PILATE. Who is beating on my doors and breaking them almost to splinters? Ho, there, snatch your bodies from sleep, get up. Work off the fears of yesterday that still remain. Haven't you yet slept off all your drunkenness?
SYRUS. The leaders of the Jews are waiting for you at the door.
PILATE. Didn't you invite them in?
SYRUS. They refuse to enter for fear of pollution. They say that they keep this day sacred to their God, for on it they hold the feast of the Passover. And they are dragging a prisoner with them.
PILATE. Jesus, I suppose. A troop was assigned to the job of arresting him. Now I must go outside quickly. Why are you here now so early in the morning, men of Judaea? What is the matter?
CHORUS. Pilate, Caesar gives you the right of both interrogating and punishing a man for his crimes. To you we bring this gallows-bird and we produce him as the accused in your court. Send him to his death and order him to be crucified. By this mortal kindness you will bind us all to you eternally, Pilate, and you will make us listen more to your word.
PILATE. Servants, take this man into the palace. With what crime do you charge him? What wrong has he done?
CHORUS. What wrong has he not done? Believe us, we should not bring him to you if he were innocent.
PILATE. Take the penalty then according to your Jewish law.
CHORUS. It is a sin for us to condemn anyone to death.
PILATE. You think it any less a sin to accuse a man before the governor than to condemn him? The sentence is influenced by the force of the accusation.
CHORUS. In your court you will be sending to his death a man by no means innocent but one who by his revolutionary opinions is cheating the people, falsifying the census and saying that taxes should not be paid to Caesar, who is everywhere claiming that he is king--the impudent impostor; he turns the people away from our law, nay, from the law of God. In this one crime the rest are included.
PILATE. This man, whom you accuse, I feel is most upright and as free as possible from crime. By one thing only he has me rather uneasy: how would a man, who it seems is not at all dishonest, dare to confess that he is a king--if he really does dare to say this. He does not prove it from his position, but surely his bearing and his well-bred and gentlemanly face prove that he is in some way royal and worthy of the purple; oh, how like the man he claims to be he is.
I will go to him and bring the case to that question. Now I want to get the taste of his own words. Ho there, Christ, come here and answer frankly. Are you, I ask you, king of the Jewish race?
CHRIST. Does this question come from you yourself? Or have others said it of me? If you, on your own, conjecture this, as one who has perhaps read our prophets, there is no need of further declaration from me, and without doubt I have given many signs of this already by my miracles. If you've heard it from others, you will not believe me alone, even though I have raised the faith of many.
PILATE. Do you think that I am a Jew and have so much leisure from business that I read your scriptures or listen to those who have read them? Why should I hate you, whom I have arrested and whom I may punish? Have not your own tribe and your priests accused you to me? As you hear, they ask that you be charged with claiming the kingship and the kingdom. Do you realize this? Do you challenge this charge? Christ, what have you done that they hate you so?
CHRIST. My kingdom, as perhaps you realize, Pilate, is not of such a kind that I seek to rule the whole world of land and sea or to overthrow it. There is not such violence in my heart nor such great pride and I have never claimed such heights of honour.
But if you do not believe me, I will give you authoritative proof. Judge all these conjectures from one viewpoint. If I had had such an ambition, I should have had with me generals who with their swords would have resisted the Jews, so that they would not have treated me as they wished. Certainly, Pilate, my kingdom is not of this kind.
PILATE. You are a king then?
CHRIST. That's very truly stated. I am indeed a king. I shall not deny, whatever happens, that I am he who has descended to be born in this world, in order to bear witness to the truth.
PILATE. He has wrapped the truth in obscurity, and sends out sound without sense, so that I do not sufficiently understand him. Why are you muttering? Besides, what is truth? But I am certainly going to quell their anger if I can.
Chief priests, I cannot wonder enough what great rage stirs your anger against this man, whom you are destroying, though he has committed no disgraceful crime; you are not investigating the case sufficiently or else you are condemning one who is only charged.
CHORUS. You say the prisoner is not being sufficiently investigated, even though he is stirring up the populace by his art, magic and eloquence? Through these qualities he will make way, unless you stop him quickly and suddenly crush his audacity, which will one day raise up such a fire, Pilate, that you will not be able to put it out, although you now think that you can put it out when you wish.
For the infection of evil creeps on day by day, as this has spread from Galilee, whence no good ever came directly to Jerusalem.
PILATE. From Galilee? He is a Galilean?
CHORUS. Yes.
PILATE. Then I shall not offer to be judge in this case. The whole inquiry belongs to his own King, Herod, by ancestral right, and this is not a case for my court. The nail must not be pressed upon a scar, and I am not going to stir Herod's hate against me. This refusal of mine will perhaps restore our friendship. As a judge he has the rule at least over the people of his own province.
