The centurion; a romance of the time of the Messiah ...

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Part I Letters I

GALILEE

CAIUS OPPIUS TO TULLIUS

F or more than ten months, I have commanded the little garrison of Magdala in Galilee and, without forgetting either Rome or my dear friend Tullius, I begin to find this far away country, which had at first appeared one of exile, both interesting and agreeable.

We occupy a fortress built upon a rocky cliff, on the border of a very beautiful lake which the Galileans call the Sea of Genezareth. At the foot of the fortress lies a little village which slopes down towards the lake. On the neighboring heights are terraced orange trees and vineyards, together with several villas belonging to rich Jews and Greek merchants. Along the strand lie the barques of the fishermen. They are beautiful when in the morning they take their flight to I the high seas and again towards evening, when with tired wings, like great wounded birds, they come home to the nest.

The society of Magdala is not numerous but sufficiently choice. None of their customs are too austere. The pleasures of Rome are lacking, obviously, and it is always with a sigh that we recall the Forum, the Field of Mars, the Baths, the Theatres and the Circus. But the pleasures of our over-refined civilization had absorbed me too much, so here I am happy to regain possession of myself. In this Oriental atmosphere, which the breath of the desert renews unceasingly, I once more become free. This country and this people interest me strangely in other respects. They are much older than Rome, and, notwithstanding this, I find them very much younger.

Civilization has aged us before our time. We have had barely seven or eight centuries of existence, while the Jewish people have had twice as many. In spite of this, their faith, their beliefs, are still vigorous, whilst our own are flickering and will soon die out.

Here the population seems gifted with eternal youth, like the nature which surrounds it. Why should it become old? Its inland sea, its sky, its mountains, its forest, its sacred stream the Jordan, remain always unchanged, and, above all, it has been able to retain, together with the candor, the naivete, and the illusions of childhood, the invincible hope of a great future.

What has been happening here for more than a year is proof of it. One hears on all sides of nothing but preaching and prophecies concerning a Messiah

GALILEE expected for centuries, who shall at last come to deliver His people and to re-establish the kingdom of Israel.

Since my arrival, I have heard that a great prophet whose name is John has been teaching multitudes in the desert and baptizing them in the waters of the Jordan. And now they boast another prophet, greater than the first, who preaches in the synagogues, who cures the sick and the infirm, who gives sight to the blind and speech to the dumb.

While waiting to inform myself more fully upon these events which move the crowd so singularly, I admire the beauties and attractions of this sunlit country. I understand that the Jewish Prophets have chosen it for the establishment of the Kingdom of God. If their ancient Eden, their lost Paradise, could somewhere be recovered, it is here, and if the Golden Age sung by Ovid might be reborn, the Lake of Genezareth should become its cradle.

Apropos of this, thou rememberest that our poet had placed this Golden Age in the beginning of the world, and that he finished it in the Garden of the Hesperides, where there was a wonderful tree bearing golden fruit and guarded by a monstrous serpent. From whence came this legend to him? Without doubt he found its elements in the poems of Hesiod; but from whence had Hesiod taken it? Well, my friend, he found it in the books of Moses, which were over fifteen centuries old and which recounted that the first man had been placed in a Garden of Delights and that he was driven out of it by God because he had eaten the fruit of a wonderful tree at the suggestion of the Spirit of Evil, disguised in the form of a serpent.

Is it not interesting to establish, undeniably, the fact that the most ancient poets of Greece and our Ovid appear to have borrowed the theme of their cosmogonical poems from the Holy Books of the Jews?

Thou canst not imagine with what interest I study Hebrew in these extraordinary books that the Jews call their “ Bible.’’ Whatever leisure my military duties allow me I consecrate to them, and, when I am tired, I mount my horse and wander through the country.

Galilee measures scarcely one hundred square miles, and in it can be counted about two hundred villages, fifteen towns and nearly three million inhabitants. A great number of these people are Greek, and several of the towns are even more Greek than Jewish; but, despite this exotic admixture and notwithstanding the Roman domination, this country has remained Jewish, and the dominating power is still a theocratic authority.

The soil is fertile and the country picturesque. Sometimes mountainous, again simply hilly, it produces grain, vineyards, olive trees, fig trees, and furnishes rich pasture for the herds.

Its beautiful miniature sea is a radiant jewel, magnificently enshrined; what doubles the brilliancy of its play of color is the bath of light into which it is always plunged. I spend hours watching the fishing boats that float upon it. They remind me of Castel-

THE BANKS OF THE JORDAN 5

lamare where I was born, and there are moments when I forget that I am in the Orient.

