The Prince of the House of David

by J. H. Ingraham

[LETTER XVII.]

My Dear Father:

When, on the morning of the Passover, it was noised abroad that the Prophet of Galilee was entering the city by the gate of Jericho, the whole city was stirred, and from houses and shops poured forth crowds which turned their steps in that direction. Mary and I went upon the house-top, hoping to see something; but far and near was visible only a sea of heads, from which a deep murmuring arose, like the ceaseless voice of the ocean chafing upon a rocky shore. The top of the gate-way was visible from the place where we stood, but it was black with the people who had crowded upon it to look down. There was heard at length an immense shout, as of one voice, which was followed by a swaying and onward pressure of the crowds.

"The Prophet must have entered the gate," said my Cousin Mary, breathlessly. "How they do him honor! It is the reception of a king!"

We were in hopes he would pass by our house, as we were on one of the chief thoroughfares, but were disappointed, as he ascended the hill of Moriah to the Temple. A part of the ascent to the house of the Lord is visible from our roof, and we had the satisfaction of seeing the Prophet at a distance. We knew him only because he was in advance. The nighest one to him, Mary said, was her Cousin John, though at that distance I could not have recognized him. The head of the multitude disappeared beneath the arch of the Temple, and thousands upon thousands followed after; and in the rear rode the young Roman centurion, whom I have before spoken of, at the head of four hundred horse, to keep order in the vast mass. Mary could not recognize him, saying it was too far to tell who he was; but I knew him, not only by his air and bearing, but by the scarlet pennon that fluttered from his iron lance, and which I had bestowed upon him, for he told me he had lost one his fair Roman sister, Tullia, had given him, and as he so much regretted its loss, I supplied its place by another, worked by my own hands.

The multitude, as many as could gain admission, having entered the great gate of the Temple, for a few minutes there was a profound stillness. Mary said:

"He is worshiping or sacrificing now."

"Perhaps," I said, "he is addressing the people, and they listen to his words."

While I was speaking there arose from the bosom of the Temple a loud, irregular, strange outcry of a thousand voices, pitched to high excitement. The people without the gate responded by a universal shout, and then we beheld those nighest the walls retreat down the hillside in terrified confusion, while, to increase the tumult, the Roman horse charged up the hill, seeking to penetrate the masses to reach the gate out of which the people poured like a living and tempest-tossed river, before which the head of the cohort recoiled or was overwhelmed and down-trodden! I held my breath in dreadful suspense, not knowing the cause of the fearful scene we beheld, nor to what it might lead. Mary sank, almost insensible, by my side. A quarter of an hour had not passed when young Samuel Ben Azel, who had the day before come up from Nain to the Passover with his mother, entered and explained to us the cause of the scene I had witnessed.