that said applicant had been
associated with said official in the government of the province and had
been, and was now, on the friendliest terms with him. After the
meritorious qualifications of all the claimants had been presented, the
president and jury rendered their decision. The details of the evidence
affecting the merits of the charge were not considered at this
preliminary trial. Only such facts were considered as affected the
personal qualifications of the different candidates for the place of
accuser. When these qualifications were about equally balanced in point
of merit between two applicants, the abler speaker was generally chosen.
_Third Stage_ (_nominis delatio_).--It frequently happened that the
_postulatio_, the request to prosecute, was not followed by the
_divinatio_, the preliminary hearing on the merits of different
applicants, because there was only one would-be accuser; and his
qualifications were beyond dispute. In such a case, when a request to
bring a criminal charge against a certain person had been presented by a
citizen to the prætor, there followed, after a certain interval of time,
a private hearing before the president of the court for the purpose of
gaining fuller and more definite information concerning the charge. This
private proceeding was styled the _nominis_ or _criminis delatio_, and
took place before the president alone. Its main object was to secure a
specification of the personality of the accused as well as of the
charges brought against him. At this stage of the trial the presence of
the accused person was necessary, unless he was absent under valid
excuse. The _lex Memmia_, passed in the year 114 B.C., permitted a
delinquent to plead that he was absent from Rome on public business, as
an excuse for not appearing at the _nominis delatio_. In the year 58
B.C., the tribune L. Antistius impeached Julius Cæsar. But the
colleagues of Antistius excused Cæsar from personal attendance because
he was absent in the service of the state in Gaul. But, if the accused
appeared at the _nominis delatio_, the prosecutor interrogated him at
length concerning the facts of the crime. The purpose of this
interrogation (_interrogatio_) was to satisfy the president that there
was a prima facie case to carry before the regular tribunal in open
trial. The proceedings of the _nominis delatio_ were thus in the nature
of a modern Grand Jury investigation, instituted to determine if a
serious prosecution should be had.
_Fourth Stage_ (_inscriptio_).--If the interrogation convinced the
president that the prosecutor had a prima facie case to take before the
permanent tribunal, he framed a form of indictment called the
_inscriptio_. This indictment was signed by the chief prosecutor and
also by a number of witnesses against the accused called
_subscriptores_. The charge was now definitely fixed; and, from this
moment, it was the only offense that could be prosecuted at the trial.
The drawing up of this charge by the president was similar to the
framing of an indictment by a modern Grand Jury.
_Fifth Stage_ (_nominis receptio_).--After the indictment or inscription
had been framed, it was formally received by the president. This act
was styled the _nominis receptio_ and corresponds, in a general way,
with the presentment of an indictment by a modern Grand Jury. When the
_nominis receptio_ was complete, the case was said to be _in judicio_,
and the accused was said to be _in reatu_. The president then fixed a
day certain for the appearance of the accused and the beginning of the
trial. The time fixed was usually ten days from the _nominis receptio_.
However, a longer time was allowed if evidence had to be secured from
beyond the sea. Thirty days were allowed the accusers in the prosecution
of Scaurus. Cicero was given one hundred and ten days to secure evidence
against Verres; but he actually employed only sixty. The time granted
the prosecutor was also required by the law to be utilized by the
defendant in preparing his case.
The preliminary steps in the prosecution were now complete, and the
accused awaited the day of trial. In the meantime, he was allowed to go
at large, even when charged with a grave offense like murder.
Imprisonment to prevent escape had almost ceased at the time of which we
write. If the evidence against the accused was weak, it was felt that he
would certainly appear at the trial. If the evidence against him was
very strong, it was thought that he would seek to escape a sentence of
death in voluntary exile, a step which Romans always encouraged, as they
were averse, at all times, to putting a Roman citizen to death.
_Sixth Stage_ (_citatio_).--At the expiration of the time designated by
the president for the beginning of the trial, the proceedings before the
judges began. All the necessary parties, including the judges or jurors,
were summoned by a herald to appear. This procedure was termed the
_citatio_. Strange to say, if the accused failed to appear the case
could proceed without him. The reason for the requirement of his
presence at the _nominis delatio_, but not at the trial is not clear;
especially when viewed in the light of a modern trial in which the
defendant must be present at every important step in the proceedings.
Under Roman procedure, the presence of the defendant was not necessary,
whether he was in voluntary exile, or was obstinately absent. In 52
B.C., Milo was condemned in his absence; and we read in Plutarch that
the assassins of Cæsar were tried in their absence, 43 B.C.
Excusable absence necessitated an adjournment of the case. The chief
grounds for an adjournment were: (1) Absence from the city in the public
service; (2) that the accused was compelled to appear in another court
on the same day; (3) illness.
The absence of the accused did not prevent the prosecution of the case,
but the nonappearance of the prosecutor on the day fixed for the
beginning of the trial usually terminated the proceedings at once. The
fact that the case had to be dismissed if the accuser failed to appear
only serves to illustrate how dependent the state was on the sincerity
of the citizen who undertook the prosecution. The obligations of the
prosecutor honestly and vigorously to follow up a suit which he had set
in motion were felt to be so serious a matter by the Romans that
special laws were passed to hold him in the line of duty. The _lex
Remmia_ provided that if any citizen knowingly accused another citizen
falsely of a crime, the accuser should be prosecuted for calumny
(_calumnia_). It further provided that, in case of conviction, the
letter K should be branded on the forehead of the condemned. Such laws
were found necessary to protect the good name of Roman citizens against
bad men who desired to use the legal machinery of the state to gratify
private malevolence against their enemies. It may thus be seen that the
system which permitted public prosecutions on the motion of private
citizens was attended by both good and bad results. Cicero regarded such
a system as a positive benefit to the state.[20] Its undoubted effect
was to place a check upon corruption in public office by subjecting the
acts of public officials to the scrutiny and, if need be, to the censure
of every man in the nation. On the other hand, accusers in public
prosecutions came finally to be identified, in the public mind, with
coarse and vulgar informers whose only motive in making public
accusations was to create private gain. So thoroughly were they despised
that one of the parasites of Plautus scornfully exclaims that he would
not exchange his vocation, though low and groveling, with that of the
man who makes a legal proceeding "his net wherein to catch another man's
goods."[21]
_Seventh Stage_ (_impaneling the judges_).--But if the prosecutor
appeared in due time, the trial formally began by the impaneling of the
judges. This was usually done by the prætor or _iudex quæstionis_ who,
at the beginning of the trial, placed the names of the complete panel of
jurors, inscribed on white tablets, into an urn, and then drew out a
certain number. Both prosecutor and accused had the right to challenge a
limited number, as the names were being drawn. The number of challenges
allowed varied from time to time.
_Eighth Stage_ (_beginning of the trial_).--When the judges had been
impaneled, the regular proceedings began. The place of trial was the
Forum. The curule chair of the prætor and the benches of the judges,
constituting the tribunal, were here placed. On the ground in front of
the raised platform upon which the prætor and judges sat, were arranged
the benches of the parties, their advocates and witnesses. Like the
ancient Hebrew law, Roman law required that criminal cases should be
tried only by daylight, that is, between daybreak and one hour before
sunset. At the opening of the trial, the prosecutor, backed by the
_subscriptores_, and the accused, supported by his patrons and
advocates, appeared before the tribunal.
In a modern criminal trial the case is opened by the introduction of
testimony which is followed by regular speeches of counsel for the
people and the defendant. In those jurisdictions where opening addresses
are required before the examination of the witnesses, the purpose is to
inform the jury of the facts which it is proposed to prove. Argument and
characterization are not permitted in these opening speeches. The real
speeches in which argument and illustration are permitted come after the
evidence has been introduced. The purpose of these closing speeches is
to assist the jury in determining matters of fact from conflicting
testimony.
Under the Roman system of trial in criminal cases, the order was
reversed. The regular speeches containing argument, characterization,
and illustration, as well as a statement of the facts proposed to be
proved, were made in the very beginning. Evidence was then introduced to
show that the orators had told the truth in their speeches.
It is not practicable in this place to discuss the kinds and relevancy
of evidence under Roman criminal procedure. Suffice it to say that
slaves were always examined under torture.
The close of the evidence was followed by the judgment of the tribunal.
_Ninth Stage_ (_voting of the judges_).--The judges voted by ballot, and
a majority of votes decided the verdict. The balloting was done with
tablets containing the letters A. (_absolvo_), C. (_condemno_) and N. L.
(_non liquet_). When the votes had been cast, the tablets were then
counted by the president of the tribunal. If the result indicated a
condemnation, he pronounced the word _fecisse_; if an acquittal, the
phrase, _non fecisse videtur_; if a doubtful verdict (_non liquet_), the
words _amplius esse cognoscendum_. The result of a doubtful (_non
liquet_) verdict was a retrial of the case at some future time.
Such were the main features of the trial of a capital case at Rome at
the date of the crucifixion. Such was the model which, according to the
best authorities, Pilate was bound to follow in the trial of Jesus. Did
he imitate this model? Did he observe these rules and regulations? We
shall see.
CHAPTER V
ROMAN FORMS OF PUNISHMENT
According to Gibbon, the laws of the Twelve Tables, like the statutes of
Draco, were written in blood. These famous decrees sanctioned the
frightful principle of the _lex talionis_; and prescribed for numerous
crimes many horrible forms of punishment. The hurling from the Tarpeian
Rock was mild in comparison with other modes of execution. The traitor
to his country had his hands tied behind his back, his head shrouded in
a veil, was then scourged by a lictor, and was afterwards crucified, in
the midst of the Forum by being nailed to the _arbor infelix_. A
malicious incendiary, on a principle of retaliation, was delivered to
the flames. He was burned to death by being wrapped in a garment covered
with pitch which was then set on fire.[22] A parricide was cast into the
Tiber or the sea, inclosed in a sack, to which a cock, a viper, a dog,
and a monkey had been successively added as fit companions in death.[23]
But the development of Roman jurisprudence and the growth of Roman
civilization witnessed a gradual diminution in the severity of penal
sanctions, in the case of free citizens, until voluntary exile was the
worst punishment to which a wearer of the toga was compelled to submit.
The Porcian and Valerian laws prohibited the magistrates from putting
any Roman citizen to death. The principle underlying these laws was the
offspring of a proud and patriotic sentiment which exempted the masters
of the world from the extreme penalties reserved for barbarians and
slaves. Greenidge, interpreting Cicero, very elegantly expresses this
sentiment: "It is a _facinus_ to put a Roman citizen in bonds, a
_scelus_ to scourge him, _prope parricidium_ to put him to death."
The subject of this volume limits the discussion in this chapter to a
single Roman punishment: Crucifixion. Around this word gather the most
frightful memories and, at the same time, the sweetest and sublimest
hopes of the human race. A thorough appreciation of the trial of Jesus,
it is felt, renders necessary a comparatively exhaustive treatment of
the punishment in which all the horrors and illegalities of the
proceedings against Him culminated.
_History._--Tradition attributes the origin of crucifixion, the most
frightful and inhuman form of punishment ever known, to a woman,
Semiramis, Queen of Assyria. We are reminded by this that quartering,
drawing at a horse's tail, breaking on the wheel, burning and torture
with pincers, were provisions in a codex bearing the name of a woman:
Maria Theresa.[24]
Crucifixion was practiced by the ancient Egyptians, Carthaginians,
Persians, Germans, Assyrians, Greeks, and Romans. The Romans employed
this form of punishment on a colossal scale. The Roman general Varus
crucified 2,000 Jews in one day at the gates of Jerusalem. The close of
the war with Spartacus, the gladiator, witnessed the crucifixion of
10,000 slaves between Capua and Rome.
Crucifixion, as a form of punishment, was unknown to the ancient
Hebrews. The penalty of death was enforced among them by burning,
strangling, decapitation, and stoning. The "hanging" of criminals "on a
tree," mentioned in Deut. xxi. 22, was a posthumous indignity offered
the body of the criminal after death by stoning, and struck horror to
the soul of every pious Israelite who beheld it. Among the Romans also
degradation was a part of the infliction, since crucifixion was
peculiarly a _supplicium servile_. Only the vilest criminals, among free
men, such as were guilty of robbery, piracy, assassination, perjury,
sedition, treason, and desertion from the army, met death in this way.
The _jus civitatis_ protected Roman citizens against this punishment.
_Mode of Crucifixion._--A sentence of death having been pronounced by a
Roman magistrate or tribunal, scourging became a preliminary to
execution. This was done with the terrible _flagellum_ into which the
soldiers frequently stuck nails, pieces of bone, and other hard
substances to heighten the pain which was often so intense as to produce
death. The victim was generally bound to a column to be scourged. It was
claimed by Jerome, Prudentius, Gregory of Tours, and others that they
had seen the one to which Jesus was bound before His scourging began.
After the flagellation, the prisoner was conducted to the place of
execution. This was outside the city, often in some public road, or
other conspicuous place like the Campus Martius at Rome. The criminal
was compelled to carry his own cross; and when he had arrived at the
place of crucifixion, he was compelled to watch the preparations for his
torture. Before his eyes and in his presence, the cross was driven into
the ground; and, after having been stripped naked, he was lifted upon
and nailed to it. It sometimes happened that he was stretched upon it
first and then lifted with it from the ground. The former method was the
more common, however, as it was desired to strike terror into the victim
by the sight of the erection of the cross. The body was fastened to the
cross by nails driven into the hands and sometimes into the feet; more
frequently, however, the feet were merely bound by cords.