CHORUS. He has it over foreigners, if, like this carpenter, they have fathered any crime. We shall willingly go to Herod.
CHORUS. Often grave wrongs can be redeemed by even a slight concession, especially if it is made at the right time.
HEROD. Nothing could happen to me today more timely or pleasing than the arrival of this fellow, both because Pilate has sent him (and till today I had thought Pilate was ill disposed towards me) and because I have arranged a feast for men of the highest rank, for whom this fellow will be more acceptable than all the wild beasts. But, meanwhile, it is my pleasure to enjoy the madness of this man who is, I hear, by far the most sprightly magician of all the magicians who are, were and shall be, so that they say he has changed water into the best wine than which not even Falernian is more pleasing. What is more, he raises the spirits from their abodes and at his pleasure sends those summoned back again to the pit; he orders souls to be restored to bodies, he can withdraw the moon from the sky and he can do all these marvels alone. Christ, I ask you, will you scorn my request? It should not weary you to per form a service for me, that through you it may be granted to me to gaze upon the faces of both my parents and that it may be granted I insist further that we hear real words and answer real words to each other. But if you refuse to do that, or (may it not be so) cannot do it, at least that you may be willing and able to do what even women have been able to do; to turn some of these people into pigs or, if you prefer, by being invisible like Gyges to evade the hands of these men who hate you so much. Or, if you like, produce the feast of the Passover.
Do something here as a specimen of your skill. Why do you refuse to speak? Am I to suffer defeat thus? Come on, speak, slave. You are more mute than a fish--bah--like a log. Take away this elegant king. Load him, soldiers, with royal garments rather than adorn him and see that he is returned to the governor and give thanks in my words for the fellow.
Come on, get up quickly,
King without a kingdom.
Ape always, ape, although you wear clothes of gold.
Your nature will never be changed even by a triple woven cloak. Why do you ask for yourself the crown of a king? Christ, you ought rather to be guyed with asses' ears and given a swift kick.
PILATE. If there is anything which is not settled in your mind, it follows you and haunts your steps--you will scarce explain it; but if anything pleases, the more you desire that thing, the more it eludes you. Hark, they are bringing him back to me again; I pick up the sound of their return and it's like a flock of clamouring cranes. I will go out to meet them.
CHORUS. Today, Pontius, we shall risk an experiment, so that our authority may be prized by you.
PILATE. It could not be more greatly prized. But something is being brought up to the public altar.
CHORUS. We demand the death penalty for this criminal, laden down as he is with wicked and excessive crimes.
PILATE. Has he been proved guilty or has he confessed to crime? What crime he has committed, I do not see, nor does Herod himself, though he is quite angry with the fellow and though he has verbally urged the harshest treatment. Certainly he repeatedly called him a sly fox. But even if the crowd is raging, it must not be listened to right away. In my opinion it is not right that any weight should be given to this uproar, which we have known for a good while is raised either by partiality or hate or as is usual by a desire for change. Never shall I break the safeguards of the law.
CHORUS. The people do not always err: nay, they say that the voice of the people is the voice of God. And your laws must not be preferred to our customs. And indeed we have the laws which they want and they demand that he die; so you should not hesitate, Pilate. This decision will bring you much thanks and good will, Pilate; through this, through this, I say, you will win gratitude, if you do not permit this man to use his vile trickery further.
PILATE. The argument you are bringing against the man, I see, by Hercules, is nothing except your desire to do him harm. You make very many accusations; you prove none of them. When you keep quiet over these proofs, you are privately admitting that there are no proofs. Please pardon me if I release the accused from the charge, for without doubt the justice of this case deserves it. Though I wish to gratify you, there is no occasion, or very little indeed, for condemning the man. You have a custom, kept for many years, whereby the Governor himself is wont to release one prisoner according to your wish. I suggest the man whom you are judging should win your vote.
To appease your anger we hand over this man to you.
CHORUS. Send him away. Give us rather Barrabas; we don't want this one.
PILATE. But what will become of Jesus, whose name is Christ?
CHORUS. What? Crucify him, crucify him, fix him on a high cross.
PILATE. How the mob rage in their stubborn hearts. But there is no stone I shall not move to free this man from death. So I will see to it that he is torn by the whips and the ropes and suffers the torturer's contempt, so that as far as possible he may satisfy their ferocity. It is better for him to pay the penalty with his skin than with his life. He is now in the worst possible situation.
