 | Jesus of Nazareth |  |
SCENE VIII.
The Judgment Hall of Pilate. Pilate and Jesus alone.Pilate.
Speak. Tell me plainly—I love clear plain words—
What mean these people by their strange reports?
Art thou the King of the Jews?
Jesus.
Sayest thou this
Of thine own self, or comes the thought from others?
Pilate.
Waste not thy time in quibbling, time is precious:
Knowest thou not, friend, that with me lies the power
To crucify thee, or to set thee free?
Jesus.
Thou couldest have no power at all against me
Were not that power first given thee from above;
He therefore that delivered me to thee
Is the chief culprit, hath the greater sin.
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Am I a Jew? What is the affair to me?
I am sick of settling Jewish petty squabbles.
We have a hundred lordly gods at Rome,
Strong gods, fair goddesses,—thy race proclaims
Its vaunted worship of the eternal One,
And yet, by Hercules, it seems to me
Our muddle of gods gives, after all, less trouble
Than the Jews' matchless One! What thinkest thou?
Jesus.
The Father speaks not through our race alone:
He sends his sun to shine on every land.
Pilate.
Thou sayest this! Thy doctrine, so they said,
Was harsh, fanatical—Believest thou
In Rome and Rome's old gods?
Jesus.
Wherever man
With true heart worshippeth, he finds the Father.
Pilate.
What meanest thou? Who is this Father-God?
The Jove whose godship lightens upon Rome?
Jesus.
My Father's image no man's eyes have seen.
He dwelleth not in temples made with hands;
His shrine is 'mid the everlasting stars,
Or—in the heart that loves him.
Pilate.
I begin
To understand why thine own people hate thee.
Why, thou art half lucretian in thy creed!
Priests hate a liberal creed, and narrower priests
Than those who scowl and prowl and practise here
Ne'er cumbered earth. I find no fault in thee
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And in the Temple's courts—let that but cease,
There seems no further just cause to condemn thee.
But drop thy kingly title; that excites
The ravening jealousy of priests and scribes
And lashes them to madness.
Jesus.
I am king,
King of the Jews, but in no earthly sense.
If I were king in any earthly sense,
Then would my servants fight; now is my kingdom
Unseen, remote, unearthly.
Pilate.
Yet again
Thou speakest riddles.
Jesus.
For this cause I came—
To bear eternal witness to the truth.
He who is of the truth will hear my voice
And follow me.
Pilate.
Thou dreamer, what is truth?
(Voices outside).
Crucify him! Crucify him!
Pilate.
Hearest thou the voices of the curs who clamour
For thy heart's blood? And yet if any way—
Last night my wife in troubled slumber saw
Thy face; she gazing from Antonia's tower
Beheld that scuffle in the Temple's Court
When thou didst overturn their merchandise,—
She, knowing thee thus by sight, beheld thy face
Last night in sleep, and troublous was the dream.
Antonia's tower with thunderous crash downfell;
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Of eddying flame that stained the night blood-red;
Arms clashed on every side, and wild shouts rang;
Through this proud city's gates our soldiers stormed,—
Wading through gore, they entered the doomed city.
Then followed ravin, spoliage, murder, lust,
Such as a thousand cities have endured
Prostrate neath Roman soldiers' maddened hands,
This city never. Then through cloud on cloud
Of smoke and dust and blood the morning broke,
And thou, within the chariot of the sun
Sitting, didst gaze with icy calmness down
Saying, “Thus am I avenged on priests and people;
Thus hath their city fallen!” This was her dream.
(Voices outside).
Crucify him! Crucify him!
If thou let this man go, thou art not Cæsar's friend.
Whosoever maketh himself a king, speaketh against Cæsar.
Pilate.
Hast thou no other word to say?
Jesus.
Not one.
Pilate
(going to the window).
I wash my hands of it. See ye to this.
Voices.
On us, and on our race, his blood shall be;
On us, and on our children.
Pilate.
Be it so.
(He calls for the guard of SOLDIERS. They enter).
Take ye him forth—and let them have their will.
(Exeunt SOLDIERS, leading Jesus away to be crucified).
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(alone).
A mad strange matter—and that dream of hers?
There's something doubtless in his youthful face
That wins its way with women. Poor young Jew!
And yet not all a Jew; he spoke out bravely,
With heartfelt clear contempt for Jewish creeds.
For that they'll murder him: we Romans fight,
Quarrel and slay for love's sake, for a woman,
But these weird dark-eyed narrow-chested men
Fight for a God their eyes have never seen,
For his sake slay each other. Let them be!
(Exit Pilate).
| Jesus of Nazareth | |