It is really the sun of Italy that bleaches these far away sails and traces paths of light and fire on the waves disturbed by the breeze. It is even the same lapis-lazuli sky, lined here and there with grey and white.

But when my eyes rest upon the broad pathway, Italy fades away and the Orient reappears. Caravans defiling slowly to the rocking step of camels along the great roads that lead from Tyre, Sidon and Damascus ; camps of Arabs, who pursue their nomad life across the desert; shepherds driving their flocks along the slope of the mountains; Jews draped in wide showy tunics, their women veiled and carrying great amphorae upon their heads, coming to draw water at the public fountains — everything reminds me that I am far away from Rome.

V ale j November 5th, Year of Rome ^80, Magdala.

H

THE BANKS OF THE JORDAN CAIUS OPPIUS TO TULLIUS

I HAVE just returned from a trip along the Jordan, as far as the Dead Sea, on the east side, crossing the mountains of Peraea. It is very much wilder than the left bank and infinitely more picturesque. The Dead Sea and that of Genezareth are like two great vessels filled to the top with the same liquid ;

but how very different they are ! The one is gracious, laughing, fragrant as the chalice of love, its sweet waters fertilizing and embellishing the shore; while the other is full of water bituminous and bitter as the cup of hatred and the anger of a god. Vainly the Jordan empties into it her overflowing urn; it is swallowed up as if in a whirlpool and rises no more. Its sacred, blessed wave that bears prosperity throughout all Galilee becomes a curse as it falls into the Dead Sea, spreading desolation and death upon its arid banks.

This sea is really a curious phenomenon, and I find it difficult to explain its origin without having recourse to the Jewish books, which tell how once, in a day of anger, nearly fifteen centuries ago, Jehovah opened this abyss to engulf five sinful cities.

I turn quickly from this desolate shore, and return with joy to the banks of my beautiful Lake of Galilee, following the left side of the Jordan.

From my window I can see a graceful bay hollowed out between two hills, like an amphora with its two arms, and when night comes, the little boats with their white sails lie upon it, and Venus, leaning from her celestial balcony, casts over its surface her brilliant radiance.

Our rural divinities, in whom these people do not believe, lavish here their favors and their riches with a generosity not shown to us who worship them, — worship them in unbelief. For while we offer them our adoration, are we convinced of their reality?

I have brought from Rome into Palestine my gods.

THE BANKS OF THE JORDAN

my Lares; they are placed around a little altar on which I always keep the sacred fire burning. They are now the only ones in whom I still have faith. The flame rising from this hearth, which I contemplate in my evening dreams, still speaks to my soul. It is alive, shines, enlightens and rises over my house as if to show me that there is a better land beyond this earth on which we live.

Vesta! The great Vesta! She is the divinity I love best, because she is pure, because she is a virgin. Speak to me no more of Venus and of Apollo. Their statues adorn my house, but if they were not objects of art, by Jupiter! I would sell them, not to the Jews, who hold them in abhorrence, but to the Greek merchants.

On the two banks of the Jordan that I visited, all the people in every direction spoke to me of the new religion which the Prophet of Nazareth preaches to the Galileans. But the crowd is less impressed by His teachings than by the wonders He works wherever He passes. I am anxious to see Him, and above all, to hear Him, that I may know what religious doctrine He brings into the world.

Vale, November loth, 780, Magdala

III Venus Or Vesta Caius Oppius To Tullius

O N my departure from Rome thou toldest me that I should doubtless meet some alluring Asiatic or bewitching Jewess who- would know how to beautify my exile, and thou claimest to be the necessary depository of my confidences.

Well, my dear friend, if I write to thee now, it is less to assure thee of my friendship than to recount to thee the beginning of an adventure which may become a delicious idyl or a tragedy. Does Venus punish me for having, despised her in the last letter which I wrote thee? Or does Vesta wish to reward me for having sung her praises ? As yet I know nothing of all this, but am inclined to believe that it is not a priestess of Aphrodite but rather a vestal virgin whom I met two days ago.

I was coming on horseback from a trip into Tiberias, when I perceived in an avenue leading to an enchanting villa, a young woman or girl, accompanied by her attendant, climbing the hillock with hurried steps. I saw that she was fleeing with fright from a young man who ran after her and who was about to- catch up with her. I flew to her aid and had only to draw my sword for the intruder to take his flight.

She thanked me with emotion, and I accompanied her to the door. She invited me to enter, but scarcely raised her eyes as she spoke. I declined the invita-

VENUS OR VESTA tion and left, begging her to allow me to see her again, but she answered nothing, and when I returned to her house yesterday I was not received.