SANGA. Come on, beat him vigorously; one for his back, one for his front, one for his legs. Now, Christ, you may melt with rods of heated bronze. Let this crown of twigs of rough thorn decorate your sad head. Hm. The blood is flowing out. Cut him more deeply, more deeply. All of you, I say. Sannio, why are you stopping?
SANNIO. You ask why I am stopping. Surely I can't pierce him more deeply. My strength fails me rather than my desire. Look, he is always itching for new wounds. Mind and hand grow strong for the punishment. Let their strength grow strong for the lashes.
CHORUS. The bones are uncovered and they lie visible on every side. The blood is flowing down everywhere. Look, all the ground grows wet and stained with his vile blood.
Is there any life in your body? You're not so weary of bearing these blows as we are of striking them. Oho, a dumb sheep. You don't complain? At last you're not even groaning? Our rage has not been satiated and has not ceased. Proceed now with anger, proceed: pull out his tongue, dig out his eye, crush his jaw, bruise his cheeks, pluck his beard that has grown larger by his blood. Let the heavens hear nothing except blows.
SANGA. Let each of us salute him with bended knee.
CHORUS. Hail our king.
SANGA. Hah. Now look at our handsome king, whom a rod cuts instead of a sceptre. Since you are thus king, you should decorate me according to my deserts, as my virtue demands.
SANNIO. I should want such a kingdom for my enemies rather than for myself.
PILATE. Look, I'll take him out now again to them. Go out, Christ, go out with the blood gushing from your weals and be shown conspicuously covering your many wounds with this purple and with your crown of thorns.
Look at him. As he gazes on these wounds who could refrain from tears? Oh, man, not even a sworn enemy ought to refuse him his life, too bereft of joy and more miserable than any death; look at the face fouled by spittal, his back burned by the rods, and especially his head crowned with thorns. Should his head be crowned, alas, with such cruel thorns? What barbarous madness or cruelty could be moved to pleasure by that sight? Who, I say, is so greedily thirsty for his blood whose thirst would not be satiated here? What anger is so insatiable that so many blows and so many wounds will not bring on satiety?
CHORUS. Pilate, this is not enough: you should crucify him on a high cross as he deserves.
PILATE. You by your authority condemn him to death. I will never commit such a wrong as to sentence him to death, whom I find guilty of no crime.
CHORUS. As if this is not enough reason and more than enough, that he impudently claims that he is the son of God. And so our divine law, our human law and our code of law bid that this man die. When he is accused of such accursed transgression, will you free him?
Pilate, in this business you ought to assume not only the role of a judge but the vigour of an avenger. By him, our God and the god shared by all men is dishonoured, and the dignity of your rule is lessened.
PILATE. Now the case of this man may be more difficult. Some new fear has suddenly come upon me, which almost turns me from my former opinion. I will nevertheless for the last time ask him the question again.
Speak openly to my question, Christ, I beseech you: Whence do you take your birth? You make no reply to me? Why are you now so silent? Do you not see that you are in danger? Where now is your common sense? What confidence to you have? Don't you know, don't you know, alas, Christ, that I have the right of life or death over you?
CHRIST. You would have no right over me, Pilate, unless the power had been handed over to you from heaven. From this place comes far more unjust treatment--from God, who with too little thought of himself and of me, has handed me over to you.
LUCIA. Go now, Dorus, more quickly than the wind and give my message to my husband. You hesitate to run?
DORUS. There shall be no more delay. I will go quickly. I wish night could last for ever, if anything to be eaten were given by the night. For as soon as day breaks, there is no hour of rest for me. Now the governor, now his wife in turn, bid me go and return hither and thither. And if there is any delay, forthwith her hand sticks to my cheek. Now no way lies open for me through the middle of this crowd; and my voice, drowned by such a noise, could not reach the ears of the great governor.
Give way, you circumcised, give way--unless you now make way, I'll make a path with this firebrand.
Your wife sends you greetings and asks and advises and, as far as honour, O greatest and blest Lord, as far as honour allows the privilege to a wife, commands that you venture to do nothing too harsh against this upright, innocent, honest man. For she says that, at that time of night when other mortals have rest, she has suffered from many dreams which strike in her terrible unhappiness. She wants you to be forewarned. Nevertheless, she has no worry about you or your justice or your honour.