The pictures of crosses in works of art are misrepresentations, in that
they are too large and too high. The real cross of antiquity was very
little longer than the victim, whose head was near the top, and whose
feet often hung only twelve or fifteen inches from the ground. Pictorial
art is also false because it fails to show the projecting beam from near
the center of the cross upon which the criminal sat. That there was such
a beam is attested by the almost unanimous voice of antiquity.
Crucifixion was conducted, under Roman auspices, by a _carnifex_, or
hangman, assisted by a band of soldiers. At Rome, execution was done
under the supervision of the _Triumviri Capitales_. The duty of the
soldiers was not only to erect the cross and nail the victim to it, but
also to watch him until he was dead. This was a necessary precaution to
prevent friends and relatives from taking the criminal down and from
carrying him away, since he sometimes continued to live upon the cross
during several days. If taken down in time, the suffering man might
easily be resuscitated and restored to health. Josephus tells us that
three victims were ordered to be taken down by Titus at his request, and
that one of them recovered. "In the later persecutions of the
Christians, the guards remained four or six days by the dead, in order
to secure them to the wild beasts and to cut off all possibility of
burial and resurrection; and in Lyons the Christians were not once able
by offers of much gold to obtain the privilege of showing compassion
upon the victims of the pagan popular fury. Sometimes, however,
particularly on festival days, e.g., the birthdays of the emperors, the
corpse was given up to the friends of the deceased, either for money or
without money, although even Augustus could be cruel enough to turn a
deaf ear to the entreaties of the condemned for sepulture."[25]
Roman records tell us that the soldiers frequently hastened death by
breaking the legs of the criminal; at other times, fires were built
about the cross beneath him; and, again, wild beasts were turned loose
upon him.
It was the general custom to allow the body to remain and rot upon the
cross, or to be devoured by wild beasts and birds of prey. "Distracted
relatives and friends saw the birds of prey attack the very faces of
those whom they loved; and piety often took pains to scare away the
birds by day and the beasts by night, or to outwit the guards that
watched the dead."[26]
Sepulture was generally forbidden by law, though there were exceptions
to the rule. At the request of Joseph of Arimathea, Pilate consented
that Jesus should be taken down and buried.[27] A national exception
seems also to have been made in the case of the Jews on account of the
requirements of Deut. xxi. 22, 23.
_Pathology._--The following pathological phases of death by crucifixion
are from a treatise by the celebrated physician, Richter (in John's
"Bibl. Arch."), which have been reproduced in Strong and McClintock's
"Cyclopedia":
"(1) The unnatural position and violent tension of the body, which cause
a painful sensation from the least motion.
"(2) The nails, being driven through parts of the hands and feet which
are full of nerves and tendons (and yet at a distance from the heart)
create the most exquisite anguish.
"(3) The exposure of so many wounds and lacerations brings on
inflammation, which tends to become gangrene, and every movement
increases the poignancy of suffering.
"(4) In the distended parts of the body, more blood flows through the
arteries than can be carried back into the veins: hence too much blood
finds its way from the aorta into the head and stomach, and the blood
vessels of the head become pressed and swollen. The general obstruction
of circulation which ensues causes an intense excitement, exertion, and
anxiety more intolerable than death itself.
"(5) The inexpressible misery of _gradually increasing_ and lingering
anguish.
"(6) Burning and raging thirst.
"Death by crucifixion (physically considered) is, therefore, to be
attributed to the sympathetic fever which is excited by the wounds, and
aggravated by exposure to the weather, privation of water, and the
painfully constrained position of the body. Traumatic fever corresponds,
in intensity and in character, to the local inflammation of the wound,
is characterized by heat, swelling, and great pain, the fever is highly
inflammatory, and the sufferer complains of heat, throbbing headache,
intense thirst, restlessness, and anxiety. As soon as suppuration sets
in, the fever somewhat abates, and partially ceases as suppuration
diminishes and the stage of cicatrization approaches. But if the wound
be prevented from healing and suppuration continues, the fever assumes a
hectic character, and will sooner or later exhaust the powers of life.
When, however, the inflammation of the wound is so intense as to produce
mortification, nervous depression is the immediate consequence; and, if
the cause of this excessive inflammation of the wound still continues,
as is the case in crucifixion, the sufferer rapidly sinks. He is no
longer sensible of pain, but his anxiety and sense of prostration are
excessive; hiccough supervenes, his skin is moistened with a cold clammy
sweat, and death ensues. It is in this manner that death on the cross
must have taken place in an ordinarily healthy constitution."
The intense sufferings and prolonged agony of crucifixion can be best
illustrated by an account of several cases of this form of punishment
taken from history.
From the "Chrestomathia Arabica" of Kosegarten, published in 1828, is
taken the following story of the execution of a Mameluke. The author of
this work gleaned the story from an Arabic manuscript entitled "The
Meadow of Flowers and the Fragrant Odour":
"It is said that he had killed his master for some cause or other, and
he was crucified on the banks of the river Barada under the castle of
Damascus, with his face turned toward the East. His hands, arms, and
feet were nailed, and he remained so from midday on Friday to the same
hour on Sunday, when he died. He was remarkable for his strength and
prowess; he had been engaged with his master in sacred war at Askelon,
where he slew great numbers of the Franks; and when very young he had
killed a lion. Several extraordinary things occurred at his being
nailed, as that he gave himself up without resistance to the cross, and
without complaint stretched out his hands, which were nailed and after
them his feet: he in the meantime looked on, and did not utter a groan,
or change his countenance or move his limbs. I have heard this from one
who witnessed it, and he thus remained till he died, patient and silent,
without wailing, but looking around him to the right and the left upon
the people. But he begged for water, and none was given him, and he
gazed upon it and longed for one drop of it, and he complained of thirst
all the first day, after which he was silent, for God gave him
strength."
Describing the punishments used in Madagascar, Rev. Mr. Ellis says: "In
a few cases of great enormity, a sort of crucifixion has been resorted
to; and, in addition to this, burning or roasting at a slow fire, kept
at some distance from the sufferer, has completed the horrors of this
miserable death.... In the year 1825, a man was condemned to
crucifixion, who had murdered a female for the sake of stealing her
child. He carried the child for sale to the public market, where the
infant was recognized, and the murderer detected. He bore his punishment
in the most hardened manner, avenging himself by all the violence he was
capable of exercising upon those who dragged him to the place of
execution. Not a single groan escaped him during the period he was
nailed to the wood, nor while the cross was fixed upright in the
earth."[28]
More horrible still than punishment by crucifixion was that of
impalement and suspension on a hook. The following description of the
execution, in 1830, at Salonica, of Chaban, a captain of banditti, is
given by Slade: "He was described by those who saw him as a very
fine-looking man, about thirty-five. As a preparatory exercise, he was
suspended by his arms for twelve hours. The following day a hook was
thrust into his side, by which he was suspended to a tree, and there
hung enduring the agony of thirst till the third evening, when death
closed the scene; but before that about an hour the birds, already
considering him their own, had alighted upon his brow to pick his eyes.
During this frightful period he uttered no unmanly complaints, only
repeated several times, 'Had I known that I was to suffer this infernal
death, I would never have done what I have. From the moment I led the
klephte's life I had death before my eyes, and was prepared to meet it,
but I expected to die as my predecessors, by decapitation.'"[29]
_The Cross._--The instrument of crucifixion, called the Cross, was
variously formed. Lipsius and Gretser have employed a twofold
classification: the _crux simplex_, and the _crux composita_ or
_compacta_. A single upright stake was distinguished as a _crux
simplex_. The _crux composita_, the compound or actual cross, was
subject to the following modifications of form: _Crux immissa_, formed
as in the Figure [symbol: Cross]; _crux commissa_ thus formed [symbol:
T-cross]; and the _crux decussata_, the cruciform figure, set diagonally
after the manner of the Roman letter X. It is generally thought that
Jesus was crucified upon the _crux immissa_, the "Latin cross."
According to the well-known legend of the "Invention of the Cross," the
actual cross on which Jesus was crucified was discovered in the year 326
A.D. by the Empress Helena, the mother of Constantine the Great. As the
story goes, while visiting Jerusalem and the scenes of the passion, she
was guided to the summit of Calvary by an aged Jew. Here an excavation
was made, and, at a considerable depth, three crosses were found; and,
with them, but lying aside by itself, was the inscription, in Hebrew,
Latin, and Greek, placed above the head of Christ at the time of the
crucifixion. To determine which of the three crosses was the one upon
which Jesus suffered, it was decided, at the suggestion of Macarius,
bishop of Jerusalem, to employ a miracle. The sick were brought and
required to touch the three. According to the legend, the one upon which
the Savior died immediately imparted miraculous healing. A church was at
once built above the excavation and in it was deposited the greater part
of the supposed real cross, and the remainder was sent to Byzantium, and
from there to Rome, where it was placed in the church of Santa Croce in
Gerusalemme, built especially to receive the precious relic. The
genuineness of this relic was afterwards attested by a Bull of Pope
Alexander III.
In connection with the legend of the discovery of the actual cross upon
which Christ was crucified, goes a secondary story that the nails used
at the crucifixion were also found at the same time and place. Later
tradition declared that one of these was thrown by Helena into the
Adriatic when swept by a terrific storm, and that this was followed by
an instantaneous calm.
The popular impression among Christians that the cross is exclusively a
Christian religious symbol, seems to be without historical foundation.
It is quite certain, indeed, that it was a religious emblem among
several ancient races before the beginning of the Christian era.
The ancient Egyptians adored the cross with the most holy veneration;
and this sacred emblem was carved upon many of their monuments. Several
of these monuments may be seen to-day in the British Museum.[30] A cross
upon a Calvary may also be seen upon the breast of one of the Egyptian
mummies in the Museum of the London University.[31] The ancient
Egyptians were accustomed to putting a cross on their sacred cakes, just
as the Christians of to-day do, on Good Friday.[32]
The cross was also adored by the ancient Greeks and Romans, long before
the crucifixion of Christ. Greek crosses of equal arms adorn the tomb of
Midas, the ancient Phrygian king.[33] One of the early Christian
Fathers, Minucius Felix, in a heated controversy with the pagan Romans,
charged them with adoration of the cross. "As for adoration of the
cross," said he to the Romans, "which you object against us, I must tell
you that we neither adore crosses nor desire them. You it is, ye Pagans,
who worship wooden gods, who are the most likely people to adore wooden
crosses, as being part of the same substance with your deities. For what
else are your ensigns, flags, and standards, but crosses, gilt and
beautiful? Your victorious trophies _not only represent a cross, but a
cross with a man upon it_."[34]
It also seems that, at a time antedating the early Romans, Etruscans and
Sabines, a primitive race inhabited the plains of Northern Italy, "to
whom the cross was a religious symbol, the sign beneath which they laid
their dead to rest; a people of whom history tells nothing, knowing not
their name; but of whom antiquarian research has learned this, that they
lived in ignorance of the arts of civilization, that they dwelt in
villages built on platforms over lakes, and that they trusted to the
cross to guard, and maybe to revive, their loved ones whom they
committed to the dust."
The cross was also a sacred symbol among the ancient Scandinavians. "It
occurs," says Mr. R. P. Knight, "on many Runic monuments found in Sweden
and Denmark, which are of an age long anterior to the approach of
Christianity to those countries, and, probably, to its appearance in the
world."[35]
When the Spanish missionaries first set foot on the soil of Mexico, they
were amazed to find that the Aztecs worshiped the cross as an object of
supreme veneration. They found it suspended as a sacred symbol and an
august emblem from the walls of all the Aztec temples.[36] When they
penetrated farther south and entered Peru, they found that the Incas
adored a cross made out of a single piece of jasper.[37] "It appears,"
says "Chambers's Encyclopedia," "that the sign of the cross was in use
as an emblem having certain religious and mystic meanings attached to
it, long before the Christian era; and the Spanish conquerors were
astonished to find it an object of religious veneration among the
nations of Central and South America."[38]
That the ancient Mexicans should have worshiped the cross and also a
crucified Savior, called Quetzalcoatle,[39] is one of the strangest
phenomena of sacred history. It is a puzzle which the most eminent
theologians have found it impossible to solve. They have generally
contented themselves with declaring the whole thing a myth built upon
primitive superstition and ignorance. This worship of the cross and
Quetzalcoatle was going on before Columbus discovered America, and it
seems impossible to establish any historical or geographical connection
between it and the Christian worship of the cross and the crucified
Jesus.
Several writers of eminence have contended that the widespread adoration
of the cross, as a sacred symbol, among so many races of mankind,
ancient and modern, proves a universal spiritual impulse, culminating in
the crucifixion of Jesus as the common Savior of the world. "It is more
than a coincidence," says the Rev. S. Baring-Gould, "that Osiris by the
cross should give life eternal to the spirits of the just; that with the
cross Thor should smite the head of the great Serpent, and bring to life
those who were slain; that beneath the cross the Muysca mothers should
lay their babes, trusting to that sign to secure them from the power of
evil spirits; that with that symbol to protect them, the ancient people
of Northern Italy should lay them down in the dust."[40]
But it is not with the mythical crucifixions of mythical gods that we
have to deal. The real, historical death of Jesus upon the cross with
its accompanying incidents of outrageous illegality is the purpose of
this treatise; and to the accomplishment of that design we now return.
CHAPTER VI
ROMAN LAW APPLICABLE TO THE TRIAL OF JESUS
_What was the law of Rome in relation to the trial of Jesus?_ The answer
to this question is referable to the main charge brought against the
Master before Pilate. A single verse in St. Luke contains the
indictment: "And they began to accuse him, saying, We found this fellow
perverting the nation, and forbidding to give tribute to Cæsar, saying
that he himself is Christ a King." Three distinct elements are wrapped
up in this general accusation; but they are all interwoven with and
culminate in the great charge that Jesus claimed to be "Christ a King."