My dear friend, thou knowest me well. I am neither an enthusiast nor of an excitable disposition. .Well, this woman has fascinated me, and (this may seem strange to you) without trying to do so; it even seemed to me that she hid the brilliancy of her eyes in order to appear like an ordinary woman. Thou wilt doubtless think that this was the height of cleverness, but I believe more in her sincerity and in her honesty than in the virtue of our vestals. She is the most beautiful Jewess I have met in the Orient. She is dark, with a lovely figure — straight and supple ; her form is worthy of Venus. Her deep black eyes veil a sombre fire. They resemble the eyes of the mariners, who by virtue of contemplating the sea and the sky, have borrowed gleams from the depths and lightning from the storm. I would wager that her abundant hair, when she loosens it, falls to her feet.

Who is she ? What is her history ? Why does she live alone with her servants? As yet I do not know, but I will learn what it all means, and for the moment, I affirm that she is beautiful, distinguished, alluring and that she does not seem to know it nor care to have it told her. Good-bye.

December 12th, y 8 o, Magdala.

lO

IV King Against Prophet Caius Oppius To Tullius

J OHN THE BAPTIST is the name of the Prophet of whom I spoke to thee in my first letter and who has just been imprisoned by order of the King of Galilee. His history merits the telling.

You know that Galilee and Persea are governed under the protectorate of Rome in a more or less restrained measure by King Herod. He is one of the sons of Herod the Great, but he has inherited only the vices of his father. Married to the daughter of Aretas, King of Arabia, he seduced and carried away Herodias, wife of his brother Philip, who was also his own niece, and he married her. The daughter of Aretas returned to her father, who swore hatred and vengeance on Herod and who watches for a favorable occasion to make war upon him.

Meanwhile, Herodias enjoys her new made royalty, and the two lovers give themselves over to every pleasure. They live in a palace remarkable for its beauty and ostentation, in the pretty town of Tiberias, named in honor of our Emperor. It is a city of recent date, of which Herod has made a cosmopolitan center, as well as a Roman town. It is admirably situated on the borders of the lake, not far from Magdala, and when I rode there, I found the baths, the porticoes, the theatres and the places of amusement of Rome, in miniature.

KING AGAINST PROPHET

II

The Galileans are greatly scandalized by the conduct of their king, but the terror which he inspires has imposed silence upon them, and this incestuous and adulterous couple were defying in peace the public conscience, when a powerful voice made itself heard and denounced the scandal. It was the voice of the Prophet John, — surnamed the Baptist because he baptized his disciples in the waters of the Jordan. Here, my dear friend, is an extraordinary type which would have made a sensation in the Roman Forum.

He is a man who is the personification of the desert in which he has lived for twenty years. For twenty years he has kept silence ; and all at once he has become a voice, but a voice such as has never before been heard. Not only his mouth speaks, but his physiognomy, his attitude, his gesture, his life — everything speaks in him and everything is eloquent. After having been the personification of dumbness, he has become the incarnation of speech, and if anyone ask him whom he is, he answers, — Ego sum vox! ’’ He speaks as perhaps primitive man spoke, or, rather, he speaks the language of a mysterious world which we do not know and which must have been revealed to him in visions, during his solitary life.

This, then, is the man who has dared to rise up in the face of Herod Antipas. In the synagogues, on the banks of the Jordan, on the threshold even of Tiberias, wherever his preaching attracted the crowd, John flung the most terrible anathemas against the king and his scandalous life.

The soldiers of the palace arrested him and brought him before Herod. But there, in the presence of the courtiers and of Herodias, trembling with indignation, he continued to make accusations. Instead of excusing himself, he said to the royal couple, Your conduct is criminal!” The indignant queen wanted to have John immediately put to death, but the king did not wish it, and he had the prisoner led to the dungeon of his Castle of Machserus, at the foot of the mountains of Moab in Peraea.

I came back yesterday from a ride to the south of Tiberias, which is six miles from Magdala, and arrived at the gates of the city, just in time to meet the unfortunate prophet dragged along by the Galilean soldiers. His head and his feet were bare, and he wore a coarse garment made of the skin of wild goats, but his hair floated in the wind like a luminous aureole and his eyes raised to heaven, flashed fire. The soldiers whipped and abused him, but he appeared not to heed them. His eloquent mouth, which had lifted up the aspirations of a nation, was closed, perhaps forever.

And there, my dear Tullius, thou seest how the masters of the world choke the cry of honest consciences and courageous voices that dare proclaim the truth and uphold the right. Thou seest well that the world has need of regeneration, and that it is high time that He come, this Messiah whom the Jews expect.

Vale, December 20th, '/So, Magdala.