PILATE. By Jupiter, is there nowhere any freedom? How many injustices must be borne and at the same time done by him, who wishes to stay in office. Just as the crowd fear him, so he must fear the crowd and make many concessions to it, which neither his wishes approve nor justice allows. I know that the death of an innocent man is being demanded. What should I do? I have known these Jews for a long time: unable to control their anger, stiff-necked, full of hate--they have suffered defeat, yet they do not know how to accept it. Now care must be taken lest, if I free Christ from their anger, I turn them to bringing death to me alone. They will destroy me by ill reports both of a province badly run and of crimes; they will impeach me to Tiberius and the Senate and will make me the accused. Besides the truth they will make up many false charges which can never be satisfactorily disproved or washed away. And just as confidence in a man is not held always by all, so these charges are never completely rooted out from the minds of those who hear them, but they survive like the scar of a wound. Nothing has ever kept me so disturbed.
What if I act thus? Nothing will happen. What if thus? Nothing more. But I will advise them against the death of Jesus and do nothing before I've spoken.
What can you do with men who have no respect for law or right? Blind with rage, do they approve of nothing except what they themselves want? Yet it is disgraceful for a man who has some name and fame to pass his life out of office and too free from care; but, if there is any disadvantage, I should certainly prefer it to be turned against him rather than against me. Nor, not to predict worse, does it please me to be reduced to the ranks now that I'm used to the robes and ceremonial of high office.
Indeed, he will leave no friends or relations and no wealth and no heirs to take vengeance for any injury. Nevertheless, I don't want him to lose any advantage because of me. I will try again. I will go again to them with advice and requests.
Listen, men of Judaea, I should not want you to stop your gentle ears to my words: but if you do not offer life to this man after so many cruel beatings and do not pity him, yet at least be won over by my words, be swayed by fair play, and your descendants will not one day suffer for these deeds.
For even if he deserves to pay this penalty, surely you are the ones who should feel it below you to insist on it. You would doubt less gain very rich spoils and a great and long-remembered name, if this fellow, who is no match for your hatred and likewise may be innocent, were now to be crucified?
CHORUS. You are putting off the time in vain; stop wishing to put it off. Do not prepare further delays; you are merely talking to the air. You will not satisfy us, unless you satisfy our claim.
PILATE. But what pleasure, what profit will there be from sending to his death this man who can do much less harm alive then dead? He does not deserve death, even if he is not to be crucified.
CHORUS. This criminal must be crucified, Pilate. If you send him away a free man, then you must also send away Caesar. No kingdom is so ignorant of shared rule as to take two masters. When might that fellow not offer himself again and again as King? What could be more opposed to Caesar than this? We gladly take Caesar as our monarch; his love and honour should certainly be put before that of one miserable and very great impostor, who has no one who can repay a kindness if you confer it and if you do a wrong to him no one to avenge it. How can a wrong ever be done to him who has power over all things human and divine? Why are we bringing charges against him with hostility? What sides, what voice, what strength will now stand up to the complaints about his monstrous crimes? For what ears, even the most patient, could now tolerate them? Who is not totally horrified in reviewing what that most criminal of human beings has dared to do?
Look how you brand yourself by this action. For he who is able to punish crime and does not is on the side of crime. Are you going to call the defendant to a new trial? Or, if it pleases the gods, will you take the accused away and free one who has been condemned by the people's vote, which is also judged to be the voice of God? Are we defeated to turn from our purpose?
PILATE. Any wrong must be punished without anger; guilt left unpunished breeds further guilt. But anger always brings wild regret. It is better to free the guilty than to allow an innocent man to suffer a wrong decision. Such an innocent man I think Christ is, and I think correctly and repeat my view. No weariness ought to be produced, if I ask that an innocent man, proved good in all things--in all things so many times--should be freed, since he has suffered from your hatred enough and more than enough. Will you let hatred for the prisoner wipe out the glory of your clemency which may be approved by all?
I beseech you, men of Judaea, do not set your hearts on an unjust decision but let truth prevail over anger.
CHORUS. Nay, rather let justice prevail over bias, Pontius. Surely the judges give their decisions only when facts have been proved? No penalty which pleases God and placates him must ever be called cruelty. Who would spare one so soaked in crime? Many, many charges, Pilate, we have omitted, since they are either too incredible or too foul.
PILATE. What reason there could be for freeing this man has been declared. I have left nothing untried. To the last moment we have tried courses worthy and unworthy. I shall be praised for using all the power vested in me. As far as it was lawful I guarded the innocence of this man; bear witness, I engaged myself in every way to save him. What should I do? I am against my will forced to give sentence but, by Hercules, not the sentence of my heart. I therefore climb this throne covered with many coloured stones but, men of Judaea, I bear witness to the innocence of both of us--mine and his, because I in no way agree with the punishment of this man who, if any one is, is a very good man. (May this case not be used to injure me or turned to my detriment.)