Of this accusation alone, Pilate took cognizance. And there is no
mistake as to its nature and meaning. It was High Treason against
Cæsar--the most awful crime known to Roman law. This was the charge
brought by the priests of the Sanhedrin against the Nazarene. What then
was the law of Rome in relation to the crime of high treason? The older
Roman law, _crimen perduellionis_, applied chiefly to offenses committed
in the military service. Deserters from the army were regarded as
traitors and punished as public enemies either by death or
interdiction of fire and water. Later Roman law broadened the definition
of treason until it comprehended any offense against the Roman
Commonwealth that affected the dignity and security of the Roman people.
Ulpian, defining treason, says: "_Majestatis crimen illud est quod
adversus populum Romanum vel adversus securitatem ejus committitur._"[41]
Cicero very admirably describes the same crime as: "_Majestatem minuere
est de dignitate aut amplitudine aut potestate populi aut eorum quibus
populus potestatem dedit aliquid derogare._"[42] The substance of both
these definitions is this: Treason is an insult to the dignity or an
attack upon the sovereignty and security of the Roman State. From time
to time, various laws were passed to define this crime and to provide
penalties for its commission. Chief among these were the _lex Julia
Majestatis_, 48 B.C. Other laws of an earlier date were the _lex
Cornelia_, 81 B.C.; _lex Varia_, 92 B.C.; and the _lex Appuleia_, 100
B.C. The _lex Julia_ was in existence at the time of Christ, and was the
basis of the Roman law of treason until the closing years of the empire.
One of its provisions was that every accusation of treason against a
Roman citizen should be made by a written libel. But it is not probable
that provincials were entitled to the benefit of this provision; and it
was not therefore an infraction of the law that the priests and Pilate
failed to present a written charge against Jesus.
[Illustration: TIBERIUS CÆSAR (ANTIQUE SCULPTURE)]
In studying the trial of Jesus and the charge brought against Him, the
reader should constantly remind himself that the crucifixion took place
during the reign of Tiberius Cæsar, a morbid and capricious tyrant,
whose fretful and suspicious temper would kindle into fire at the
slightest suggestion of treason in any quarter. Tacitus records
fifty-two cases of prosecution for treason during his reign. The
enormous development of the law of _majestas_ at this time gave rise to
a class of professional informers, _delatores_, whose infamous activity
against private citizens helped to blacken the name of Tiberius. The
most harmless acts were at times construed into an affront to the
majesty or into an assault upon the safety of this miserable despot.
Cotta Messalinus was prosecuted for treason because it was alleged "that
he had given Caligula the nickname of Caia, as contaminated by incest";
and again on another charge that he had styled a banquet among the
priests on the birthday of Augusta, a "funeral supper"; and again on
another charge that, while complaining of the influence of Manius
Lepidus and Lucius Arruntius, with whom he had had trouble in court, he
had said that "they indeed will be supported by the senate, but I by my
little Tiberius."[43]
Manercus Scaurus was prosecuted for treason because he wrote a tragedy
in which were certain lines that might be made to apply in an
uncomplimentary manner to Tiberius. We are told by Dio that this tragedy
was founded on the story of Atreus; and that Tiberius, believing himself
referred to, said, "Since he makes me another Atreus, I will make him an
Ajax," meaning that he would compel him to destroy himself.[44]
"Nor," says Tacitus, "were even women exempt from danger. With designs
to usurp the government they could not be charged; their tears are
therefore made treason; and Vitia, mother to Fusius Geminus, once
consul, was executed in her old age for bewailing the death of her
son."[45]
An anecdote taken from Seneca but related in Tacitus, illustrates the
pernicious activity of the political informers of this age. At a banquet
in Rome, one of the guests wore the image of Tiberius on his ring. His
slave, seeing his master intoxicated, took the ring off his finger. An
informer noticed the act, and, later in the evening, insisted that the
owner, to show his contempt of Tiberius, was sitting upon the figure of
the emperor. Whereupon he began to draw up an accusation for high
treason and was getting ready to have it attested by subscribing
witnesses, when the slave took the ring from his own pocket, and thus
demonstrated to the whole company that he had had it in his possession
all the time. These instances fully serve to illustrate the political
tone and temper of the age that witnessed the trial and crucifixion of
Jesus. They also suggest the exceedingly delicate and painful position
of Pilate when sitting in judgment upon the life of a subject of
Tiberius who claimed to be a king.
It is deemed entirely appropriate, in this place, to discuss a peculiar
phase of the law of treason in its relationship to the trial of Jesus.
It is easily demonstrable that the teachings of Christ were treasonable
under Roman public law. An essential and dominating principle of that
law was that the imperial State had the right to regulate and control
the private consciences of men in religious matters. It was held to be
an attribute of the sovereignty of Rome that she had the right to create
or destroy religions. And the theory of the Roman constitution was that
the exercise of this right was not a religious but a governmental
function. The modern doctrine of the separation of Church and State had
no place in Roman politics at the time of Christ. Tiberius Cæsar, at the
beginning of his reign, definitely adopted the principle of a state
religion, and as Pontifex Maximus, was bound to protect the ancient
Roman worship as a matter of official duty.
Roman treatment of foreign religions, from first to last, is a most
interesting and fascinating study. Polytheistic above all other nations,
the general policy of the Roman empire was one of toleration. Indeed she
not only tolerated but adopted and absorbed foreign worships into her
own. The Roman religion was a composite of nearly all the religions of
the earth. It was thus natural that the imperial State should be
indulgent in religious matters, since warfare upon foreign faiths would
have been an assault upon integral parts of her own sacred system. It is
historically true that attempts were made from time to time by patriotic
Romans to preserve the old Latin faith in its original purity from
foreign invasion. The introduction of Greek gods was at first vigorously
opposed, but the exquisite beauty of Greek sculpture, the irresistible
influence of Greek literature, and the overwhelming fascination of Greek
myths, finally destroyed this opposition, and placed Apollo and
Æsculapius in the Roman pantheon beside Jupiter and Minerva.
At another time the senate declared war on the Egyptian worship which
was gradually making its way into Rome. It had the images of Isis and
Serapis thrown down; but the people set them up again. It decreed that
the temples to these deities should be destroyed, but not a single
workman would lay hands upon them. Æmilius Paulus, the consul, was
himself forced to seize an ax and break in the doors of the temple. In
spite of this, the worship of Isis and Serapis was soon again practiced
unrestrained at Rome.[46]
It is further true that Rome showed not only intolerance but mortal
antagonism to Druidism, which was completely annihilated during the
reign of the Emperor Claudius.
A decree of the Roman senate, during the reign of Tiberius, ordered four
thousand freemen charged with Egyptian and Jewish superstitions out to
Sardinia to fight against and be destroyed by the banditti there, unless
they saw fit to renounce these superstitions within a given time.[47]
But it must be remembered that these are exceptional cases of
intolerance revealed by Roman history. The general policy of the empire,
on the other hand, was of extreme tolerance and liberality. The keynote
of this policy was that all religions would be tolerated that consented
to live side by side and in peace with all other religions. There was
but one restriction upon and limitation of this principle, that foreign
religions would be tolerated only in their local seats, or, at most,
among the races in which such religions were native. The fact that the
worship of Serapis was left undisturbed on the banks of the Nile, did
not mean that the same worship would be tolerated on the banks of the
Tiber. An express authorization by Rome was necessary for this purpose.
Said authorization made said worship a _religio licita_. And the
peregrini, or foreigners in Rome, were thus permitted to erect their own
altars, and to assemble for the purpose of worshiping their own gods
which they had brought with them. The reverse side of this general
principle of religious tolerance shows that Roman citizens were not only
permitted but required to carry the Roman faith with them throughout the
world. Upon them, the Roman state religion was absolutely binding; and
for all the balance of the world it was the dominant cult. "The
provinces," says Renan, "were entirely free to adhere to their own
rights, on the sole condition of not interfering with those of others."
"Such toleration or indifference, however," says Döllinger, "found its
own limits at once whenever the doctrine taught had a practical bearing
on society, interfered with the worship of the state gods, or confronted
their worship with one of its own; as well as when a strange god and
_cultus_ assumed a hostile attitude toward Roman gods, could be brought
into no affinity or corporate relation with them, and would not bend to
the supremacy of Jupiter Capitolinus."
Now, the principles declared by Renan and Döllinger are fundamental and
pointed in the matter of the relationship between the teachings of Jesus
and the theory of treason under Roman law. These principles were
essential elements of Roman public law, and an attempt to destroy them
was an act of treason under the definitions of both Ulpian and Cicero.
The Roman constitution required that a foreign religion, as a condition
of its very existence, should live in peace with its neighbors; that it
should not make war upon or seek to destroy other religions; and that it
should acknowledge the dominance and superior character of the imperial
religion. All these things Jesus refused to do, as did his followers
after Him. The Jews, it is true, had done the same thing, but their
nationality and lack of aggressiveness saved them until the destruction
of Jerusalem. But Christianity was essentially aggressive and
proselytizing. It sought to supplant and destroy all other religions. No
compromises were proposed, no treaties concluded. The followers of the
Nazarene raised a black flag against paganism and every heathen god.
Their strange faith not only defied all other religions, but mocked all
earthly government not built upon it. Their propaganda was nothing less
than a challenge to the Roman empire in the affairs of both law and
religion. Here was a faith which claimed to be the only true religion;
that proclaimed a monotheistic message which was death to polytheism;
and that refused to be confined within local limits. Here was a
religion that scorned an authorization from Rome to worship its god and
prophet; a religion that demanded acceptance and obedience from all the
world--from Roman and Greek, as well as Jew and Egyptian. This scorn and
this demand were an affront to the dignity and a challenge to the laws
of the Roman Commonwealth. Such conduct was treason against the
constitution of the empire.
"The substance of what the Romans did," says Sir James Fitz-James
Stephen, "was to treat Christianity by fits and starts as a crime."[48]
But why a crime? Because the Roman religion, built upon polytheism, was
an integral and inseparable part of the Roman State, and whatever
menaced the life of the one, threatened the existence of the other. The
Romans regarded their religion as "an engine of state which could not be
shaken without the utmost danger to their civil government." Cicero
further says: "The institutions of the fathers must be defended; it is
the part of wisdom to hold fast the sacred rites and ceremonies."[49]
Roman statesmen were fully aware of the truthfulness of the statement of
a modern writer that, "wherever the religion of any state falls into
disregard and contempt it is impossible for that state to subsist long."
Now, Christianity was monotheistic, and threatened destruction to
polytheism everywhere. And the Romans treated it as a crime because it
was regarded as a form of seditious atheism whose teachings and
principles were destructive of the established order of things. The
Roman conception of the nature of the crime committed by an attack upon
the national religion is well illustrated by the following sentence from
Döllinger: "If an opinion unfavorable to the apotheosis of any member of
the imperial dynasty happened to be dropped, it was dangerous in itself
as falling within the purview of the law of high treason; and so it fell
out in the case of Thrasea Pætus, who refused to believe in the
deification of Poppæa." If it was high treason to refuse to believe in
the deification of an emperor or an empress, what other crime could be
imputed to him whose design was to destroy an entire religious system,
and to pile all the gods and goddesses--Juno and Poppæa, Jupiter and
Augustus--in common ruin?
From the foregoing, it may be readily seen that it is impossible to
appreciate the legal aspects of the trial of Jesus before Pilate, unless
it is constantly kept in mind that the Roman constitution, which was
binding upon the whole empire, reserved to the state the right to permit
or forbid the existence of new religious faiths and the exercise of
rights of conscience in religious matters. Rome was perfectly willing to
tolerate all religions as long as they were peaceful and passive in
their relations with other religions. But when a new and aggressive
faith appeared upon the scene, proclaiming the strange dogma that there
was but one name under heaven whereby men might be saved, and demanding
that every knee bow at the mention of that name, and threatening
damnation upon all who refused, the majesty of Roman law felt itself
insulted and outraged; and persecution, torture, and death were the
inevitable result. The best and wisest of the Roman emperors, Trajan
and the Antonines, devoted to the ax or condemned to crucifixion the
early Christians, not because Christianity was spiritually false, but
because it was aggressive and intolerant, and they believed its
destruction necessary to the maintenance of the supremacy and
sovereignty of the Roman State.
An interesting correspondence between Pliny and Trajan, while the former
was governor of Bithynia, reveals the Roman conception of and attitude
toward Christianity. Pliny wrote to Trajan: "In the meanwhile, the
method I have observed toward those who have been brought before me as
Christians is this: I asked them whether they were Christians; if they
admitted it, I repeated the question twice, and threatened them with
punishment; if they persisted, I ordered them to be at once punished,
for I was persuaded, whatever the nature of their opinions might be, a
contumacious and inflexible obstinacy certainly deserved correction.
There were others also brought before me possessed with the same
infatuation, but being Roman citizens, I directed them to be sent to
Rome."
To this, Trajan replied: "You have adopted the right course, my dearest
Secundus, in investigating the charges against the Christians who were
brought before you. It is not possible to lay down any general rule for
all such cases. Do not go out of your way to look for them. If, indeed,
they should be brought before you, and the crime is proved, they must be
punished; with the restriction, however, that where the party denies he
is a Christian, and shall make it evident he is not, by invoking our
gods, let him (notwithstanding any former suspicion) be pardoned upon
his repentance."[50] Here the magnanimous Trajan called Christianity a
crime, and this was the popular Roman conception of it during the first
two centuries of its existence.
