# Lazarus, a tale of the world's great miracle/Chapter 13

CHAPTER XIII.
NO wonder that when dawn began to steal across the sky and to struggle through the curtained windows of the High Priest's dwelling, it should find him still awake, perturbed and irritable, and pacing his room, as was his wont when greatly moved. It was a terrible face, this face of Caiaphas, when freed from the look of unctuous pomposity he strove to make impressive to the crowd. He, Caiaphas, had taken a false step; nay, more, he had exposed himself to Nicodemus, a powerful colleague. For once the great deliverer of the law had erred; erred in his assumption, erred in the plot he had concocted, and in the means he had resorted to for its achievement. What now, if Nicodemus should expose him to Pontius Pilate? Worse still, if Caesar should hear of the midnight flitting of the great High Priest to the house of Martha? Had his plan succeeded, he would have turned towards Nicodemus and twitted him with having been his tool. He had intended to try to entangle the Christ in His talk, to lead Him to speak of Himself; nay, more, to ask Him again the question that the Majestic God-Man had already so often meekly answered, yet with a power and emphasis none could fail to recognise as something more than human; the 'Who art Thou?" which had echoed from every lip during ​the ministry of Christ on earth. He had felt sure that Jesus would be with those He loved at the news that sorrow and death had overtaken them; and down in his heart he felt that the answer to his question would be bold and true: "I am the Son of God." Oh, then, what delight to condemn the Nazarene out of His own mouth, and what a refinement of revenge to make Nicodemus a party to the condemnation!
Perhaps far down in his own breast had lain a doubt whether, after all, the Christ could restore Lazarus to life. If He did, it would be useless to resist the populace or to try to persuade them either that the Nazarene was but a man like other men, or that He had a devil. But nothing had turned out as he had expected. Caiaphas the great lawgiver had made a mistake, as even the greatest do sometimes. Why had he not, he asked himself, sent messengers first to Bethany to find out whether the Nazarene was there?
"The wily Galilean, some spirit doth assist Him surely. It seemeth as if He had known that I would come." He went to his window, musing while murmuring these words, and looked out on to the white walls of Jerusalem, just beginning to glow in the light of morning.
He had found Mary alone, praying by the body of Lazarus. Martha even was not there. She had barely raised herself at the great priest's entrance.
"Hast thou come to bless him ere he die? It is too late," she had said.
Her question had seemed for one moment to show Caiaphas the vileness of his own intent; but, quick ​to seize on an advantage, he had replied: "I came, as kinsman, to condole with thee and Martha."
Mary had looked up at Caiaphas for one moment. Something in the tone of Caiaphas had filled her with surprise. It was not like Caiaphas to recognise the kinship, or to do aught from kindness; nay, more, for many months they had been under a curse from him for harbouring the Nazarene.
As if to dispel her wonder, Nicodemus had taken the opportunity, while Caiaphas had walked towards the body of Lazarus, to whisper to her: "Methinks he came expecting to see Jesus raise Lazarus from the dead."
Mary had shaken her head sadly. "We too had hoped so much," she had answered. "We sent to tell the Lord, and the Lord did make reply that this sickness was not unto death, but for the glory of God. Yet now the physicians all declare that this is no trance, but that our brother is dead indeed, and to-night we bury him."
Breathless, Nicodemus had asked: "Dost thou still believe, Mary, that Jesus is the Son of God, and hath power to raise the dead?"
Slowly, but with proud head and trustful eyes upraised to heaven, she had replied: "I believe that Jesus is the Son of God."
At her words, Caiaphas had turned round suddenly; then, shrugging his shoulders, he had replied: "Ye are all gone mad together. If thy Christ had raised thy brother Lazarus, I too would have believed; but now"——
"He will raise him in the resurrection," she had replied with gentle sadness, fretting, as those do ​who cannot prove their words. "Yet He is the Lord," she had added with simple trust.
Signing to Nicodemus to follow, Caiaphas had turned to go.
"Thou blasphemest without knowing it. God forgive thee," he had said. And, with uplifted head and pompous step, he had left the house, stopping at the threshold to shake the dust from off his feet.
