head they were at perfect ease; "What is that to us? See thou to that." And yet to see the astonishing inconsistence of human nature, and the strange contrivances by which even the most abandoned of men endeavour to satisfy their minds and quiet their apprehensions; these very men, who had no scruple at all in murdering an innocent person, yet had won`derful qualms of conscience about putting into the treasury the money which they themselves had given as the "price of blood!" "The chief priests took the silves pieces, and said, It is not lawful for us to put them into the treasury, because it is the price of blood. And they took counsel, and bought with them the potter's field, to bury strangers in. Wherefore that field was called The field of Blood, unto this day. Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by Jeremy the prophet, saying, And they took the thirty pieces of silver, the price of him that was valued, whom they of the children of Israel did value, and gave them for the potter's field, as the Lord appointed me."* I cannot pass on from this part of the chapter without observing, that the short account here given us of Judas Iscariot affords us a very striking proof of the perfect innocence and integrity of our Lord's character, and of the truth of his pre tensions. Had there been any thing reprehensible in the former, or any deceit in the latter, it must have been known to Judas Iscariot. He was one of the twelve who were the constant companions of our Saviour's ministry, and witnesses to every thing he said or did. If therefore his conduct had been in any respect irregular or immoral; if his miracles had been the effect of collusion or fraud; if there had been any plan concerted between him and his disciples to impose a false religion upon the world, and under the guise of piety, to gratify their love of fame, honour, wealth, or power; if, in short, Jesus had been either an enthusiast or an impostor, Judas must have been in the secret; and when he betrayed his Master, would immediately have divulged it to the world. By such a discovery, he would not only have justified his own treachery, but * It happens that this passage is not found in Jeremiah, to which the evangelist refers, but in the eleventh chapter of Zechariah. But there are various very satisfactory ways in which learned men have accounted for this difficulty; which after all, as the prophecy actually exists, is a matter of no moment; and in writings two or three thousand years old, it is no great wonder if, by the carelessness of transcribers, one name should sometimes (especially where abreviations are used) be put for another. might probably have gratified also his ruling passion, his love of money. For there can be no doubt that when the chief priests and rulers were industriously seeking out for evidence against Jesus, they would most gladly have purchased that of Judas at any price, however extravagant, that he chose to demand. But instead of producing any evidence against Jesus, he gives a voluntary and most decisive evidence in his favour. "I have sinned," says he, in an agony of grief; "I have sinned, and have betrayed the innocent blood." This testimony of Judas is invaluable, because it is the testimony of an unwilling witness; the testimony, not of a friend but of an enemy; the testimony, not of one desirous to favour and to befriend the accused, but of one who had actually betrayed him. After such an evidence as this, it seems impossible for any ingenuous mind either to question the reality of our Saviour's miracles, or the divinity to which he laid claim; because, as Judas declared him innocent (which he could not be, had he in any respect deceived his disciples) he must have been, what he assumed to be, the Son of God, and his religion the word of God. After this account of Judas Iscariot, the evangelist proceeds in the history. "And Jesus stood before the governor." Little did that governor imagine who it was that then stood before him. Little did he suspect that he must himself one day stand before the tribunal of that very person, whom he was then going to judge as a criminal! It appears from the parallel place in St. Luke (and from what was stated in the preceding Lecture,) that the charge brought against Jesus before Pilate was not what it had been before the chief priests, blasphemy, but sedition and treason. "They began to accuse him, saying, We found this fellow perverting the nation, and forbidding to give tribute to Cæsar, saying, that he himself is Christ a king."* These were great crimes against the state, as affecting both the revenue and the sovereignty of the Roman emperor, both of which it was the duty of the governor to support and maintain. "Pilate therefore asked him, Art thou the king of the Jews? And Jesus said unto him, Thou sayest.' That is, I am what thou sayest. "And when he was accused of the chief priests and elders he answered nothing. Then saith Pilate unto him, Hearest thou not how many things those witness against thee? And he answered him to never a word; insomuch that the governor mar *Luke xxiii. 2. velled greatly." Our Lord's conduct on this occasion was truly dignified. When he was called upon to acknowledge what was really true, he gave a direct answer both to the chief priests and to Pilate. He acknowledged that he was the Christ, the Son of God, the King of the Jews; but false and frivolous, and unjust accusations, he treated as they deserved, with profound and contemptuous silence. It appears, however, from St. John, that although Jesus declared he was the King of the Jews, yet he explained to Pilate the nature of his kingdom, which he assured him was not of this world. And Pilate, satisfied with this explanation, and seeing clearly that the whole accusation was malicious and groundless, made several efforts to save Jesus. He repeatedly declared to his accusers, that having examined him, he could find no fault in him. This, however, instead of disarming their fury, only inflamed and increased it. They were the more fierce, as St. Luke tells us, saying, "He stirreth up the people, teaching throughout all Jewry, beginning from Galilee to this place." The mention of Galilee suggested an idea to Pilate, which he flattered himself might save him the pain of condemning an innocent man. "Wheu Pilate heard of Galilee, he asked whether the man were a Galilean; and as soon as he knew that he belonged to