Now, it is true that Christianity was not on trial before Pilate; but
the Author of Christianity was. And the same legal principles were
extant and applicable that afterwards brought the Roman State and the
followers of the Nazarene into mortal conflict. For the prisoner who now
stood before the procurator to answer the charge of high treason
asserted substantially the same claims and proclaimed the same doctrines
that afterwards caused Rome to devote His adherents to flames and to
wild beasts in the amphitheater. The record does not disclose that
Pilate became fully acquainted at the trial of Jesus with His claims and
doctrines. On the other hand, it is clear that he became convinced that
the claim of Jesus to be "Christ a King" was not a pretension to earthly
sovereignty. But, nevertheless, whatever might have been the information
or the notions of the deputy of Tiberius, the teachings of Jesus were
inconsistent and incompatible with the public law of the Roman State.
Pilate was not necessarily called upon to enforce this law, since it was
frequently the duty of Roman governors, as intimated by Trajan in his
letter to Pliny, to exercise leniency in dealing with religious
delinquents.
To summarize, then: it may be said that the Roman law applicable to the
trial of Jesus was the _lex Julia Majestatis_, interpreted either in the
light of claims to actual kingship made by Jesus, or to kingship of a
religious realm whose character and existence were a menace to the
religion and laws of Rome. In the light of the evidence adduced at the
hearing before Pilate, these legal principles become mere abstract
propositions, since there seems to have been neither necessity nor
attempt to enforce them; but they were in existence, nevertheless, and
were directly applicable to the trial of Jesus.
[Illustration: PONTIUS PILATE (MUNKACSY)]
CHAPTER VII
PONTIUS PILATE
_His Name._--The prænomen or first name of Pilate is not known. Rosadi
calls him Lucius, but upon what authority is not stated. His nomen or
family name indicates that he was connected either by descent or by
adoption with the gens of the Pontii, a tribe first made famous in Roman
history in the person and achievements of C. Pontius Telesinus, the
great Samnite general. A German legend, however, offers another
explanation. According to this story, Pilate was the natural son of
Tyrus, King of Mayence. His father sent him to Rome as a hostage, and
there he was guilty of murder. Afterwards he was sent to Pontus, where
he distinguished himself by subduing certain barbarian tribes. In
recognition of his services, it is said, he received the name Pontius.
But this account is a pure fabrication. It is possible that it was
invented by the 22d legion, which was assigned to Palestine at the time
of the destruction of Jerusalem, and was afterwards stationed at
Mayence. The soldiers of this legion might have been "either the bearers
of this tradition or the inventors of the fable."
It is historically almost certain that Pilate was a native of Seville,
one of the cities of Bætic Spain that enjoyed rights of Roman
citizenship. In the war of annihilation waged by Agrippa against the
Cantabrians, the father of Pilate, Marcus Pontius, acquired fame as a
general on the side of Rome. He seems to have been a renegade to the
cause of the Spaniards, his countrymen. And when Spain had been
conquered by Rome, as a reward for service, and as a mark of
distinction, he received the pilum (javelin), and from this fact his
family took the name of Pilati. This is the common explanation of the
origin of the cognomen Pilatus.
Others have sought to derive the word Pilate from _pileatus_, which,
among the Romans, was the cap worn as a badge of servitude by manumitted
slaves. This derivation would make Pontius Pilate a _libertus_, or the
descendant of one.
Of his youth, very little is known. But it is believed that, after
leaving Spain, he entered the suite of Germanicus on the Rhine and
served through the German campaigns; and that, when peace was concluded,
he went to Rome in search of fortune and in pursuit of pleasure.
_His Marriage._--Soon after his arrival in Rome, Pilate was married to
Claudia, the youngest daughter of Julia, the daughter of Augustus. Julia
was a woman of the most dissolute and reckless habits. According to
Suetonius, nothing so embittered the life of the Roman emperor as the
shameful conduct of the mother of the wife of the procurator of Judea.
He had reared her with the utmost care, had accustomed her to domestic
employments such as knitting and spinning, and had sought to inculcate
principles of purity and nobility of soul by requiring her to speak and
act openly before the family, that everything which was said and done
might be put down in a diary. His guardianship of the attentions paid
her by young men was so strict that he once wrote a letter to Lucius
Vinicius, a handsome young man of good family, in which he said: "You
have not behaved very modestly, in making a visit to my daughter at
Baiæ." Notwithstanding this good training, Julia became one of the
lewdest and coarsest women in Rome. Augustus married her first to
Marcellus; then, after the death of Marcellus, to Marcus Agrippa; and,
finally, to Tiberius. But in spite of the noble matches that had been
made for her, her lewdness and debaucheries became so notorious that
Augustus was compelled to banish her from Rome. It is said that he was
so much ashamed of her infamous conduct that for a long time he avoided
all company, and even had thoughts of putting her to death. His sorrow
and humiliation are shown from the circumstance that when one Phoebe,
a freedwoman and confidante of hers, hanged herself about the time the
decree of banishment was passed by the senate, he said: "I had rather be
the father of Phoebe than of Julia." And whenever the name of Julia
was mentioned to him, during her exile, Augustus was wont to exclaim:
"Would I were wifeless, or had childless died."[51]
Such was the character of Julia, mother-in-law of Pilate. In exile, she
bore Claudia to a Roman knight. In her fifteenth year, the young girl
met the Spaniard in Rome and was courted by him. Nothing better
illustrates the character of Pilate than his union with this woman with
whose origin and bringing up he was well acquainted. It was a servile
and lustful rather than a noble and affectionate eye which he cast upon
her. Having won the favor of Tiberius and the consent of Claudia, the
marriage was consummated. After the nuptial rites, tradition has it that
Pilate desired to follow the bride in the imperial litter; but Tiberius,
who had acted as one of the twelve witnesses required by the law, forced
him back, and drawing a paper from his bosom, handed it to him and
passed on. This paper contained his commission as procurator of Judea;
and the real object of the suit paid to Claudia was attained.
Pilate proceeded at once to Cæsarea, the headquarters of the government
of his province. His wife, who had been left behind, joined him
afterwards. Cæsar's permission to do this was a most gracious
concession, as it was not generally allowed that governors of provinces
should take their wives with them. At first it was positively forbidden.
But afterwards a _senatus consult_, which is embodied in the Justinian
text, declared it better that the wives of proconsuls and procurators
should not go with them, but ordaining that said officials might take
their wives with them provided they made themselves personally
responsible for any transgressions on their part. Notwithstanding the
numerous restrictions of Roman law and custom, it is very evident that
the wives of Roman officers frequently accompanied them to the
provinces. From Tacitus we learn that at the time of the death of
Augustus, Germanicus had his wife Agrippina with him in Germany; and
afterwards, in the beginning of the reign of Tiberius, she was also with
him in the East. Piso, the præfect of Syria, took his wife with him at
the same time. These facts are historical corroborations of the Gospel
accounts of the presence of Claudia in Jerusalem at the time of the
crucifixion and of her warning dream to Pilate concerning the fate of
the Master.
_His Procuratorship._--Pontius Pilate was the sixth procurator of Judea.
Sabinus, Coponius, Ambivus, Rufus, and Gratus had preceded him in the
government of the province. Pilate's connection with the trial and
crucifixion of Jesus will be dealt with in succeeding chapters of this
volume. Only the chief acts of his public administration, in a purely
political capacity, will be noticed here. One of the first of these acts
serves well to illustrate the reckless and tactless character of the
man. His predecessors in office had exercised great care in the matter
of the religious prejudices of the Jews. They had studiously avoided
exhibiting flags and other emblems bearing images of the emperor that
might offend the sacred sentiments of the native population. Even
Vitellius, the legate of Syria, when he was marching against the Arabian
king Aretas, ordered his troops not to carry their standards into Jewish
territory, but to march around it. Pilate, on the other hand, in
defiance of precedent and policy, caused the garrison soldiers of
Jerusalem to enter the city by night carrying aloft their standards,
blazoned with the images of Tiberius. The news of this outrage threw the
Jews into wild excitement. The people in great numbers flocked down to
Cæsarea, where Pilate was still stopping, and begged him to remove the
standards. Pilate refused; and for five days the discussion went on. At
last he became enraged, summoned the people into the race course, had
them surrounded by a detachment of soldiers, and served notice upon them
that he would have them put to death if they did not become quiet and
disperse. But, not in the least dismayed, they threw themselves upon the
ground, laid bare their necks, and, in their turn, served notice upon
Pilate that they, the children of Abraham, would rather die, and that
they would die, before they would willingly see the Holy City defiled.
The result was that Pilate finally yielded, and had the standards and
images withdrawn from Jerusalem. Such was the Roman procurator and such
the people with whom he had to deal. Thus the very first act of his
procuratorship was a blunder which embarrassed his whole subsequent
career.
A new storm burst forth when, on another occasion, Pilate appropriated
funds from the Corban or sacred treasury to complete an aqueduct for
bringing water to Jerusalem from the "Pools of Solomon." This was
certainly a most useful enterprise; and, ordinarily, would speak well
for the statesmanship and administrative ability of the procurator. But,
in this instance, it was only another exhibition of tactless behavior in
dealing with a stubborn and peculiar people. The Jews had a very great
reverence for whatever was set apart for the Corban, and they considered
it a form of awful impiety to devote its funds to secular purposes.
Pilate, we must assume, was well acquainted with their religious
scruples in this regard, and his open defiance of their prejudices was
an illustration not of courage, but of weakness in administrative
matters. Moreover, his final conduct in the matter of the aqueduct
revealed a malignant quality in the temper of the man. On one occasion
when he was getting ready to go to Jerusalem to supervise the building
of this work, he learned that the people would again importune him, as
in the case of the standards and the images. He then deliberately caused
some of his soldiers to be disguised as Jewish citizens, had them armed
with clubs and daggers, which they carried concealed beneath their upper
garments; and when the multitude approached him to make complaints and
to present their petitions, he gave a preconcerted signal, at which the
assassins beat down and cut to pieces great numbers of the helpless
crowds. Pilate was victorious in this matter; for the opposition to the
building of the aqueduct was thus crushed in a most bloody manner. But
hatred against Pilate was stirred up afresh and intensified in the
hearts of the Jews.
A third act of defiance of the religious prejudices of the inhabitants
of Jerusalem illustrates not only the obstinacy but the stupidity as
well of the deputy of Cæsar in Judea. In the face of his previous
experiences, he insisted on hanging up in Herod's palace certain gilt
shields dedicated to Tiberius. The Jews remonstrated with him in vain
for this new outrage upon their national feelings. They were all the
more indignant because they believed that he had done it, "less for the
honor of Tiberius than for the annoyance of the Jewish people." Upon the
refusal of Pilate to remove the shields, a petition signed by the
leading men of the nation, among whom were the four sons of Herod, was
addressed to the emperor, asking for the removal of the offensive
decorations. Tiberius granted the request and the shields were taken
from Jerusalem and deposited in the temple of Augustus at Cæsarea--"And
thus were preserved both the honor of the emperor and the ancient
customs of the city."[52]
The instances above cited are recounted in the works of Josephus[53] and
Philo. But the New Testament also contains intimations that Pilate was a
cruel and reckless governor in his dealings with the Jews. According to
St. Luke xiii. 1: "There were present at that season some that told him
of the Galileans, whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices."
Nothing definite is known of this incident mentioned by the Evangelist.
But it probably refers to the fact that Pilate had put to the sword a
number of Galileans while they were offering their sacrifices at
Jerusalem.
_His Character._--The estimates of the character of Pilate are as varied
as the races and creeds of men. Both Josephus and Philo have handed down
to posterity a very ugly picture of the sixth Roman procurator of
Judea. Philo charges him with "corruptibility, violence, robberies,
ill-treatment of the people, grievances, continuous executions without
even the form of a trial, endless and intolerable cruelties." If we were
to stop with this, we should have a very poor impression of the deputy
of Tiberius; and, indeed at best, we can never either admire or love
him. But there is a tender and even pathetic side to the character of
Pilate, which is revealed to us by the Evangelists of the New Testament.
The pure-hearted, gentle-minded authors of the Gospels, in whose
writings there is not even a tinge of bitterness or resentment, have
restored "for us the man within the governor, with a delicacy, and even
tenderness, which make the accusing portrait of Philo and Josephus look
like a hard, revengeful daub." Instead of painting him as a monster,
they have linked conscience to his character and placed mercy in his
heart, by their accounts of his repeated attempts to release Jesus. The
extreme of pity and of pathos, derived from these exquisitely merciful
side touches of the gentle biographers of the Christ, is manifested in
the opinion of Tertullian that Pilate was virtually a Christian at
heart.[54]
A further manifestation is the fact that the Abyssinian Church of
Christians has canonized him and placed his name in the calendar on June
25th.
A still further revelation of this spirit of regarding Pilate merely as
a sacred instrument in the hands of God is shown by the Apocryphal
Gospel of Nicodemus which speaks of him as "uncircumcised in flesh but
circumcised in heart."
Renan has called him a good administrator, and has sought to condone his
brutal treatment of the Jews by pointing to the necessity of vigorous
action in dealing with a turbulent and fanatical race. But the combined
efforts of both sacred and secular apologists are still not sufficient
to save the name of Pilate from the scorn and reprobation of mankind.