One gleam of satisfaction alone had relieved the gloom of his nocturnal visit. If he had missed the Christ, he had satisfied himself that Lazarus was really dead. No trickery could bring him back to life. The sunken eyes and protruding brow, the white fingers, the cold, cold feet; all had been taken in by Caiaphas's eagle glance. If he had betrayed himself to Nicodemus, it mattered little, for no man henceforth would follow the Christ. All Judæa had expected the resurrection of Lazarus. All Judæa had been disappointed, and a disappointed people would be facile to gather back into the fold of the great High Priest. The triumph was to be short-lived, though he knew it not—but it was a triumph, nevertheless. The absence of the Nazarene, the two poor women alone and sorrowing, Lazarus, the friend of the Galilean, dead like any ordinary Jew dog, as Caiaphas expressed it,—all these failures lent themselves to the accomplishment of the High Priest's prophecy that Jesus would die that year. With spies and soldiers everywhere, Caiaphas expected soon to learn where Jesus was, and what kept Him away from the house of Martha.
" 'T is fear, fear lest amongst the multitudes, or ​amidst the uproar, I or Annas should lay hands on Him." So thought Caiaphas aloud; so, later, he expressed himself; but, deep down in his heart, he knew that the Man who boldly in the Temple had denounced the scribes and Pharisees, even the very ruler of Israel himself, and called them hypocrites and whitened sepulchres, could have no fear. Yes, he had noted in the eyes of the Messiah, the only time he had seen Him in the multitude, a look that could goad a man only to untempered penitence, or to deepest hellish hate. That look had pierced Caiaphas to his inmost being. It had seemed to read the secret of his heart, with pity and with scorn that one so learned could be so ignorant, or that, knowing, could so wilfully withhold his knowledge from the nation, and try to cheat his God. That look had ranked Caiaphas with the devils, and surely the sin of Caiaphas was one with that of Satan, who pitted his strength against his God, and tried, poor puny atom of evil, to strive with the Creator and Director of the Universe.
Wearied with his ceaseless pacings to and fro, Caiaphas threw himself upon his couch. His triumph, the triumph of the law, was close at hand. With the failure of Jesus (for what could it be but failure, if Jesus was afraid to save His friend for fear of the multitude?) would begin again the power of the Pharisees, only it would be a thousand times more strong and more despotic. Like wayward children, the people would return. Like one repulsed, they would fall back beneath the sway of Caiaphas. He could hear himself denouncing from the altar their temporary infidelity.
​"Did I not tell ye from the beginning that it would be so?" he thought he heard himself saying. "Did I not tell ye so? Ye would not believe. But ye have set at naught all my counsel and would none of my reproof. I also will laugh at your calamity. I will mock when your fear cometh." Oh, how delicious would be the return of that fawning, cringing people! What sacrifices and oblations he would exact; what tyrannies he would enact to punish them for daring to oppose their will to that of Caiaphas! It was a consoling dream of vengeance and triumph and requital. The great priest leaned his head against the wall and smiled to himself a cold, triumphant smile that had a diabolical imprint upon it.
The door was flung open and a servant announced Nicodemus.
"Methinks he takes too much upon himself in seeking me thus early, and all because last night I walked some paces with him," said Caiaphas to himself; but, when Nicodemus entered, his face assumed a pleasanter expression.
"Welcome, Nicodemus. Hast thou forgiven me?"
"Forgiven thee?" The simple Nicodemus regarded the High Priest with wonder.
With that fascinating Jewish familiarity that had bewitched so many, Caiaphas rose from his couch and placed his hand on Nicodemus's shoulder.
"Now, friend Nicodemus, I will tell thee the truth, but thou must not be angry. Last night I fooled thee; I hoped to catch the Messiah, as ye call Him. Ha! ha! The Messiah indeed! And I ​feared me that, if I had thee not with me, thou wouldst warn Him, and so I should lose my prey. Therefore I behaved to thee as if I too were a believer in this blasphemer."
