Pilate and his Wife.
Whilst the Jews were leading Jesus to Herod, I saw Pilate go to his
wife, Claudia Procles. She hastened to meet him, and they went together
into a small garden-house which was on one of the terraces behind the
palace. Claudia appeared to be much excited, and under the influence of
fear. She was a tall, fine-looking woman, although extremely pale. Her
hair was plaited and slightly ornamented, but partly covered by a long
veil which fell gracefully over her shoulders. She wore earrings, a
necklace, and her flowing dress was drawn together and held up by a
species of clasp. She conversed with Pilate for a long time, and
entreated him by all that he held sacred not to injure Jesus, that
Prophet, that saint of saints; and she related the extraordinary dreams
or visions which she had had on the previous night concerning him.
Whilst she was speaking I saw the greatest part of these visions:
the following were the most striking. In the first place, the principal
events in the life of our Lord--the annunciation, the nativity, the
adoration of the shepherds and that of the kings, the prophecy of
Simeon and that of Anna, the flight into Egypt, the massacre of the
Innocents, and our Lord's temptation in the wilderness. She had likewise
been shown in her sleep the most striking features of the public life
of Jesus. He always appeared to her environed with a resplendent light,
but his malicious and cruel enemies were under the most horrible and
disgusting forms imaginable. She saw his intense sufferings, his
patience, and his inexhaustible love, likewise the anguish of his
Mother, and her perfect resignation. These visions filled the wife of
Pilate with the greatest anxiety and terror, particularly as they were
accompanied by symbols which made her comprehend their meaning, and her
tender feelings were harrowed by the sight of such dreadful scenes. She
had suffered from them during the whole of the night; they were
sometimes obscure, but more often clear and distinct; and when morning
dawned and she was roused by the noise of the tumultuous mob who were
dragging Jesus to be judged, she glanced at the procession and
instantly saw that the unresisting victim in the midst of the crows,
bound, suffering, and so inhumanely treated as to be scarcely
recognisable, was no other than that bright and glorious being who had
been so often brought before her eyes in the visions of the past night.
She was greatly affected by this sight, and immediately sent for
Pilate, and gave him an account of all that had happened to her. She
spoke with much vehemence and emotion; and although there was a great
deal in what she had seen which she could not understand, much less
express, yet she entreated and implored her husband in the most
touching terms to grant her request.
Pilate was both astonished and troubled by the words of his wife. He
compared the narration with all he had previously heard concerning
Jesus; and reflected on the hatred of the Jews, the majestic silence of
our Saviour, and the mysterious answers he had given to all his
questions. He hesitated for some time, but was at last overcome by the
entreaties of his wife, and told her that he had already declared his
conviction of the innocence of Jesus, and that he would not condemn
him, because he saw that the accusations were mere fabrications of his
enemies. He spoke of the words of Jesus to himself, promised his wife
that nothing should induce him to condemn this just man, and even gave
her a ring before they parted as a pledge of his promise.
The character of Pilate was debauched and undecided, but his worst
qualities were an extreme pride and meanness which made him never
hesitate in the performance of an unjust action, provided it answered
his ends. He was excessively superstitious, and when in any difficulty
had recourse to charms and spells. He was much puzzled and alarmed
about the trial of Jesus; and I saw him running backwards and forwards,
offering incense first to one god and then to another, and imploring
them to assist him; but Satan filled his imagination with still greater
confusion; he first instilled one false idea and then another into his
mind. He then had recourse to one of his favourite superstitious
practices, that of watching the sacred chickens eat, but in vain,--his
mind remained enveloped in darkness, and he became more and more
undecided. He first thought that he would acquit our Saviour, whom he
well knew to be innocent, but then he feared incurring the wrath of his
false gods if he spared him, as he fancied he might be a species of
demigod, and obnoxious to them. 'It is possible,' said he inwardly, 'that
this man may really be that king of the Jews concerning whose coming
there are so many prophecies. It was a king of the Jews whom the Magi
came from the East to adore. Perhaps he is a secret enemy both of our
gods and of the emperor; it might be most imprudent in me to spare his
life. Who knows whether his death would not be a triumph to my gods?'
Then he remembered the wonderful dreams described to him by his wife,
who had never seen Jesus, and he again changed, and decided that it
would be safer not to condemn him. He tried to persuade himself that he
wished to pass a just sentence; but he deceived himself, for when he
asked himself, 'What is the truth?' he did not wait for the answer. His
mind was filled with confusion, and he was quite at a loss how to act,
as his sole desire was to entail no risk upon himself.