That he was not a bad man in the worst sense of the term is manifest
from the teachings of the Gospel narratives. To believe that he was
wholly without conscience is to repudiate the revelations of these
sacred writings. Of wanton cruelty and gratuitous wickedness, he was
perhaps incapable. But the circumstances of his birth and breeding; his
descent from a renegade father; his adventurous life in the army of
Germanicus; his contact with and absorption of the skepticism and
debauchery of Rome; his marriage to a woman of questionable virtue whose
mother was notoriously coarse and lewd--all these things had given
coloring to the character of Pilate and had stricken with inward
paralysis the moral fiber of his manhood. And now, in the supreme moment
of his life and of history, from his nerveless grasp fell the reins of
fate and fortune that destiny had placed within his hands. Called upon
to play a leading rôle in the mighty drama of the universe, his craven
cowardice made him a pitiable and contemptible figure. A splendid
example this, the conduct of Pilate, for the youth of the world, not to
imitate but to shun! Let the young men of America and of all the earth
remember that a crisis is allotted to every life. It may be a great one
or a small one, but it will come either invited or unbidden. The sublime
courage of the soul does not avoid, but seeks this crisis. The bravest
and most holy aspirations leap at times like angels from the temple of
the brain to the highest heaven. Never a physician who does not long for
the skill that discovers a remedy for disease and that will make him a
Pasteur or a Koch; never a poet that does not beseech the muse to
inspire him to write a Hamlet or a Faust; never a general of armies who
would not fight an Austerlitz battle. Every ambitious soul fervently
prays for strength, when the great crisis comes, to swing the hammer of
the Cyclop with the arm of the Titan. Let the young aspirant for the
glories of the earth and the rewards of heaven remember that youth is
the time for the formation of that courage and the gathering of that
strength of which victory is born. Let him remember that if he degrades
his physical and spiritual manhood in early life, the coming of the
great day of his existence will make him another Pilate--cringing,
crouching, and contemptible.
The true character of the Roman judge of Jesus is thus very tersely
given by Dr. Ellicott: "A thorough and complete type of the later Roman
man of the world: stern, but not relentless; shrewd and worldworn,
prompt and practical, haughtily just, and yet, as the early writers
correctly perceived, self-seeking and cowardly; able to perceive what
was right, but without moral strength to follow it out."[55]
_His End._--Pilate's utter recklessness was the final cause of his
undoing. It was an old belief among the Samaritans that Moses buried the
sacred vessels of the temple on Mt. Gerizim. An impostor, a sort of
pseudo-prophet, promised the people that if they would assemble on the
top of the mountain, he would unearth the holy utensils in their
presence. The simple-minded Samaritans assembled in great numbers at the
foot of the Mount, and there preparing to ascend, when Pilate on the
pretense that they were revolutionists, intercepted them with a strong
force of horse and foot. Those who did not immediately submit were
either slain or put to flight. The most notable among the captives were
put to death. The Samaritans at once complained to Vitellius, the legate
in Syria at that time. Vitellius at once turned over the administration
of Judea to Marcellus and ordered Pilate to leave for Rome in order to
give an account to the emperor of the charges brought against him by the
Jews.[56] Before he arrived in Italy, Tiberius had died; but Pilate
never returned to the province over which he had ruled during ten bloody
and eventful years.
"_Paradosis Pilati._"--The death of Pilate is clouded in mystery and
legend. Where and when he died is not known. Two apocryphal accounts are
interesting, though false and ridiculous. According to one legend, the
"Paradosis Pilati," the emperor Tiberius, startled and terrified at the
universal darkness that had fallen on the Roman world at the hour of the
crucifixion, summoned Pilate to Rome to answer for having caused it. He
was found guilty and condemned to death; but before he was executed, he
prayed to Jesus that he might not be destroyed in eternity with the
wicked Jews, and pleaded ignorance as an excuse for having delivered the
Christ to be crucified. A voice from heaven answered his prayer, and
assured him that all generations would call him blessed, and that he
should be a witness for Christ at his second coming to judge the Twelve
Tribes of Israel. He was then executed; an angel, according to the
legend, received his head; and his wife died from joy and was buried
with him.
"_Mors Pilati._"--According to another legend, the "Mors Pilati,"
Tiberius had heard of the miracles of healing wrought by Jesus in Judea.
He ordered Pilate to conduct to Rome the man possessed of such divine
power. But Pilate was forced to confess that he had crucified the
miracle worker. The messenger sent by Tiberius met Veronica who gave him
the cloth that had received the impress of the divine features. This was
taken to Rome and given to the emperor, who was restored to health by
it. Pilate was summoned immediately to stand trial for the execution of
the Christ. He presented himself wearing the holy tunic. This acted as a
charm upon the emperor, who temporarily relented. After a time, however,
Pilate was thrown into prison, where he committed suicide. His body was
thrown into the Tiber. Storms and tempests immediately followed, and the
Romans were compelled to take out the corpse and send it to Vienne,
where it was cast into the Rhone. But as the storms and tempests came
again, the body was again removed and sent to Lucerne, where it was sunk
in a deep pool, surrounded by mountains on all sides. Even then, it is
said, the water of the pool began to boil and bubble strangely.
This tradition must have had its origin in an early attempt to connect
the name of Pilate with Mt. Pilatus that overlooks Lake Lucerne. Another
legend connected with this mountain is that Pilate sought to find an
asylum from his sorrows in its shadows and recesses; that, after
spending years in remorse and despair, wandering up and down its sides,
he plunged into the dismal lake which occupies its summit. In times
past, popular superstition was wont to relate how "a form is often seen
to emerge from the gloomy waters, and go through the action of washing
his hands; and when he does so, dark clouds of mist gather first round
the bosom of the Infernal Lake (such as it has been styled of old) and
then wrapping the whole upper part of the mountain in darkness, presage
a tempest or hurricane which is sure to follow in a short space."[57]
The superstitious Swiss believed for many centuries that if a stone were
thrown into the lake a violent storm would follow. For many years no one
was permitted to visit it without special authority from the officers of
Lucerne. The neighboring shepherds bound themselves by a solemn oath,
which they renewed annually, never to guide a stranger to it.[58] The
strange spell was broken, however, and the legend exploded in 1584,
when Johannes Müller, curé of Lucerne, was bold enough to throw stones
into the lake, and to stand by complacently to await the
consequences.[59]
CHAPTER VIII
JESUS BEFORE PILATE
At the close of their trial, according to Matthew[60] and Mark,[61] the
high priest and the entire Sanhedrin led Jesus away to the tribunal of
the Roman governor. It was early morning, probably between six and seven
o'clock, when the accusing multitude moved from the judgment seat of
Caiaphas to the Prætorium of Pilate. Oriental labor anticipates the day
because of the excessive heat of noon; and, at daybreak, Eastern life is
all astir. To accommodate the people and to enjoy the repose of midday,
Roman governors, Suetonius tells us, mounted the _bema_ at sunrise. The
location of the judgment hall of Pilate in Jerusalem is not certainly
known. It may have been in the Castle of Antonia, a frowning fortress
that overlooked the Temple and its courts. Much more probably, however,
it was the magnificent palace of Herod, situated in the northwest
quarter of the city. This probability is heightened by the fact that it
was a custom born of both pride and pleasure, for Roman procurators and
proconsuls to occupy the splendid edifices of the local kings. The
Roman proprætor of Sicily dwelt in the Castle of King Hiero; and it is
reasonable to suppose that Pilate would have passed his time while at
Jerusalem in the palace of Herod. This building was frequently called
the "King's Castle," sometimes was styled the "Prætorium," and was often
given the mixed name of "Herod's Prætorium." But, by whatever name
known, it was of gorgeous architecture and magnificent proportions. Keim
describes it as "a tyrant's stronghold and in part a fairy
pleasure-house." A wall thirty cubits high completely encircled the
buildings of the palace. Beautiful white towers crowned this wall at
regular intervals. Three of these were named in honor of Mariamne, the
wife; Hippicus, the friend; and Phasælus, the brother of the king.
Within the inclosure of the wall, a small army could have been
garrisoned. The floors and ceilings of the palace were decorated and
adorned with the finest woods and precious stones. Projecting from the
main building were two colossal marble wings, named for two Roman
imperial friends, the Cæsareum and the Ægrippeum. To a person standing
in one of the towers, a magnificent prospect opened to the view.
Surrounding the castle walls were beautiful green parks, intercepted
with broad walks and deep canals. Here and there splashing fountains
gushed from brazen mouths. A hundred dovecots, scattered about the
basins and filled with cooing and fluttering inmates, lent charm and
animation to the scene. And to crown the whole, was the splendid
panorama of Jerusalem stretching away among the hills and valleys. Such
was the residence of the Roman knight who at this time ruled Judea. And
yet, with all its regal splendor and magnificence, he inhabited it only
a few weeks in each year. The Jewish metropolis had no fascination
whatever for the tastes and accomplishments of Pilate. "The saddest
region in the world," says Renan, who had been imbued, from long
residence there, with its melancholy character, "is perhaps that which
surrounds Jerusalem." "To the Spaniard," says Rosadi, "who had come to
Jerusalem, by way of Rome, and who was also of courtly origin, there
could have been nothing pleasing in the parched, arid and colorless
nature of Palestine, much less in the humble, mystic, out-at-elbows
existence of its people. Their superstition, which would have nothing of
Roman idolatry, which was their sole belief, their all, appeared to him
a reasonable explanation, and a legitimate one, of their disdain and
opposition. He therefore detested the Jews, and his detestation was
fully reciprocated." It is not surprising, then, that he preferred to
reside at Cæsarea by the sea where were present Roman modes of thought
and forms of life. He visited Jerusalem as a matter of official duty,
"during the festivals, and particularly at Easter with its dreaded
inspirations of the Jewish longing for freedom, which the festival, the
air of spring and the great rendezvous of the nation, charmed into
activity." In keeping with this custom, Pilate was now in the Jewish
Capital on the occasion of the feast of the Passover.
Having condemned Him to death themselves, the Sanhedrin judges were
compelled to lead Jesus away to the Prætorium of the Roman governor to
see what he had to say about the case; whether he would reverse or
affirm the condemnation which they had pronounced. Between dawn and
sunrise, they were at the palace gates. Here they were compelled to
halt. The Passover had commenced, and to enter the procurator's palace
at such a time was to incur Levitic contamination. A dozen judicial
blunders had marked the proceedings of their own trial in the palace of
Caiaphas. And yet they hesitated to violate a purely ritual regulation
in the matter of ceremonial defilement. This regulation was a
prohibition to eat fermented food during the Passover Feast, and was
sacred to the memory of the great deliverance from Egyptian bondage when
the children of Israel, in their flight, had no time to ferment their
dough and were compelled to consume it before it had been leavened.
Their purposes and scruples were announced to Pilate; and, in a spirit
of gracious and politic condescension, he removed the difficulty by
coming out to meet them. But this action was really neither an
inconvenience nor a condescension; for it was usual to conduct Roman
trials in the open air. Publicity was characteristic of all Roman
criminal proceedings. And, in obedience to this principle, we find that
the proconsul of Achaia at Corinth, the city magistrates in Macedonia,
and the procurators at Cæsarea and Jerusalem, erected their tribunals in
the most conspicuous public places, such as the market, the race course,
and even upon the open highway.[62] An example directly in point is,
moreover, that of the procurator Florus who caused his judgment seat to
be raised in front of the palace of Herod, A.D. 66, and, enthroned
thereon, received the great men of Jerusalem who came to see him and
gathered around his tribunal. To the same place, according to Josephus,
the Jewish queen Bernice came barefoot and suppliant to ask favors of
Florus.[63] The act of Pilate in emerging from the palace to meet the
Jews was, therefore, in exact compliance with Roman custom. His judgment
seat was doubtless raised immediately in front of the entrance and
between the great marble wings of the palace. Pilate's tribune or _bema_
was located in this space on the elevated spot called Gabaatha, an
Aramaic word signifying an eminence, a "hump." The same place in Greek
was called Lithostroton, and signified "The Pavement," because it was
laid with Roman marble mosaic. The location on an eminence was in
accordance with a maxim of Roman law that all criminal trials should be
directed from a raised tribunal where everybody could see and understand
what was being said and done. The ivory curule chair of the procurator,
or perhaps the ancient golden royal chair of Archelaus was placed upon
the tessellated pavement and was designed for the use of the governor.
As a general thing, there was sitting room on the tribunal for the
assessors, the accusers and the accused. But such courtesies and
conveniences were not extended to the despised subjects of Judea; and
Jesus, as well as the members of the Sanhedrin, was compelled to stand.
The Latin language was the official tongue of the Roman empire, and was
generally used in the administration of justice. But at the trial of
Jesus it is believed that the Greek language was the medium of
communication. Jesus had doubtless become acquainted with Greek in
Galilee and probably replied to Pilate in that tongue. This is the
opinion, at least, of both Keim[64] and Geikie.[65] The former asserts
that there was no interpreter called at the trial of Christ. It is also
reasonably certain that no special orator like Tertullus, who informed
the governor against Paul, was present to accuse Jesus.[66] Doubtless
Caiaphas the high priest played this important rôle.
When Pilate had mounted the _bema_, and order had been restored, he
asked:
"What accusation bring ye against this man?"