But Nicodemus answered nothing, and Caiaphas with a little less certainty in his manner went on: "But He fooled us, this Nazarene; for where I, Caiaphas, expected to find Him, He was not; so our night errand was a wasted one, and thou mayst mock Caiaphas and point thy finger at him for a fool. What sayest thou now, Nicodemus? Did I not feign well?"
"Not better than could be expected of the High Priest," replied Nicodemus in a tone of asperity and cynicism, of which Caiaphas had not thought him capable, and which might hide meaning he would not relish.
Yet he continued: "I knew thou wouldst be angry, for no man likes to be fooled by another; but, last night, we were both fools, for thou fooledst me and the blasphemous Nazarene fooled us both." Here he laughed harshly. "But at any rate we have done with Him; He hath disappointed the people. His power, 't is evident, cannot always be put forth, or He would have spared His friend Lazarus the pains of death." Then, reseating himself, Caiaphas continued unctuously: "So it is that all that is not true cometh to an end. At one time it seemed truly, from what the people said, that this Galilean did participate in some way of the divine; but praise be to God (here Caiaphas rolled his eyes upward toward the ceiling), who doth not let the wicked flourish for ever. This wavering of the ​people hath been cut short. The bewitchment is over, and their souls will return unto the law of Moses. They will have learned much that is true and noble from this fanatic; they will return in strengthened faith to their own rulers, and Judæa will be more quiet than before."
Nicodemus, bewildered, yet half doubting, was about to reply; but, even while he opened his lips, there was a great noise below as of tramping feet, and presently cries and shrieks rose on the air with bewildering clamour and confusion. The voices of men and women and children were joined in a song of praise, and cry after cry went up, "Hosanna! Hosanna!" Then a chorus of young voices broke out spontaneously in the beautiful words of the Psalmist, chanted to the tune of a melodious Hebrew hymn:—"Surely His salvation is nigh them that fear Him; that glory may dwell in our land. Mercy and truth are met together: and righteousness shall look down from heaven. O Lord, how great are Thy works! Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all ye lands. Know ye that the Lord He is God. Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all the earth: make a loud noise, and rejoice, and sing praise. Praise ye the Lord. Praise ye the Lord."
As the noise approached the house of Caiaphas the High Priest could hear, during an occasional lull, hisses and groans. Then, now and then, a voice shrieked out: "Where is Lazarus? Give us Lazarus."
Caiaphas sat silent, clasping the sides of his cedarwood chair, and bit his lips, affecting to have no curiosity. Nicodemus, however, had rushed to the ​window-seat with spontaneous eagerness to see what the clamour might portend.
But it could not be that Caiaphas, the restless, arrogant, wrath-eaten Caiaphas, would long be silent.
With a deep, harsh, derisive laugh he called out to Nicodemus impatiently: "What seest thou? Is it, perchance, Lazarus restored by the Son of God?" Nicodemus turned his head for one moment in answer. "I see naught but a vociferating crowd assembled round a beggar man." Then, stretching farther out of the window, he called to one of the soldiers who always stood at the entrance of Caiaphas's door: "Wherefore all this tumult?"
"It is the beggar Rabneh, who hath returned from the Pool of Siloam," replied the soldier. "They say it is he that was blind and whose sight was restored by the Nazarene."
"Is it in truth so? Is it he?" asked Nicodemus, as softly as the distance would permit, lest Caiaphas should hear; but no whisper escaped the alert ears of the suspicious High Priest.
"Peace, thou fool!" he roared. "How can it be he?"
But Nicodemus paid no heed. The crowd had assembled beneath the window, gabbling furiously, quarrelling, vociferating, howling with praise, or shrieking in derision, and thronging around a poorly clad man, some shouting: "How were thine eyes opened?" others crying out: "It is not he, it is another like him, it is not he."
"Where, then, is the beggar we have often seen on the wayside, begging, and ofttimes entreating the Christ; where is he, if this be not the man?"