CHORUS. By our religion we absolve you, Pilate. Put away this fear from your heart; let the suffering fall on us. We will pay for the crime if it has to be paid for and not only we ourselves but our descendants who shall come after us. We accept the guilt of this for all our race.
PILATE. Servants, bring water for my hands. Hurry. As this water washes away the dirt from my hands, so let it prove that I have no share in the blood and death of this innocent man. Go, Lictor. Collect your men. Take Christ hence and on a high cross out side the city crucify him. On the top of the cross put this reason: "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews."
CHORUS. Do not write that he is king but that he claims he is king.
PILATE. What we have written, we have written. It will be right for me to have thought it.
MARY. Alas, who is this coming through the crowd with two thieves one on each side? Surely it is not my son. Yes, it is. His face shows that he is my son. Alas, my unlucky son. Could I have expected such grief?
Is this the pledge which once promised me a son who should hold the world under his dominion and should match his fame with heaven? Are you, God, restoring us to this kingdom? O you cruel Jews, who have dared to commit such a monstrous crime, dragging to his death my son, whose face has been so cruelly lacerated. O cruel me, his mother, who can see the many wounds which you have inflicted on my son. Don't stop me from coming near him. Let me give him kisses, nay, let me hold up his cross and support it with my shoulders. Take your punishment from me. Let him go. Free him from his bonds. Why are you hurrying him on so fast?
Don't hurry, my son, don't take yourself from my sight. Allow me to speak to you for the last time and, son, do not look away from your poor mother. Best son, at least look at your mother. Father, can you see this with steady eyes? Did you wish me to survive for such great pain, shame and dishonour? What men or God am I not to blame? Alas, what am I to do? Whither shall I turn? What land, what seas would accept Mary, bereft of her son, her only son, a man better and more powerful than all others? My only son, a loss of only one son in number but such an one who, if he survived, would be the one to satisfy completely his mother, my son who was of such very good omen. If there still remains any pity for a mother and it touches mortal hearts, give up this purpose, men of Judaea, cease heaping wounds on wounds, cease from the lashes by which you have long been burdening one already burdened.
But I achieve nothing by my words; anger makes no ending nor does madness grow gentle; you drive him on more sharply and hurry him as he goes. I will follow after him with uneven steps, if only my heart does not refuse to watch the hard death of my son.
CHORUS. Who is so much from the race of half-blind men and wears a heart so stony as to refrain from tears and to bear the sight of this as he looks at it? This man, though he has suffered so many wounds before this, is now being dragged to the cross, this man, if he is to be called man, than whom no mortal is more beautiful, nor has any of the Jewish race ever been more innocent nor more just. He who did good to everyone is now led away with the wicked and goes in the middle of robbers. For him there is no delay and no rest.
CHRIST. I do not think there is any reason why you should mourn for me or for my case, children of Jerusalem. Rather keep this grief of yours for your own misfortune; for the days will come, will surely come, I speak with foreknowledge, when it will be sad to have carried a child in the womb, and very many women will refuse to be mothers and shall be called blessed if they are sterile and have not offered their breasts to the lips of infants to suck. Then if there are reported to be anywhere rocks hollowed out, you shall search for them, and you shall ask in all your prayers to be covered by the mountains and the hills and that the earth may gape open for you. If in green wood which still bears the best fruit, the fire has blazed, what, I ask you, do you think the fire will be like here after in dry and useless wood?
SANNIO. Has such strength returned to your heart, though you've been vanquished, that you make harsh threats? I will increase your pace with this firebrand. Oho, villain, are you standing still? With these blows I will make your head all one bump.
Look out now. He has fallen and can't carry the weight. Simon, Put your shoulder to this load.
SIMON. I? Shall I get under a load so heavy that two men would scarcely be enough to carry it?
SANNIO. By God, you will help if you wish to avoid punishment. Come here, now; lift there. You're resisting? Take this fist, then.
SIMON. That's violence. That hurts.
SANNIO. Am I still hearing about this business? Come quickly.
SIMON. The law is unavoidable that the weak are forced to submit to the stronger.
SANNIO. Shut up. How these half-rotted corpses irritate my nose!
Come on, now, you villain, put the cross down on the ground, so that as you carried it, now it may in its turn carry you. I've just mixed a cup of bitter myrrh. Drain it quickly. You throw it away. Ha ha, it's not to your taste. Are you looking for some of that very smooth wine that I drink and to which you are accustomed? Brumax, roll him forward as far as you can onto the cross.
BRUMAX. Look, as though he's quite willing, of his own accord he's laying himself on the cross and stretching out his arms. I'll nail the left hand with this nail and you nail the right hand with that one, Sannio.
SANNIO. It's too blunt to be able to be driven in.