This question is keenly suggestive of the presence of a judge and of the
beginning of a solemn judicial proceeding. Every word rings with Roman
authority and administrative capacity. The suggestion is also prominent
that accusation was a more important element in Roman criminal trials
than inquisition. This suggestion is reënforced by actual _dictum_ from
the lips of Pilate's successor in the same place: "It is not the manner
of the Romans to deliver any man to die, before that he which is accused
have the accusers face to face, and have license to answer for himself
concerning the crime laid against him."[67]
The chief priests and scribes sought to evade this question by
answering:
"If he were not a malefactor, we would not have delivered him up unto
thee."[68]
They meant by this that they desired the procurator to waive his right
to retry the case; accept their trial as conclusive; and content himself
with the mere execution of the sentence. In this reply of the priests to
the initial question of the Roman judge, is also revealed the further
question of that conflict of jurisdiction between Jews and Romans that
we have already so fully discussed. "If he were not a malefactor, we
would not have delivered him up unto thee." These words from the mouths
of the priests were intended to convey to the mind of Pilate the Jewish
notion that a judgment by the Sanhedrin was all-sufficient; and that
they merely needed his countersign to justify execution. But Pilate did
not take the hint or view the question in that light. In a tone of
contemptuous scorn he simply replied:
"Take ye him, and judge him according to your law."
This answer indicates that Pilate did not, at first, understand the
exact nature of the proceedings against Jesus. He evidently did not know
that the prisoner had been charged with a capital offense; else he would
not have suggested that the Jews take jurisdiction of the matter. This
is clearly shown from the further reply of the priestly accusers:
"It is not lawful for us to put any man to death."[69]
The advice of Pilate and the retort of the Jews have been construed in
two ways. A certain class of critics have contended that the procurator
granted to the Jews in this instance the right to carry out capital
punishment, as others have maintained was the case in the execution of
Stephen. This construction argues that Pilate knew at once the nature of
the accusation.
Another class of writers contend that the governor, by this language,
merely proposed to them one of the minor penalties which they were
already empowered to execute. The objection to the first interpretation
is that the Jews would have been delighted to have such power conferred
upon them, and would have exercised it; unless it is true, as has been
held, that they were desirous of throwing the odium of Christ's death
upon the Romans. The second construction is entirely admissible, because
it is consonant with the theory that jurisdiction in capital cases had
been withdrawn from the Sanhedrin, but that the trial and punishment of
petty offenses still remained with it. A third and more reasonable
interpretation still is that when Pilate said, "Take ye him and judge
him according to your law," he intended to give expression to the hatred
and bitterness of his cynical and sarcastic soul. He despised the Jews
most heartily, and he knew that they hated him. He had repeatedly
outraged their religious feelings by introducing images and shields into
the Holy City. He had devoted the Corban funds to unhallowed purposes,
and had mingled the blood of the Galileans with their sacrifices. In
short, he had left nothing undone to humiliate and degrade them. Now
here was another opportunity. By telling them to judge Jesus according
to their own laws, he knew that they must make a reply which would be
wounding and galling to their race and national pride. He knew that they
would have to confess that sovereignty and nationality were gone from
them. Such a confession from them would be music to his ear. The
substance of his advice to the Jews was to exercise their rights to a
certain point, to the moment of condemnation; but to stop at the place
where their sweetest desires would be gratified with the exercise of the
rights of sovereignty and nationality.
Modern poetry supports this interpretation of ancient history. "The
Merchant of Venice" reveals the same method of heaping ridicule upon a
Jew by making him impotent to execute the law. Shylock, the Jew, in
contracting a usurious loan, inserted a stipulation that if the debt
should not be paid when due, the debtor must allow a pound of flesh to
be cut from his body. The debt was not discharged at the maturity of the
bond, and Shylock made application to the Doge to have the pound of
human flesh delivered to him in accordance with the compact. But Portia,
a friend of the debtor, though a woman, assumed the garb and affected
the speech of a lawyer in his defense; and, in pleading the case, called
tauntingly and exultingly to the Jew:
This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood;
The words expressly are, a pound of flesh:
Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh;
But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed
One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods
Are by the laws of Venice confiscate
Unto the State of Venice.[70]
But whatever special interpretation may be placed upon the opening words
passed between the priestly accusers and the Roman judge, it is clearly
evident that the latter did not intend to surrender to the former the
right to impose and execute a sentence of death. The substance of
Pilate's address to the Jews, when they sought to evade his question
concerning the accusation which they had to bring against Jesus, was
this: I have asked for a specific charge against the man whom you have
brought bound to me. You have given not a direct, but an equivocal
answer. I infer that the crime with which you charge him is one against
your own laws. With such offenses I do not wish to meddle. Therefore, I
say unto you: "Take ye him and judge him according to your law." If I am
not to know the specific charge against him, I will not assume
cognizance of the case. If the accusation and the facts relied upon to
support it are not placed before me, I will not sentence the man to
death; and, under the law, you cannot.
The Jews were thus thwarted in their designs. They had hoped to secure a
countersign of their own judgment without a retrial by the governor.
They now found him in no yielding and accommodating mood. They were thus
forced against their will and expectation to formulate specific charges
against the prisoner in their midst. The indictment as they presented
it, is given in a single verse of St. Luke:
"And they began to accuse him, saying, We found this fellow perverting
the nation, and forbidding to give tribute to Cæsar, saying that he
himself is Christ, a King."[71]
It is noteworthy that in this general accusation is a radical departure
from the charges of the night before. In the passage from the Sanhedrin
to the Prætorium, the indictment had completely changed. Jesus had not
been condemned on any of the charges recorded in this sentence of St.
Luke. He had been convicted on the charge of blasphemy. But before
Pilate he is now charged with high treason. To meet the emergency of a
change of jurisdiction, the priestly accusers converted the accusation
from a religious into a political offense. It may be asked why the
Sanhedrists did not maintain the same charges before Pilate that they
themselves had considered before their own tribunal. Why did they not
lead Jesus into the presence of the Roman magistrate and say: O
Governor, we have here a Galilean blasphemer of Jehovah. We want him
tried on the charge of blasphemy, convicted and sentenced to death. Why
did they not do this? They were evidently too shrewd. Why? Because, in
legal parlance, they would have had no standing in court. Why? Because
blasphemy was not an offense against Roman law, and Roman judges would
generally assume cognizance of no such charges.
The Jews understood perfectly well at the trial before Pilate the
principle of Roman procedure so admirably expressed a few years later by
Gallio, proconsul of Achaia, and brother of Seneca: "If it were a matter
of wrong or wicked lewdness, O ye Jews, reason would that I should bear
with you: but if it be a question of words and names, and of your law,
look ye to it; for I will be no judge of such matters."[72] This
attitude of Roman governors toward offenses of a religious nature
perfectly explains the Jewish change of front in the matter of the
accusation against Jesus. They merely wanted to get themselves into a
Roman court on charges that a Roman judge would consent to try. In the
threefold accusation recorded by the third Evangelist, they fully
accomplished this result.
The first count in the indictment, that He was perverting the nation,
was vague and indefinite, but was undoubtedly against Roman law, because
it was in the nature of sedition, which was one of the forms of treason
under Roman jurisprudence. This charge of perverting the nation was in
the nature of the revival of the accusation of sedition which they had
first brought forward by means of the false witnesses before their own
tribunal, and that had been abandoned because of the contradictory
testimony of these witnesses.
The second count in the indictment, that He had forbidden to give
tribute to Cæsar, was of a more serious nature than the first. A
refusal, in modern times, to pay taxes or an attempt to obstruct their
collection, is a mild offense compared with a similar act under ancient
Roman law. To forbid to pay tribute to Cæsar in Judea was a form of
treason, not only because it was an open defiance of the laws of the
Roman state, but also because it was a direct denial of Roman
sovereignty in Palestine. Such conduct was treason under the definitions
of both Ulpian and Cicero. The Jews knew the gravity of the offense when
they sought to entrap Jesus in the matter of paying tribute to Cæsar.
They believed that any answer to the question that they had asked, would
be fatal to Him. If He advised to pay the imperial tribute, He could be
charged with being an enemy to His countrymen, the Jews. If He advised
not to pay the tribute, He would be charged with being a rebellious
subject of Cæsar. His reply disconcerted and bewildered them when He
said: "Render therefore unto Cæsar the things which are Cæsar's; and
unto God the things that are God's."[73] In this sublime declaration,
the Nazarene announced the immortal principle of the separation of
church and state, and of religious freedom in all the ages. And when, in
the face of His answer, they still charged Him with forbidding to pay
tribute to Cæsar, they seem to have been guilty of deliberate falsehood.
Keim calls the charge "a very flagrant lie." Both at Capernaum,[74]
where Roman taxes were gathered, and at Jerusalem,[75] where religious
dues were offered, Jesus seems to have been both a good citizen and a
pious Jew. "Jésus bon citoyen" (Jesus a good citizen) is the title of a
chapter in the famous work of Bossuet entitled "Politique tirée de
l'Ecriture sainte." In it the great French ecclesiastic describes very
beautifully the law-abiding qualities of the citizen-prophet of Galilee.
In pressing the false charge that he had advised not to pay taxes to
Rome, the enemies of Jesus revealed a peculiar and wanton malignity.
The third count in the indictment, that the prisoner had claimed to be
"Christ a King," was the last and greatest of the charges. By this He
was deliberately accused of high treason against Cæsar, the gravest
offense known to Roman law. Such an accusation could not be ignored by
Pilate as a loyal deputy of Tiberius. The Roman monarch saw high treason
in every word and act that was uncomplimentary to his person or
dangerous to his power. Fifty-two prosecutions for treason, says
Tacitus, took place during his reign.
The charges of high treason and sedition against Jesus were all the more
serious because the Romans believed Palestine to be the hotbed of
insurrection and sedition, and the birthplace of pretenders to kingly
powers. They had recently had trouble with claimants to thrones, some of
them from the lowest and most ignoble ranks. Judas, the son of Hezekiah,
whom Herod had caused to be put to death, proclaimed royal intentions,
gathered quite a multitude of adherents about him in the neighborhood of
Sepphoris in Galilee, raised an insurrection, assaulted and captured the
palace of the king at Sepphoris, seized all the weapons that were stored
away in it, and armed his followers with them. Josephus does not tell us
what became of this royal pretender; but he does say that "he became
terrible to all men, by tearing and rending those that came near
him."[76]
In the province of Perea, a certain Simon, who was formerly a slave of
Herod, collected a band of followers, and had himself proclaimed king by
them. He burned down the royal palace at Jericho, after having plundered
it. A detachment under the command of the Roman general Gratus made
short work of the pretensions of Simon by capturing his adherents and
putting him to death.[77]
Again, a certain peasant named Athronges, formerly a shepherd, claimed
to be a king, and for a long time, in concert with his four brothers,
annoyed the authorities of the country, until the insurrection was
finally broken up by Gratus and Ptolemy.[78]
In short, during the life of Jesus, Judea was passing through a period
of great religious and political excitement. The Messiah was expected
and a king was hoped for; and numerous pretenders appeared from time to
time. The Roman governors were constantly on the outlook for acts of
sedition and treason. And when the Jews led Jesus into the presence of
Pilate and charged Him with claiming to be a king, the recent cases of
Judas, Simon, and Athronges must have arisen in his mind, quickened his
interest in the pretensions of the prisoner of the Jews, and must have
awakened his sense of loyalty as Cæsar's representative. The lowliness
of Jesus, being a carpenter, did not greatly allay his fears; for he
must have remembered that Simon was once a slave and that Athronges was
nothing more than a simple shepherd.
When Pilate had heard the accusations of the Jews, he deliberately arose
from his judgment seat, gathered his toga about him, motioned the mob to
stand back, and beckoned Jesus to follow him into the palace. St. John
alone tells us of this occurrence.[79]
At another time, in the Galilean simplicity and freedom of His nature,
the Prophet of Nazareth had spoken with a tinge of censure and sarcasm
of the rulers of the Gentiles that lorded it over their subjects,[80]
and had declared that "they that wear soft clothing are in kings'
houses."[81] Now the lowly Jewish peasant was entering for the first
time a palace of one of the rulers of the Gentiles in which were soft
raiment and royal purple. The imagination is helpless to picture the
historical reflections born of the memories of that hour. A meek and
lowly carpenter enters a king's palace on his way to an ignominious
death upon the cross; and yet the greatest kings of all the centuries
that followed were humble worshipers in their palaces before the cross
that had been the instrument of his torture and degradation. Such is the
irony of history; such is the mystery of God's providence; such is the
mystic ebb and flow of the tides and currents of destiny and fate.
Of the examination of Jesus inside the palace, little is known. Pilate,
it seems, brushed the first two charges aside as unworthy of serious
consideration; and proceeded at once to examine the prisoner on the
charge that he pretended to be a king. "If," Pilate must have said,
"the fellow pretends to be a king, as Simon and Athronges did before
him; if he says that Judea has a right to have a king other than Cæsar,
he is guilty of treason, and it is my solemn duty as deputy of Tiberius
to ascertain the fact and have him put to death."
The beginning of the interrogation of Jesus within the palace is
reported by all the Evangelists in the same words. Addressing the
prisoner, Pilate asked: "Art thou the King of the Jews?" "Jesus answered
him, Sayest thou this thing of thyself, or did others tell it thee of
me?"[82]
This was a most natural and fitting response of the Nazarene to the
Roman. It was necessary first to understand the exact nature of the
question before an appropriate answer could be made. Jesus simply wished
to know whether the question was asked from a Roman or a Jewish, from a
temporal or a spiritual standpoint. If the interrogation was directed
from a Roman, a temporal point of view, His answer would be an emphatic
negative. If the inquiry had been prompted by the Jews, it was then
pregnant with religious meaning, and called for a different reply; one
that would at once repudiate pretensions to earthly royalty, and, at the
same time, assert His claims to the Messiahship and heavenly
sovereignty.
