lver Cross; Or, The Carpenter of Nazareth
PREFACE
Eugene Sue wrote in French a monumental work: "The Mysteries of the People," or "History of a Proletarian Family." It is a "work of fiction;" yet it is the best universal history extant: better than any work, avowedly on history, it graphically traces the special features of the several systems of class-rule as they have succeeded each other from epoch to epoch, together with the nature of the struggle between the contending classes. The "Law," "Order," "Patriotism," "Religion," etc., etc., that each successive tyrant class, despite its change of form, hysterically sought refuge in to justify its criminal existence whenever threatened; the varying economic causes of the oppression of the toilers; the mistakes incurred by these in their struggles for redress; the varying fortunes of the conflict; – all these social dramas are therein reproduced in a majestic series of "historic novels," covering leading and successive episodes in the history of the race.
The work here published in English garb is one of these historic novels. It is chosen because of its singular fitness to modern times in one important respect: – the unity of action of the oppressors, despite hostile politico-material interests and clashing religious views; the hypocrisy that typifies them all; the oneness of fundamental purpose that animates pulpit, professorial chair or public office in possession of a plundering class; and, last not least, the identity of the methods pursued and the pretences seized by the plundering and ruling class, at that long ago critical period in the history of the human race, when the pre-feudal colossus of the Roman Empire was, by force of its own power, beginning to strangle itself, and, at the present or third critical period, when the grand-child of that Roman System and child of Feudalism, – Capitalism – , is now in turn, likewise by virtue of its own ripened colossal power, throttling itself to death, and, with its death throes, heralding the advent of a new civilization – the Socialist Social System.
"The Silver Cross," or "The Carpenter of Nazareth," is a pathetic page from history that holds the mirror up to the Capitalist Class – its orators, pulpiteers, politicians, lawyers, together with all its other menials of high and low degree – , and, by the reflexion cast, enlightens and warns.
New York, Oct. 5, 1898.
CHAPTER I
It was about the fifteenth year of the reign of the Emperor Tiberius that I, Genevieve, a slave of Aurelia, the wife of a Roman named Gremion and located in Marseilles, departed from Marseilles with my mistress and her husband for Judea.
The dominion of the Romans, at that period, extended from one end of the world to the other. Judea had submitted to them, as a dependence of the province of Syria, governed by a magistrate from Rome. Several vessels departed from Marseilles for the country of the Israelites. My master, Gremion, a relative of the Roman Procurator in Judea named Pontius Pilate, was chosen to replace in that country the treasury-tribune, appointed to collect the taxes; for wherever the Roman dominion established itself, the exaction of taxes was established at the same time.
One evening there was, at Jerusalem, a grand supper at Pontius Pilate's, Procurator in the country of the Israelites, for the Emperor Tiberius.
Towards the decline of the day, the most brilliant society of the city repaired to the house of the Roman seigneur. His mansion, like that of all the rich persons of the country, was built of hewn stone, plastered over with chalk, and painted a red color.
This sumptuous residence was entered by a square court, surrounded by marble columns, forming a gallery. In the middle of this court there was a fountain, which spread a delicious freshness beneath the scorching sun of Arabia. An immense palm tree, planted near the fountain, covered it with its shade during the heat of day. Next came a vestibule filled with servants, and thence followed the dining hall, wainscotted with sandal wood, inlaid with ivory.
Around the table were ranged beds of cedar-wood, hung with rich draperies, on which the guests seated themselves during the repast. In accordance with the custom of the country, the women who partook of the dinner had each brought one of their slaves, who stood behind them during the feast. It was thus that I, Genevieve, witnessed the scenes I am about to narrate, having accompanied my mistress, Aurelia, to the house of Pontius Pilate.
The society was select. Amongst the most distinguished guests were remarked the Seigneur Baruch, a senator and doctor of law; the Seigneur Chusa, steward of the household of Herod, tetrarch or prince of Judea, under the protection of Rome; the Seigneur Gremion, newly arrived from Roman Gaul, as clerk of the treasury in Judea; the Seigneur Jonas, one of the richest bankers in Jerusalem; and lastly, the Seigneur Caiphus, one of the princes of the Hebrew church.
Amongst the number of women who were present at the feast were Lucretia, the wife of Pontius Pilate; Aurelia, the wife of Gremion; and Jane, the wife of Chusa. The two prettiest women of the assembly, who on this night supped with Pontius Pilate, were Jane and Aurelia. Jane had that beauty peculiar to the orientals; large black eyes, soft and piercing, and teeth of a snowy whiteness, which her dark complexion rendered still more dazzling. Her turban, of rich Tyrian cloth, and of a purple color, encircled by a heavy gold chain, the two ends fell one on each shoulder, encased her countenance half concealed by large tresses of black hair. She was dressed in a long white robe, leaving bare her arms loaded with gold bracelets. Over this robe, confined round her waist by a scarf of purple cloth, similar to the turban, she wore a sort of spencer of orange silk, without sleeves. The handsome features of Jane had an expression full of gentleness, and her smile expressed an engaging sweetness.
Aurelia, Gremion's wife, born of Roman parents, in southern Gaul, was also beautiful, and wore, according to the fashion of her country, two tunics, one a long one and red, the other short and clear blue; a gold band confined her chestnut hair; her complexion was as fair as that of Jane was dark; her large blue eyes beamed with delight, and her cheerful smile announced an unalterable good humor.
The senator Baruch, one of the most learned doctors of the law, occupied at this supper the place of honor. He appeared to be a perfect gourmand, for his green turban was almost constantly close to his plate; two or three times even he was obliged to loosen the belt that confined his flowing violet robe, adorned with long silver fringe. The gluttony of this fat seigneur made Jane and Aurelia often smile and whisper, new friends as they were, and seated next each other, and behind whom stood I, Genevieve, not losing one of their words, and equally attentive to all that was said by the guests.
The Seigneur Jonas, one of the richest bankers of Jerusalem, wearing a little yellow turban, and brown robe, and having a pointed grey beard, resembled a bird of prey; he conversed from time to time, in a suppressed tone, with doctor Baruch, who replied to him but rarely, and without interrupting himself in his eating, whilst the high priest Caiphus, Gremion, Pontius Pilate, and the other guests, also pursued their conversation.
Towards the conclusion of the supper, the doctor of law, beginning to be satisfied, wiped his greasy beard with the back of his hand, and said to the treasury-receiver, newly arrived in Judea:
'Seigneur Gremion, are you getting accustomed to our poor country? Ah! ‘tis a great change for you, who arrive from Roman Gaul. What a long voyage you had!'
'I like to visit new countries,' replied Gremion, 'and I shall frequently have occasion to travel through this in order to overlook the bill-collectors.'
'Unfortunately for the Seigneur Gremion,' said the banker Jonas, 'he arrives in Judea at a most unhappy time.'
'Why so, seigneur?' inquired Gremion.
'Are not civil troubles always bad times?' replied the banker.
'No doubt, seigneur Jonas; but what troubles do you refer to?'
'My friend Jonas,' observed Baruch, the learned doctor, 'alludes to the deplorable disorders which that vagabond of Nazareth everywhere draws after him, and which increase every day.'
'Ah! yes,' said Gremion, 'that ancient journeyman carpenter of Galilee, born in a stable, and son of a plough maker? He is running about the country, they say, and you call him…'
'If we give him the name he deserves,' exclaimed the learned doctor in an angry tone, 'he would be called the vagabond, the impious, the seditious; but he bears the name of