THE DIVINE TIBERIUS

V

THE DIVINE TIBERIUS TULLIUS TO CAIUS OPPIUS

I HAVE received thy two letters, dated from Magdala, and I envy thee thy lot. There was a time, when for nothing in the world would I have wished to live away from Rome, but to-day its atmosphere weighs me down, and I am disgusted with its false pleasures. Do not regret it, my dear friend. Religion, morals, institutions are in decadence. We no longer believe in the gods of Olympus, who were without doubt fabulous, but we replace them with others who are worth much less and who are, alas! realities !

The ancient divinities bored us perhaps less, because they were fabulous, but the gods of to-day are living, wicked beings. They make use of us; they rob us; they govern us with harshness ; they spy upon our actions and tyrannize over us. Jupiter to-day is called Tiberius. He is at Capri, which he has made into an Elysium. There he enjoys an indescribable luxury and all the new pleasures which can be devised to satisfy and excite his weary appetites. Incense burns constantly before his cruel and grotesque divinity. He is fawned upon, flattered, and artists offer pictures of the new idol to the people for their adoration.

And during all this time we tremble under the despotic government of another god whom you know, ‘‘ Sejanus.’’ He has arrived at the pinnacle of power.

His statues fill the Forum and the Senate kisses his feet.

With diabolical skill, he continues to make ready for his ascension to the throne. He removes all who may prevent the accomplishment of his ends. Tiberius alone ignores him, but he will learn that Sejanus is the true instigator of the poisoning of his son Drusus, who was to have succeeded him. Agrippina, worthy widow of the unfortunate Germanicus, is threatened with exile along with her sons. This, you see, is what passes in the world of our new gods.

And simple mortals are not worth much. Celibates, such as I, no longer wish to marry. Those who are married, make a game of divorce. The women are more and more like her whom Cicero called “ the woman of many husbands.” Mulier multarum nuptiarum/')

The theatre and the games have but one object, which is the corruption of morals, and the circuses are all places of prostitution, where one does not meet only the women of the people. Virtue is dying, hope is dead ; and to those who suffer, there is but one refuge, — suicide. Ah ! thou art happy to be far from this home of pestilence. Thou canst acquire new strength in the admiration and study of nature in all its beauty. Thou hast strange and novel sights to see. Thou art elbow to elbow with a nation older than Rome, which has remained young, whether through faith or hope. Thou dost learn Hebrew, and thou readest the books of Mo-

WHO IS SHE?

IS

ses. How curious this must seem for a man versed as thou art in Greek and Latin letters.

Write to me often and keep me in touch with all that interests thee in the strange country which thou inhabitest. Farewell.

Rome, January 2 d, y8i.

VI Who Is She?

CAIUS OPPIUS TO TULLIUS

I HAVE once more seen my beautiful unknown.

One of her servants opened the door and told me that her mistress had gone out. I was turning away, disconcerted, when I perceived her at the further end of a lane in her garden. Her back was turned to me as she walked slowly away, covered with an ample drapery of white silk striped with black threads. She sat down on a stone bench and began to read from a roll of papyrus which contained, as she afterwards told me, the prophecies of Daniel. As soon as she heard the sound of my footsteps, she arose and advanced to meet me. Her glance showed very plainly that I annoyed her. But I did not have to recall myself to her, nor remind her of the serviqp I had been able to render. A little troubled by the look I fixed upon her, she recalled our chance encounter and began to talk, but hardly opened her big eyes.

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The beautiful acacias which allow the rays of the sun to filter through their chiseled leaves, barely shaded our walk, and I proposed that we should sit under a vaulted arbor of little red and green leaves, but she answered that it would soon be time to go in, and she did not invite me to follow her.

Thou art doubtless curious to know what we could say to each other. Alas! nothing that could make me hope for the least success. She thanked me again for having delivered her from an intruder, and I answered her with entire sincerity that on my part, I thanked the gods who had given me this opportunity to know her. A moment of silence followed. Then after a long sigh, she said : “ I do not believe in your gods, sir,’’ and very cleverly she led me into a religious controversy. She believes in one God, Jehovah, and in one religion, which is that of Moses.

I feebly defended the gods of Rome, and to bring her to talk of love, I said to her : “ Whether there be one God alone, or whether there be several, I do not know. It is to the achievements of divinity, no matter what be its name, that I address my homage, and when I find myself with a woman like yourself, I ask only to adore her.”

Do not profane that word,” she said in a severe tone. “ Adoration is only due to God.”

And on that she turned toward the door and bowed to me with a gesture which plainly said : “ Depart.”

What then, can this strange woman be ?

Salve.