​"Go and fetch him!" cried a voice. But, even whilst the voice was lost in the tumult of disputings, two old people of the poorest class, leaning on sticks, approached, and the Jewish crowd, courteous in all its laws and ways, fell back to let age pass by unmolested.
"Here are his parents; mayhap they will know if he be their son," cried a scornful voice. "Give ear, give ear," cried the people; and then a dead silence ensued, while one of the Pharisees stepped up to the old couple.
"Speak," said he, with a tone of authority. "Is this your son who, ye say, was born blind? How, then, doth he now see?"
The crowd seemed electrified into silence, and a great hush fell on all while they waited for the answer. So sudden was the silence that Caiaphas could contain his curiosity no longer, but strode to the window and, laying a powerful hand on Nicodemus's shoulder, drew him back to make room for his own portly figure.
Too excited to resent this insult, Nicodemus explained the situation to the High Priest.
"See, there are the parents of the blind man, but they are so old and full of fear that they are slow to answer."
Then, in a voice he strove hard to make steady, the old man answered: "We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind, but by what means he seeth, we know not; he is of age; ask him; he shall speak for himself."
Then, turning to the man again, the crowd shouted as with one voice: "How were thine eyes opened? ​Tell us, or we will kill thee as a blasphemer and a liar."
Then the beggar spoke: "A man that is called Jesus made clay, and anointed mine eyes, and said unto me, 'Go to the Pool of Siloam, and wash'; and I went and washed, and I received sight."
"Dost thou say, then, that He is the Christ?" asked one of the Pharisees again; for he knew that if the man would but say that Jesus was the Christ they would cast him out of the Synagogue. For the unbelieving Jews had already agreed that this was to be the penalty of those who acknowledged the Nazarene to be the Christ.
But the beggar, fearing entanglement, was silent.
Then the Pharisee spoke again: "Give God the praise. We know that this man is a sinner."
Fearing the multitude, the man did not cry out, "He is the Christ, He is the Son of God"; but, full of gratitude for his new-found sight, he could not let the Pharisee's words remain unanswered.
"Whether he be a sinner or no, I know not," he replied; "but one thing I know, that, whereas I was blind, now I see."
Then said they to him again, hoping to confound him out of his own mouth: "What did He to thee? How opened He thine eyes?"
Then, still fearing the crowd, but growing stronger in faith and loyalty, the beggar answered: "I have told ye already, and ye did not hear; wherefore would ye hear it again? will ye also be His disciples?"
Then they reviled him, and said: "Thou art His disciple; but we are Moses' disciples."
​"Well spoken, well spoken," muttered Caiaphas, and the voices went on speaking: "We know that God spake unto Moses; as for this fellow, we know not from whence He is."
Then, oblivious of all danger, and conscious only of a great love and gratitude to the compassionate Jesus who had opened his eyes, the beggar spoke again: "Why, herein is a marvellous thing, that ye know not from whence He is, and yet He hath opened mine eyes. Now we know that God heareth not sinners, but, if any man be a worshipper of God, and doeth His will, him He heareth."
"He argueth well, this beggar," muttered Caiaphas, carried away against his will by the man's words.
The beggar continued: "Since the world began was it not heard that any man opened the eyes of one that was born blind. If this Man were not of God, He could do nothing."
Then the multitude divided amongst themselves, some believing, and some reviling; yet, united in wonder and curiosity, they shouted: "What sayest thou of Him that hath opened thine eyes?"
And the beggar, fearing the while that he would be torn to pieces, replied, with faltering faith: "He is a prophet."
"Thou sayest so now, but thou almost said but a moment ago that He is of God; where is He then, that He may witness of thy sayings?"
"I know not," replied the beggar.
"No, thou knowest not for thine own ends. He, too, hideth Himself for fear of the people," cried some of the crowd. "He feared even to be at His ​friend's death-bed, lest the sister should revile Him, or the Jews take Him."
And the crowd began to lay hands on the beggar to smite him, and push him about, gibing him the while and taunting him with coarse speech; while Caiaphas, standing back from the window, lest he should be noticed by the crowd, muttered ominously: "Well done, well done, my people."
Layout 2