BRUMAX. It's better than this. It will make a wider wound. Nail him up high.
SANNIO. I can't get him higher.
BRUMAX. I'm nailing both his feet to this oak beam with these spikes.
SANDALIO. Up to now I've had a heart that could not be satiated with tortures; but this one satiates my heart and takes away my appetite.
BRUMAX. My appetite grows bigger and sprouts every hour; each bit of cruelty breeds another.
SANNIO. On this hill dig out a trench where this kind of cross may be put.
BRUMAX. As good as done. It shall be put here. Hem, this dry soil has grown hard like rock in its place and now it can't be sufficiently tamed by the spade for this cross. However, it shall be tamed by my strength. But tell me, Sannio, have you heard that Adam, from whom all mortals are descended, fleeing from his home for an atrocious crime, after a long series of dangers found this land and stayed his steps in this place, and when he died was buried in this soil? I heard the story a long time ago.
SANNIO. I've heard that there was such a story, but this report is rejected as being unfounded.
BRUMAX. I, Brumax, whom by God the augurs have taught, foretell that on this spot or very near it one day shall be placed the statue of Great Jove.
SANNIO. With the sanctuary of the Capitol at Rome no doubt being scorned. You know the omens very well, smart head.
BRUMAX. I would add more, if you were to force me to reveal further the mysteries of fate.
SANNIO. Do be courageous and tell us.
BRUMAX. In this trench there shall be set up also the image of Venus.
SANNIO. Attracted of course by the charm of the place. Now shut up. You wear me out with your talk, not so much because you vomit forth such ridiculous prophecies as because you assert them so seriously that you do not realize that you are telling lies. Put down the spade. The trench is now deep enough.
BRUMAX. It is. Away you go, spade.
SANNIO. Ouch. You've hit me on the foot with it. May all the gods and goddesses destroy you horribly and quickly.
BRUMAX. Ask them rather than I should be allowed to survive as long as possible; it's not to your advantage that I should die now. For you who are wicked now will be the wickedest when I am dead.
SANDALIO. Why do you cause delay by such trifles? Come on. Quickly, all together, heave. All together under the weight. Hurry, Sannio. Step aside and stand on the end, heave. Lift the cross again with all your strength. Get out, you dolt. You've allowed the cross to fall on its face.
SANNIO. I did it intentionally and deliberately that all his bones might be broken together.
SANDALIO. You're the father of torturers and, if anyone is, you're the industrious craftsman. Lift again. Move the beam itself to the edge of the trench. All together. Heave. Take care lest it comes falling down and massacre us. Now come on. Put your shoulders to it diligently. Ah. It's up. It's standing up straight into the air. I'll climb the ladder myself to put on the top of the cross this fellow's crime, which Pontius has set forth in Hebrew, Latin and Greek letters. All now run your eyes over this; if it is not properly fixed up, the raging wind will carry it away.
These words about Christ are the only honours left to him. Now let us sit down and watch him hanging.
SANNIO. No, let's divide up the clothes as usual. Give me the sword, Brumax, so that I may cut them off quickly.
BRUMAX. Here's the sword and here's my hand for my share. Cut away.
SANNIO. This sleeve shall be yours, Brumax. The other shall go to you, Sangax; you shall have this part, Sandalio, and I'll keep the fourth part for myself: all things must be equal.
BRUMAX. The cloak is still not cut up for us.
SANNIO. Let's not tear it up, I ask you; it will be no use to anyone after that, but, Sangax, let us rather throw the dice or put lots into a helmet for it. He whose lot come out first shall have it for himself and keep it whole.
CHORUS. Agreed.
BRUMAX. Throw your names into the helmet.
CHORUS. We're throwing in our names; you, Brumax, shake and move the helmet. You, sirrah, put your hand in--no cheating now. Hurry up. Whose name have you drawn first?
SANNIO. I don't know. See for yourselves.
CHORUS. Here you are, Sandalio; it's yours.
SANDALIO. Then it's mine alone.
CHORUS. Agreed. It's yours.
TOURISTS. Come on: on our way let's have a look at the king who is on the cross. It's our pleasure to wait still, so that he whom others have already hung on the cross, we may also scorn with our noses, our heads and our words. But look. He's hanging between two malefactors. How well he matches them. Just like the cuttle fish which they say takes the perch along as its companion. Bah, you are the one who would raze the temple to the ground and destroy it from its lowest foundations and in three days would build it and put on the roof. Well, then. Undo yourself from this cross and deliver yourself from this pain. Strike off these hooks and go back to Heaven.