January 4th ^ ^81, Magdala.

MYRIAM

VII Myriam

CAIUS TO TULLIUS

M y beautiful Jewess is a mystery, and I have learned some of the most inexplicable things about her. She is called “ Myriam,” and comes from Bethany, where her family owns a palace. She had been married to a Jewish doctor, who was one of the heads of the synagogue of Magdala, and lived with him two years. But then the unfortunate girl was led astray by an officer of our garrison, whom you must have known at Rome. He is called Pandera, and I remember having met him at Caesarea. Then the husband abandoned his wife; he denounced Pandera to the military authorities, who immediately changed him from his garrison, and poor Myriam consoled herself with other men. Her conduct was notorious, and she became the scandal of Magdala. Her husband died, and with the money of her marriage portion, — which was a considerable sum, — she lived here in luxury.

Then, not two months since, she dismissed all the courtiers who had flocked about her and radically changed her conduct. The last of her admirers was a rich young Greek merchant. It was he who was annoying her with his attentions and from whom I saved her, as I told you in my second letter. How to explain this change of conduct? It is here that the mystery begins.

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The beautiful Myriam met the great Prophet, and the first look He cast upon her upset her completely. It was, they told me, a look accusing and penetrating, which fathomed the depths of her heart and which sounded there all its shame. She lowered her eyes before this look, which she could not endure, and she felt the blushes suffuse her forehead, so unused to blushing. When she once more raised her eyes, the piercing glance of the Prophet was still fixed upon her, and the crowd which had been watching, looked at her with scorn. She turned away, covered with confusion, and since then, she sees, even in her dreams, this terrifying look of the man of God. She is ashamed of her past conduct; she suffers a sorrow she has never before known. She weeps continually, in the hope that her future conduct will merit the Prophet’s forgiveness.

This is all I have gathered on the subject of my beautiful Jewess. Naturally, it is all a mystery to me, and I ask myself what amount of truth and sincerity there is in all of this curious story. I was not simple enough to believe in it altogether, and I admire Myriam too much to renounce her easily. I wanted to see her again, and it has not been without difficulty, as her door is closed to all comers. Thanks to the complicity of her maid and under the pretext of important business, I was fortunate enough to secure another interview with her.

At first I pretended to be entirely ignorant of her history and expressed my admiration in terms as delicate and veiled as possible. I tried to paint for her

MYRIAM the sincerity of my feelings, and implored the grace of a smile and a kind word from her who had conquered me by her look of virginal candor.

Her eyes were cast down as I spoke. When she raised them, I saw that they were full of deep sadness. A bitter smile rose to her lips and she said simply, “ You do not understand to whom you speak. If you did you would not feel as you do, and you would speak in other words. If my looks have deceived you, I am really sorry, and I advise you to carry that love of which I am not worthy elsewhere, if it be pure, and if it be not it is unworthy of you. Any acquaintanceship between us is impossible and I beg you as a favor never to try to see me again.”

She rose as if to give me my dismissal but I begged her to hear me further and I said, —

Myriam, I know who you are and all your story, but let me admire you in spite of this and give me at least a little friendship.”

Ah, you know my history,” she answered blushing; ‘‘and instead of frightening you away, this draws you to me? Well, Centurion, you lose what little esteem I might have had for you, and you are making another mistake. The woman to whom you offer your’ love is dead, and rest assured that she will never live again. If care for your own dignity does not show you in my past an obstacle between us, it remains for me to tell you that an inexplicable love, one that you could not understand, separates me forever from all other loves. He is an extraordinary Being, one whom I hardly know, to whom I have given my entire soul. Is He a man? Is He a God? I do not know. He has never addressed one word to me. I have never even touched the hem of His garment. In spite of that, my heart is all filled with the love which He inspires in me, and all my life belongs to Him. One look of His has worked this miracle in me, and I swear to you that Myriam will never again love any other mortal.”

Upon that she rose with majesty and austerity; she turned away from me and retired into her house, while the servant came to open the outside door for me. My dear Tullius, thou art going to make fun of me, and perhaps thqu wilt do so with reason, but I vow that my adventure is not an ordinary one and that it is worth the telling. If there is to be any more of it, I will let thee know.

January 12th, ySi, Magdala.

THE PROPHET^S DISCIPLES CAIUS TO TULLIUS

LL that they tell me on the subject of the

ITjL Prophet becomes more and more extraordinary. The people believe that He will re-establish the kingdom of Israel and consequently put an end to the domination of Rome over this country. If he wished it, he could create a formidable rebellion. Yesterday, I took my way into Capharnaum to inform myself on the subject of this candidate to roy-