"Pilate answered, Am I a Jew? Thine own nation and the chief priests
have delivered thee unto me: What hast thou done?"
To this Jesus replied: "My kingdom is not of this world: if my kingdom
were of this world, then would my servants fight, that I should not be
delivered to the Jews: but now is my kingdom not from hence."[83]
This reply of the Master is couched in that involved, aphoristic,
strangely beautiful style that characterized His speech at critical
moments in His career. Its import is clear, though expressed in a double
sense: first from the Roman political, and then from the Jewish
religious side.
First He answered negatively: "My kingdom is not of this world."
By this He meant that there was no possible rivalry between Him and
Cæsar. But, in making this denial, He had used two words of grave
import: My Kingdom. He had used one word that struck the ear of Pilate
with electric force: the word Kingdom. In the use of that word,
according to Pilate's reasoning, Jesus stood self-convicted. For how,
thought Pilate, can He pretend to have a Kingdom, unless He pretends to
be a king? And then, as if to cow and intimidate the prisoner, as if to
avoid an unpleasant issue of the affair, he probably advanced
threateningly upon the Christ, and asked the question which the Bible
puts in his mouth: "Art thou a king then?"
Rising from the simple dignity of a man to the beauty and glory and
grandeur of a God, Jesus used the most wonderful, beautiful, meaningful
words in the literature of the earth: "Thou sayest that I am a king. To
this end was I born, and for this cause came I into the world, that I
should bear witness unto the truth. Everyone that is of the truth
heareth my voice."[84]
This language contains a perfectly clear description of the kingdom of
Christ and of His title to spiritual sovereignty. His was not an empire
of matter, but a realm of truth. His kingdom differed widely from that
of Cæsar. Cæsar's empire was over the bodies of men; Christ's over their
souls. The strength of Cæsar's kingdom was in citadels, armies, navies,
the towering Alps, the all-engirdling seas. The strength of the kingdom
of the Christ was and is and will ever be in sentiments, principles,
ideas, and the saving power of a divine word. But, as clever and
brilliant as he must have been, Pilate could not grasp the true meaning
of the words of the Prophet. The spiritual and intellectual grandeur of
the Galilean peasant was beyond the reach of the Roman lord and
governor. In a cynical and sarcastic mood, Pilate turned to Jesus and
asked: "What is truth?"[85]
This pointed question was the legitimate offspring of the soul of Pilate
and a natural product of the Roman civilization of his age. It was not
asked with any real desire to know the truth; for he turned to leave the
palace before an answer could be given. It was simply a blank response
born of mental wretchedness and doubt. If prompted by any silent
yearning for a knowledge of the truth, his conduct indicated clearly
that he did not hope to have that longing satisfied by the words of the
humble prisoner in his charge. "What is truth?" An instinctive utterance
this, prompted by previous sad reflections upon the wrecks of philosophy
in search of truth.
We have reason to believe that Pilate was a man of brilliant parts and
studious habits. His marriage into the Roman royal family argued not
only splendid physical endowments, but rare intellectual gifts as well.
Only on this hypothesis can we explain his rise from obscurity in Spain
to a place in the royal family as husband of the granddaughter of
Augustus and foster daughter of Tiberius. Then he was familiar, if he
was thus endowed and accomplished, with the despairing efforts of his
age and country to solve the mysteries of life and to ascertain the end
of man. He had doubtless, as a student, "mused and mourned over Greece,
and its search of truth intellectual--its keen and fruitless search,
never-ending, ever beginning, across wastes of doubt and seas of
speculation lighted by uncertain stars." He knew full well that Roman
philosophy had been wrecked and stranded amidst the floating débris of
Grecian thought and speculation. He had thought that the _ultima ratio_
of Academicians and Peripatetics, of Stoics and Epicureans had been
reached. But here was a new proposition--a kingdom of truth whose
sovereign had as subjects mere vagaries, simple mental conceptions
called truths--a kingdom whose boundaries were not mountains, seas, and
rivers, but clouds, hopes, and dreams.
What did Pilate think of Jesus? He evidently regarded Him as an amiable
enthusiast, a harmless religious fanatic from whom Cæsar had nothing to
fear. While alone with Jesus in the palace, he must have reasoned thus
with himself, silently and contemptuously: The mob outside tells me that
this man is Rome's enemy. Foolish thought! We know who Cæsar's enemies
are. We have seen and heard and felt the enemies of Rome--barbarians
from beyond the Danube and the Rhine--great strong men, who can drive a
javelin not only through a man, but a horse, as well. These are Cæsar's
enemies. This strange and melancholy man, whose subjects are mere
abstract truths, and whose kingdom is beyond the skies, can be no enemy
of Cæsar.
Believing this, he went out to the rabble and pronounced a verdict of
acquittal: "I find in him no fault at all."
Pilate had tried and acquitted Jesus. Why did he not release Him, and,
if need be, protect Him with his cohort from the assaults of the Jews?
Mankind has asked for nearly two thousand years why a Roman, with the
blood of a Roman in him, with the glorious prestige and stern authority
of the Roman empire at his back, with a Roman legion at his command, did
not have the courage to do the high Roman act. Pilate was a moral and
intellectual coward of arrant type. This is his proper characterization
and a fitting answer to the world's eternal question.
The Jews heard his sentence of acquittal in sullen silence. Desperately
resolved to prevent His release, they began at once to frame new
accusations.
"And they were the more fierce, saying, He stirreth up the people,
teaching throughout all Jewry, beginning from Galilee to this
place."[86]
This charge was intended by the Jews to serve a double purpose: to
strengthen the general accusation of high treason recorded by St. Luke;
and to embitter and poison the mind of the judge against the prisoner by
telling Pilate that Jesus was from Galilee. In ancient times Galilee was
noted as the hotbed of riot and sedition. The Galileans were brave and
hardy mountaineers who feared neither Rome nor Judea. As champions of
Jewish nationality, they were the fiercest opponents of Roman rule; and
in the final catastrophe of Jewish history they were the last to be
driven from the battlements of Jerusalem. As advocates and preservers of
the purity of the primitive Jewish faith, they were relentless foes of
Pharisaic and Sadducean hypocrisy as it was manifested by the Judean
keepers of the Temple. The Galileans were hated, therefore, by both
Romans and Judeans; and the Sanhedrists believed that Pilate would make
short work of Jesus if he learned that the prisoner was from Galilee.
But a different train of thought was excited in the mind of the Roman
governor. He was thinking about one thing, and they about another.
Pilate showed himself throughout the trial a craven coward and
contemptible timeserver. From beginning to end, his conduct was a record
of cowardice and subterfuge. He was constantly looking for loopholes of
escape. His heart's desire was to satisfy at once both his conscience
and the mob. The mention of Galilee was a ray of light that fell across
the troubled path of the cowardly and vacillating judge. He believed
that he saw an avenue of escape. He asked the Jews if Jesus was a
Galilean. An affirmative reply was given. Pilate then determined to rid
himself of responsibility by sending Jesus to be tried by the governor
of the province to which He belonged. He felt that fortune favored his
design; for Herod, Tetrarch of Galilee, was at that very moment in
Jerusalem in attendance upon the Passover feast. He acted at once upon
the happy idea; and, under the escort of a detachment of the Prætorian
Cohort, Jesus was led away to the palace of the Maccabees where Herod
was accustomed to stop when he came to the Holy City.
CHAPTER IX
JESUS BEFORE HEROD
It was still early morning when Jesus, guarded by Roman soldiers and
surrounded by a jeering, scoffing, raging multitude of Jews, was
conducted to the palace of the Maccabees on the slope of Zion, the
official residence of Herod when he came to Jerusalem to attend the
sacred festivals. This place was to the northeast of the palace of Herod
and only a few streets distant from it. The journey must have lasted
therefore only a few minutes.
But who was this Herod before whom Jesus now appeared in chains? History
mentions many Herods, the greatest and meanest of whom was Herod I,
surnamed the Great, who ordered the massacre of the Innocents at
Bethlehem. At his death, he bequeathed his kingdom to his sons. But
being a client-prince, a _rex socius_, he could not finally dispose of
his realm without the consent of Rome. Herod had made several wills,
and, at his death, contests arose between his sons for the vacant throne
of the father. Several embassies were sent to Rome to argue the rights
of the different claimants. Augustus granted the petitioners many
audiences; and, after long delay, finally confirmed practically the last
will of Herod. This decision gave Judea, Samaria, and Idumea, with a
tribute of six hundred talents, to Archelaus. Philip received the
regions of Gaulanitis, Auranitis, Trachonitis, Batanea, and Iturea, with
an income of one hundred talents. Herod Antipas was given the provinces
of Galilee and Perea, with an annual tribute of two hundred talents and
the title of Tetrarch. The title of Ethnarch was conferred upon
Archelaus.
Herod Antipas, Tetrarch of Galilee, was the man before whom Jesus, his
subject, was now led to be judged. The pages of sacred history mention
the name of no more shallow and contemptible character than this petty
princeling, this dissolute Idumæan Sadducee. Compared with him, Judas is
eminently respectable. Judas had a conscience which, when smitten with
remorse, drove him to suicide. It is doubtful whether Herod had a spark
of that celestial fire which we call conscience. He was a typical
Oriental prince whose chief aim in life was the gratification of his
passions. The worthlessness of his character was so pronounced that it
excited a nauseating disgust in the mind of Jesus, and disturbed for a
moment that serene and lofty magnanimity which characterized His whole
life and conduct. To Herod is addressed the only purely contemptuous
epithet that the Master is ever recorded to have used. "And he said unto
them, Go ye, and tell _that fox_, Behold, I cast out devils, and I do
cures to-day and to-morrow, and the third day I shall be perfected."[87]
The son of a father who was ten times married and had murdered many of
his wives; the murderer himself of John the Baptist; the slave of a lewd
and wicked woman--what better could be expected than a cruel, crafty,
worthless character, whose attributes were those of the fox?
But why was Jesus sent to Herod? Doubtless because Pilate wished to
shift the responsibility from his own shoulders, as a Roman judge, to
those of the Galilean Tetrarch. A subsidiary purpose may have been to
conciliate Herod, with whom, history says, he had had a quarrel. The
cause of the trouble between them is not known. Many believe that the
murder of the Galileans while sacrificing in the Temple was the origin
of the unpleasantness. Others contend that this occurrence was the
result and not the cause of the quarrel between Pilate and Herod. Still
others believe that the question of the occupancy of the magnificent
palace of Herod engendered ill feeling between the rival potentates.
Herod had all the love of gorgeous architecture and luxurious living
that characterized the whole Herodian family. And, besides, he doubtless
felt that he should be permitted to occupy the palace of his ancestors
on the occasion of his visits to Jerusalem. But Pilate would naturally
object to this, as he was the representative of almighty Rome in a
conquered province and could not afford to give way, in a matter of
palatial residence, to a petty local prince. But, whatever the cause,
the unfriendliness between them undoubtedly had much to do with the
transfer of Jesus from the Prætorium to the palace of the Maccabees.
"And when Herod saw Jesus, he was exceeding glad: for he was desirous to
see him for a long season, because he had heard many things of him; and
he hoped to have seen some miracle done by him."[88]
This passage of Scripture throws much light upon Herod's opinion and
estimate of Jesus. Fearing that he was the successor and imitator of
Judas the Gaulonite, Herod at first sought to drive Him from his
province by sending spies to warn Him to flee. The courageous and
contemptuous reply of Jesus, in which he styled Herod "that fox," put an
end to further attempts at intimidation.
The notions of the Galilean Tetrarch concerning the Galilean Prophet
seem to have changed from time to time. Herod had once regarded Jesus
with feelings of superstitious dread and awe, as the risen Baptist. But
these apprehensions had now partially passed away, and he had come to
look upon the Christ as a clever impostor whose claims to kingship and
Messiahship were mere vulgar dreams. For three years, Galilee had been
ringing with the fame of the Miracle-worker; but Herod had never seen
his famous subject. Now was his chance. And he anticipated a rare
occasion of magic and merriment. He doubtless regarded Jesus as a clever
magician whose performance would make a rich and racy programme for an
hour's amusement of his court. This was no doubt his dominant feeling
regarding the Nazarene. But it is nevertheless very probable that his
Idumæan cowardice and superstition still conjured images of a drunken
debauch, the dance of death, and the bloody head; and connected them
with the strange man now before him.
No doubt he felt highly pleased and gratified to have Jesus sent to him.
The petty and obsequious vassal king was caught in Pilate's snare of
flattery. The sending of a noted prisoner to his judgment seat by a
Roman procurator was no ordinary compliment. But Herod was at once too
serious and too frivolous to assume jurisdiction of any charges against
this prisoner, who had offended both the religious and secular powers of
Palestine. To condemn Jesus would be to incur the ill will and
resentment of his many followers in his own province of Galilee.
Besides, he had already suffered keenly from dread and apprehension,
caused by the association of the names of John and Jesus, and he had
learned that from the blood of one murdered prophet would spring the
message and mission of another still more powerful and majestic. He was,
therefore, unwilling to embroil himself and his dominions with the
heavenly powers by condemning their earthly representatives.
Again, though weak, crafty and vacillating, he still had enough of the
cunning of the fox not to wish to excite the enmity of Cæsar by a false
judgment upon a noted character whose devoted followers might, at any
moment, send an embassy to Rome to make serious and successful charges
to the Emperor. He afterwards lost his place as Tetrarch through the
suspicions of Caligula, who received news from Galilee that Herod was
conspiring against him.[89] The premonitions of that unhappy day
probably now filled the mind of the Idumæan.