Herod's jurisdiction, he sent him to Herod. That tyrant, who was delighted to see Jesus, and was probably very well disposed to treat him as he did his precursor, John the Baptist, yet could bring no guilt home to him. He therefore sent him back to Pilate, insulted and derided, but uncondemned. Pilate, not yet discouraged, had recourse to another expedient, which he hoped might still preserve a plainly guiltless man. It was the custom at the great feast of the passover for the Roman governor to gratify the Jewish people, by pardoning and releasing to them any prisoner whom they chose to select out of those that were condemned to death. Now there happened to be at that time a notorious criminal in prison, named Barabbas, who had been guilty of exciting an insurrection, and committing murder in it. Pilate thinking it impossible that the people could carry their malignant rage against Jesus so far as to desire the pardon of a murderer rather than of him, said unto them, "Whom will ye that I release unto you, Barabbas, or Jesus which is called Christ ?" Had the people been left to their own unbiassed feeling, one would think that they could not have hesitated one moment in their choice. But they were under the influence of leaders (as they *Luke xxiii. 5. + Luke xxiii. 6, 7. generally are) more wicked than themselves. For we are told, that "the chief priests and elders, persuaded the multitude that they should ask Barabbas, and destroy Jesus."* While this was passing, an extraordinary incident took place, which must needs have made a deep impression on the mind of Pilate. "When he was sat down upon the judgmentseat, his wife sent unto him, saying, Have thou nothing to do with that just man; for I have suffered many things this day in a dream because of him." Anxious as Pilate already was to save Jesus, this singular circumstance coming upon him at the moment, must have greatly quickened his zeal in such a cause. He therefore redoubled his efforts to carry his point, and again said to the Jews, "Whether of the twain will ye that I release unto you? They said Barabbas. Pilate still persisted, What shall I do then with Jesus which is called Christ?" that is, the Messiah, the great deliverer whom they expected; thinking this consideration might soften them. But he was mistaken; they all say unto him, "Let him be crucified." Once more he endeavoured to move their compassion, by reminding them of the perfect innocence of Jesus. The governor said unto them, "Why? what evil hath he done?" But even this last affecting remonstrance was all in vain: they cried out the more, saying, "Let him be crucified." When there fore Pilate saw that he could prevail nothing, but rather a tumult was made, he took water, and washed his hands before the multitude, saying, “I am innocent of the blood of this just person; see ye to it." This was a custom both among the Jews and the Romans, when they wished to exculpate themselves from the guilt of having put to death an innocent man. We meet with instances of this significant ablution in several classic writers. The Mosaic law itself enjoined it in certain cases; and it is in allusion to this ceremony that David says in the Psalms, "I will wash my hands in innocency, O Lord; (that is, in testimony of my innocence) and so will I go to thine altar."|| This therefore was at once a visible declaration of the inno * Matth. xxvii. 20. + Sophocles-Ajax, iii. I. v. 664, and Scholiast in Loco. So Eneas, after having recently slaughtered so many of his enemies at the sack. ing of Troy by the Greeks, durst not touch his household gods, till he had washed himself in the running stream. Me bello e tanto digressum et cæde recenti, Abluero. En. 1. ii. v. 718. Deut. xxi. 6, 7. || Psalm xxvi. 6. cence of Jesus, and of Pilate's reluctance in condemning him. To this the Jews made that answer, which must petrify every heart with horror. Then answered all the people, and said, "His blood be upon us and on our children.” Then released he Barabbas unto them. And when he had scourged Jesus, he delivered him to be crucified." Here let us pause a moment, and look back to the scene we have been contemplating, and the reflections that arise from it. It affords, in the first place, a most awful warning to the lower orders of the people, to beware of giving themselves up, as they too frequently do, to the direction of artful and profligate leaders, who abuse their simplicity and credulity to the very worst purposes, and make use of them only as tools, to accomplish their own private views of ambition, of avarice, of resentment, or revenge. We have just seen a most striking instance of this strange propensity of the multitude to be misled, and of the ease with which their passions are worked up to the commission of the most atrocious crimes. The Jewish people were naturally attached to Jesus. They were astonished at his miracles, they were charmed with his discourses; and their diseases and infirmities were relieved by his omnipotent benevolence. But notwithstanding all this, by the dexterous management of their chief priests and elders, their admiration of Jesus was converted in a moment into the most rancorous hatred; they were persuaded to ask the life of a murderer in preference to his; and to demand the destruction of a man who had never offended them, whose innocence was as clear as the day, and was repeatedly acknowledged and strongly urged upon them by the very judge who had tried him. Yet even that judge himself, who was so thoroughly convinced of the innocence of his prisoner, and actually used every means in his power to preserve him, even he had not the honesty and the courage to protect him effectually; and his conduct affords a most dreadful proof what kind of a thing public justice was among the most enlightened, and (if we may believe their own poets and historians) the most virtuous people in the ancient heathen world. We see a Roman governor sent to dispense justice in a Roman province, and invested with full powers to save or to destroy; we see him with a prisoner before him, in whom he repeatedly declared he could find no fault and yet, after a few ineffectual struggles with his own conscience, he delivers up that prisoner, not merely to death, but to the most horrible and excruciating torments that human malignity could devise. The fact is, he was afraid of the people, he was afraid of Cæsar; and when the clamorous multi |