CHIEF PRIESTS. He who brought salvation to others lacks it for himself. If he is the son of God and the promised Messiah who is to rule Israel, let him release himself from this situation and free himself from this tough oak; then he would capture the world. After that there would be nothing we should not believe of him, and of our own accord we should hail him as our leader. He has always claimed publicly that he took his stand by the spirit of God and that he was the son of God. If God wants him, forsooth, let him now free him.
ROBBER ON LEFT. If you are a God, show your power. Now you should get ready to show your power in the extreme of death. Free yourself and us from this peril. Snatch us from immediate death. Bah to you, you lovely god.
ROBBER ON RIGHT. You act in keeping with your character, for you've revelled in crime and deserve ten crosses. For what purpose, you wretched creature, for what purpose will you insult this man? You are suffering the same punishment as he is but not, by God, for the same reason. For you deservedly pay the penalty. But this man, whom you mock thus, I think is a most just man and as free as possible from crime. Not his crime but his virtue has ruined him. I think that he is God and, oh, a true God. To him as a suppliant I pray and ask with all my wishes and prayers, that he should allow himself to be persuaded that, when he has ascended into Heaven, he should remember me and should not exact punishment, but that his power should turn punishment away from one who deserved it for his sins.
CHRIST. Very well. Today, free from care, you shall mount to Heaven with me, doubt it not; and I will confirm my divine power.
CHORUS. By your faith in God, are you preparing perpetual night for the world (for neither day nor night can be discerned in the sky)? For because such a large cloud has encompassed the whole sky, the sun has hidden his head under a dusky colour nor do any constellations or even stars shine, and contrary to the order of established things, darkness has covered all parts of the world for more or less three hours. What end can there be to this event? But let us listen to something the criminal is saying to himself (let us listen, for the winds distort all his words).
CHRIST. Eloi Eloi lamabatani.
CHORUS. He calls on Elias: let him call and let us see if at last Elias will bring help or aid to the poor fellow and will free him from the nails of the cross.
CHRIST. I thirst.
CHORUS. You are thirsty? I have something to quench your thirst immediately. Here I give you a drink on this stick--a sponge full of bitter gall. Drink it up. You refuse it?
CHRIST. Alas, I am distracted by grief. Why, again and again, my God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?
O, you who make your way here, all of you, look and consider if there is any pain equal to my pain; who ever endured so many blows or so many wounds, so many insults and so many injuries from those who--and this is very hard to bear--from those who ought to have cherished me most? But, Father, forgive them, for, blind with rage, they know not what they do. They bid me descend from the cross on the advice of the wicked devil, who knows that he is being conquered by this cross, though they have refused to believe so many of the earlier miracles.
Oh, second cause of my grief, Mother most pure. That you may not be left entirely deserted by me, John shall adopt you as his mother.
You, most beloved of all, let me win this hope of you: receive her with all your heart. Help her in sadness and in need. No little thanks for such a deed will await you, for you shall have me as a brother, I promise it, if she shall be your mother.
Now all the oracles foretold about me are revealed and shall be concluded with their proper end. I give up my life willingly. Death, why do you delay? Why are you afraid to attack me suddenly as I call on you in my loudest voice?
King of men and of gods, my Father, let my holy spirit, entirely free from sin, ascend from this place to you; into your hands I shall commend my spirit. May you be good to me.
What a shameful disgrace! What a crime, more than a crime: by such a wicked judgement to have sent to such a foul death an innocent man. Hm. The terrified earth is groaning under our feet, and vomits spirits from their tombs. For whom? For whom is it right that all these rites are being provided unless it is for the supreme ruler of things? This would certainly not have been allowed for any mortal. What sort of portents are we facing? The spirits of the dead are wandering in all directions. This is not the dream of an unprofitable sleep: we see them face to face before our eyes: and through the darkness is heard a voice of great sadness saying: "Leave, citizens, leave these abodes." And do we still hesitate to accept as the son of the highest God him whom the earth and the stars receive and to whom they bear witness and complain of his death? Shall we not beat our breasts with our hands? Shall we not tear our faces and our features with our nails? Shall we refuse to put our faith in these events which have been so clearly proved?
MAGDALENE. Now come, fix a second cross here, since one cross will not carry two. Hang me from the second one near him, so that if his last breath is still to come I may garner it with my lips: so that I may see in this light his face, never before seen enough. Take my heart to thee, kind Jesus: take it to thee thus panting that it can no further bear to be shut up in my breast. For it leaps to thee from this body of mine with very frequent sobs and tears and breaks my sides. O you fierce guards, be kind to me in this one thing, allow me, raised on a post, to enjoy that just man, as far as it shall be lawful and as long as his life allows it.