On the other hand, Herod was too frivolous to conduct from beginning to
end a solemn judicial proceeding. He evidently intended to ignore the
pretensions of Jesus, and to convert the occasion of His coming into a
festive hour in which languor and drowsiness would be banished from his
court. He had heard much of the miracles of the prisoner in his
presence. Rumor had wafted to his ears strange accounts of marvelous
feats. One messenger had brought news that the Prophet of Nazareth had
raised from the dead a man named Lazarus from Bethany, and also the son
of the widow of Nain. Another had declared that the laws of nature
suspended themselves on occasion at His behest; that when He walked out
on the sea, He did not sink; and that He stilled the tempests with a
mere motion of His hand. Still another reported that the mighty magician
could take mud from the pool and restore sight; that a woman, ill for
many months, need only touch the hem of His garment to be made whole
again; and that if He but touched the flesh of a leper, it would become
as tender and beautiful as that of a new-born babe. These reports had
doubtless been received by Herod with sneers and mocking. But he
gathered from them that Jesus was a clever juggler whose powers of
entertainment were very fine; and this was sufficient for him and his
court.
"Then he questioned with him in many words; but he answered him
nothing."[90]
Herod thus opened the examination of Jesus by interrogating Him at
length. The Master treated his insolent questions with contemptuous
scorn and withering silence. No doubt this conduct of the lowly Nazarene
greatly surprised and nettled the supercilious Idumæan. He had imagined
that Jesus would be delighted to give an exhibition of His skill amidst
royal surroundings. He could not conceive that a peasant would observe
the contempt of silence in the presence of a prince. He found it
difficult, therefore, to explain this silence. He probably mistook it
for stupidity, and construed it to mean that the pretensions of Jesus
were fraudulent. He doubtless believed that his captive would not work a
miracle because He could not; and that in His failure to do so were
exploded His claims to kingship and Messiahship. At all events, he was
evidently deeply perplexed; and this perplexity of the Tetrarch, in its
turn, only served to anger the accusing priests who stood by.
"And the chief priests and scribes stood and vehemently accused
him."[91]
This verse from St. Luke clearly reveals the difference in the temper
and purposes of the Sanhedrists on the one hand, and of Herod on the
other. The latter merely intended to make of the case of Jesus a
farcical proceeding in which the jugglery of the prisoner would break
the monotony of a day and banish all care during an idle hour. The
priests, on the other hand, were desperately bent upon a serious outcome
of the affair, as the words "vehemently accused" suggest. In the face of
their repeated accusations, Jesus continued to maintain a noble and
majestic silence.
Modern criticism has sought to analyze and to explain the behavior of
Christ at the court of Herod. "How comes it," asks Strauss, "that Jesus,
not only the Jesus without sin of the orthodox school, but also the
Jesus who bowed to the constituted authorities, who says 'Give unto
Cæsar that which is Cæsar's'--how comes it that he refuses the answer
due to Herod?" The trouble with this question is that it falsely assumes
that there was an "answer due to Herod." In the first place, it must be
considered that Herod was not Cæsar. In the next place, we must remember
that St. Luke, the sole Evangelist who records the event, does not
explain the character of the questions asked by Herod. Strauss himself
says that they "displayed simple curiosity." Admitting that Jesus
acknowledged the jurisdiction of Herod, was He compelled to answer
irrelevant and impertinent questions? We do not know what these
questions were. But we have reason to believe that, coming from Herod,
they were not such as Jesus was called upon to answer. It is very
probable that the prisoner knew His legal rights; and that He did not
believe that Herod, sitting at Jerusalem, a place without his province,
was judicially empowered to examine Him. If He was not legally compelled
to answer, we are not surprised that Jesus refused to do so as a matter
of graciousness and accommodation; for we must not forget that the
Man-God felt that He was being questioned by a vulgar animal of the most
cunning type.
But what is certain from the Scriptural context is that Herod felt
chagrined and mortified at his failure to evoke from Jesus any response.
He was enraged that his plans had been foiled by one of his own
subjects, a simple Galilean peasant. To show his resentment, he then
resorted to mockery and abuse.
"And Herod with his men of war set him at nought, and mocked him, and
arrayed him in a gorgeous robe, and sent him again to Pilate."[92]
We are not informed by St. Luke what special charge the priests brought
against Jesus at the judgment seat of Herod. He simply says that they
"stood and vehemently accused him." But we are justified in inferring
that they repeated substantially the same accusations which had been
made before Pilate, that He had claimed to be Christ a King. This
conclusion best explains the mockery which they sought to heap upon Him;
for in ancient times, when men became candidates for office, they put on
white gowns to notify the people of their candidacy. Again, Tacitus
assures us that white garments were the peculiar dress of illustrious
persons; and that the tribunes and consuls wore them when marching
before the eagles of the legions into battle.[93]
The meaning of the mockery of Herod was simply this: Behold O Pilate,
the illustrious candidate for the kingship of the Jews! Behold the
imperial gown of the royal peasant pretender!
The appearance before Herod resulted only in the humiliation of Jesus
and the reconciliation of Pilate and Herod.
"And the same day Pilate and Herod were made friends together: for
before they were at enmity between themselves."[94]
CHAPTER X
JESUS AGAIN BEFORE PILATE
The sending of Jesus to Herod had not ended the case; and Pilate was
undoubtedly very bitterly disappointed. He had hoped that the Galilean
Tetrarch would assume complete jurisdiction and dispose finally of the
matter. On the contrary, Herod simply mocked and brutalized the prisoner
and had him sent back to Pilate. The Roman construed the action of the
Idumæan to mean an acquittal, and he so stated to the Jews.
"And Pilate, when he had called together the chief priests and the
rulers and the people, Said unto them, Ye have brought this man unto me,
as one that perverteth the people: and, behold, I, having examined him
before you, have found no fault in this man touching those things
whereof ye accuse him: No, nor yet Herod: for I sent you to him; and,
lo, nothing worthy of death is done unto him. I will therefore chastise
him, and release him."[95]
The proposal to scourge the prisoner was the second of those criminal
and cowardly subterfuges through which Pilate sought at once to satisfy
his conscience and the demands of the mob. The chastisement was to be a
sop to the rage of the rabble, a sort of salve to the wounded pride of
the priests who were disappointed that no sentence of death had been
imposed. The release was intended as a tribute to justice, as a soothing
balm and an atoning sacrifice to his own outraged sense of justice. The
injustice of this monstrous proposal was not merely contemptible, it was
execrable. If Jesus was guilty, He should have been punished; if
innocent, he should have been set free and protected from the assaults
of the Jews.
The offer of scourging first and then the release of the prisoner was
indignantly rejected by the rabble. In his desperation, Pilate thought
of another loophole of escape.
The Evangelists tell us that it was a custom upon Passover day to
release to the people any single prisoner that they desired. St. Luke
asserts that the governor was under an obligation to do so.[96] Whether
this custom was of Roman or Hebrew origin is not certainly known. Many
New Testament interpreters have seen in the custom a symbol of the
liberty and deliverance realized by Israel in its passage from Egypt at
the time of the first great Passover. Others have traced this custom to
the Roman practice of releasing a slave at the Lectisternia, or banquets
to the gods.[97] Aside from its origin, it is interesting as an
illustration of a universal principle in enlightened jurisprudence of
lodging somewhere, usually with the chief executive of a race or
nation, a power of pardon which serves as an extinction of the penal
sanction. This merciful principle is a pathetic acknowledgment of the
weakness and imperfection of all human schemes of justice.
Pilate resolved to escape from his confusion and embarrassment by
delivering Jesus to the people, who happened to appear in great numbers
at the very moment when Christ returned from Herod. The multitude had
come to demand the usual Passover deliverance of a prisoner. The arrival
of the crowd of disinterested strangers was inopportune for the priests
and elders who were clamoring for the life of the prisoner in their
midst. They marked with keen discernment the resolution of the governor
to release Jesus. They were equal to the emergency, and began to whisper
among the crowd that Barabbas should be asked.
"And they had then a notable prisoner, called Barabbas. Therefore when
they were gathered together, Pilate said unto them, Whom will ye that I
release unto you? Barabbas, or Jesus which is called Christ? For he knew
that for envy they had delivered him."[98]
Pilate believed that the newly arrived multitude would be free from the
envy of the priests, and that they would be satisfied with Jesus whom
they had, a few days before, welcomed into Jerusalem with shouts of joy.
When they demanded Barabbas, he still believed that if he offered them
the alternative choice of a robber and a prophet, they would choose the
latter.
"But the chief priests and elders persuaded the multitude that they
should ask Barabbas, and destroy Jesus. The governor answered and said
unto them, Whether of the twain will ye that I release unto you? They
said, Barabbas. Pilate saith unto them, What shall I do then with Jesus
which is called the Christ? They all say unto him, Let him be
crucified."[99]
"Barabbas, or Jesus which is called the Christ?" Such was the
alternative offered by a Roman governor to a Jewish mob. Barabbas was a
murderer and a robber. Jesus was the sinless Son of God. An erring race
wandering in the darkness of sin and perpetually tasting the bitterness
of life beneath the sun, preferred a criminal to a prophet. And to the
ghastliness of the choice was added a touch of the irony of fate. The
names of both the prisoners were in signification the same. Barabbas was
also called Jesus. And Jesus Barabbas meant Jesus the Son of the Father.
This frightful coincidence was so repugnant to the Gospel writers that
they are generally silent upon it. In this connection, Strauss remarks:
"According to one reading, the man's complete name was [Greek: hiêsous
barabbas], which fact is noted only because Olshausen considers it
noteworthy. Barabbas signifies 'son of the father,' and consequently
Olshausen exclaims: 'All that was essential to the Redeemer appears
ridiculous in the assassin!' and he deems applicable the verse: '_Ludit
in humanis divina potentia rebus._' We can see nothing in Olshausen's
remark but a _ludus humanæ impotentiæ_."[100]
Amidst the tumult provoked by the angry passions of the mob, a
messenger arrived from his wife bearing news that filled the soul of
Pilate with superstitious dread. Claudia had had a dream of strange and
ill-boding character.
"When he was set down on the judgment seat, his wife sent unto him,
saying, Have thou nothing to do with that just man: For I have suffered
many things this day in a dream because of him."[101]
This dream of Pilate's wife is nothing strange. Profane history mentions
many similar ones. Calpurnia, Cæsar's wife, forewarned him in a dream
not to go to the senate house; and the greatest of the Romans fell
beneath the daggers of Casca and Brutus, because he failed to heed the
admonition of his wife.
In the apocryphal report of Pilate to the emperor Tiberius of the facts
of the crucifixion, the words of warning sent by Claudia are given:
"Beware said she to me, beware and touch not that man, for he is holy.
Last night I saw him in a vision. He was walking on the waters. He was
flying on the wings of the winds. He spoke to the tempest and to the
fishes of the lake; all were obedient to him. Behold! the torrent in
Mount Kedron flows with blood, the statues of Cæsar are filled with the
filth of Gemoniæ, the columns of the Interium have given away and the
sun is veiled in mourning like a vestal in the tomb. O, Pilate, evil
awaits thee if thou wilt not listen to the prayer of thy wife. Dread the
curse of the Roman Senate, dread the powers of Cæsar."
This noble and lofty language, this tender and pathetic speech, may
appear strange to those who remember the hereditary stigma of the woman.
If this dream was sent from heaven, the recollection is forced upon us
that the medium of its communication was the illegitimate child of a
lewd woman. But then her character was probably not worse than that of
Mary Magdalene, who was very dear to the Master and has been canonized
not only by the church, but by the reverence of the world.
It is certain, however, that the dream of Claudia had no determining
effect upon the conduct of Pilate. Resolution and irresolution
alternately controlled him. Fear and superstition were uppermost in both
mind and heart. The Jews beheld with anxious and discerning glance the
manifestation of the deep anguish of his soul. They feared that the
governor was about to pronounce a final judgment of acquittal.
Exhibiting fierce faces and frenzied feelings, they moved closer to him
and exclaimed: "We have a law, and by our law he ought to die, because
he made himself the Son of God."[102]
Despairing of convicting Jesus on a political charge, they deliberately
revived a religious one, and presented to Pilate substantially the same
accusation upon which they had tried the prisoner before their own
tribunal.
"He made himself the Son of God!" These words filled Pilate's mind with
a strange and awful meaning. In the mythology and ancient annals of his
race, there were many legends of the sons of the gods who walked the
earth in human form and guise. They were thus indistinguishable from
mortal men. It was dangerous to meet them; for to offend them was to
provoke the wrath of the gods, their sires. These reflections, born of
superstition, now swept through Pilate's mind with terrific force; and
the cries of the mob, "He made himself the Son of God," called from out
the deep recesses of his memory the half-forgotten, half-remembered
stories of his childhood. Could not Jesus, reasoned Pilate, be the son
of the Hebrew Jehovah as Hercules was the son of Jupiter? Filled with
superstitious dread and trembling with emotion, Pilate called Jesus
inside the Temple a second time; and, looking with renewed awe and
wonder, asked: "Whence art thou?"[103] But Jesus answered him nothing.
Pilate came forth from the judgment hall a second time determined to
release the prisoner; but the Jews, marking his decision, began to cry
out: "Away with him, away with him, crucify him!"[104] Maddened by the
relentless importunity of the mob, Pilate replied scornfully and
mockingly:
"Shall I crucify your king?"
The cringing, hypocritical priests shouted back their answer:
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