Fasten my hands to his hands and my face to his face and my lips to his lips. His blood shall not prevent me from embracing him. If you think me unfit, make me fit. Make our limbs match with ropes. Woe is me! Woe is me! Bind me in a Procrustean fit. I don't care how I shall enjoy him. Nothing sad can touch me provided I can touch him, if divine law does not forbid me to be taken to him. Does divine law indeed forbid the guilty to be with the innocent, the fault-covered with the faultless, the slave with her master, me so wicked with him so good, me a woman--alas how feminine--?
O what a simpleton I am that I should compare myself with the ruler of Heaven and earth! With what madness am I now raging? Who allows me to be so foolish? To hope for what neither angels nor any of the celestial beings can hope without the greatest awe.
Let it be enough and more than enough for me that I may embrace this cross, which alone can comfort me so much in my grief among many deserved pains and evils. From it I shall not be torn until your spirit is overcome and departs from you and mine departs from me. If you permit to happen what I want more than anything, my spirit will follow you with even pace wherever you go--whether you go to Heaven or to fight hell.
JOSEPH. By nothing do you so influence the minds of men as if, when their help is not necessary, you win them over beforehand by some kindness, pay your respects to them, give them presents, or in some other way prepare them. Then, if ever need arises, you will find them prepared by their former treatment and more ready to help than if, when the situation is urgent, you then begin to prepare them with a large gift. But if I have ever found this to be true at other times, it is especially true now. For very often before this I have obliged the Governor with the easily digestible fruits of our gardens and with unbought gifts, so that now it has been most easy to ask successfully from him that, according to our custom, I should be allowed to bury the body of this prophet. But I see Nicodemus coming along at just the right time. Come here, please.
NICODEMUS. I cannot. Sorry. My business calls me elsewhere.
JOSEPH. Where, pray?
NICODEMUS. I shan't say.
JOSEPH. As if you've ever known me untrustworthy.
NICODEMUS. By God, it's not that: but when there is danger to life, no one can be safely trusted.
JOSEPH. I can. I even guess what the secret is. You are certainly a follower of Jesus.
NICODEMUS. Yes.
JOSEPH. And I, never fear, have so far hidden the fact that I am one of his followers for fear of my countrymen, since I have for a long time seen enough of their hatred towards him. But my love does not allow me not to go to prepare burial rites for him. Indeed, for this I have recently purchased this shroud.
NICODEMUS. I have also provided myrrh and spices. Let us go, then.
JOSEPH. Right.
NICODEMUS. Go ahead. I will follow.
JOSEPH. All right, since I have a letter, which I shall show to the centurion in charge of the guard. But fortunately, here is the centurion. Do you recognize the signature?
CENTURION. Why shouldn't I recognize it? It is that of our governor.
JOSEPH. Read it, please.
CENTURION. That's necessary when he gives orders.
JOSEPH. He orders that the body of the prophet there be handed over to me.
CENTURION. Those are his orders. By God, it is the body of a most just man.
JOSEPH. Will you give me the opportunity of burying it?
CENTURION. I do that willingly, as I have a premonition that he is very truly the son of the highest God. He did not leave it ambiguous or give room for doubt. When his spirit went to Heaven, such a shout was raised that the whole earth groaned in fear and the heavens shuddered in darkness. To him all things offer homage when they mourn for him thus. While we were breaking the legs of the others, he had already died and sent out his spirit. Then one of the soldiers pierced his side with his sword and drove it through his ribs and ruptured his chest--the villain: then, then, wonderful to relate, from the wound itself flowed blood and water.
But now let's gird ourselves for the task by using these ladders, which are standing firm. You climb to the left and I'll take the right. But now, Nicodemus, reach towards the body; get under it, I say; take care lest it slip to the ground.
NICODEMUS. It's being done carefully; let it fall gradually into my arms, lest the weight knock me down; let it fall, let it come, I've got it enough. The weight won't weigh me down: the body is down on the ground. You oil the head gouged by the harsh thorn; oil the breast and the arms and the hands, Joseph. I will soak the rest of the body with this ointment and with perfumes emptied from these capacious shells.
JOSEPH. Come, let us roll up the body itself in the shrouds--both yours and mine.
NICODEMUS. Agreed. But, listen, Joseph, I have built a new tomb in my garden, which is very near, which I have hewn out of the living rock for myself and my friends. So far no one has been placed in it. I vote that he should be carried there.
JOSEPH. Right, let us take him to that resting place. Men, lend a hand here. Lay it down here and let us say, "Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye."
NICODEMUS. Let's first protect the tomb with this bolt and next let's roll up this boulder against the opening.
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