



Produced by Ted Garvin, Danny Wool and PG Distributed Proofreaders









       A Roman Lawyer in Jerusalem

              First Century

                   By

               W.W. Story





  A ROMAN LAWYER IN JERUSALEM


  Marcus, abiding in Jerusalem,
  Greeting to Caius, his best friend in Rome!
  _Salve!_ these presents will be borne to you
  By Lucius, who is wearied with this place,
  Sated with travel, looks upon the East
  As simply hateful--blazing, barren, bleak,
  And longs again to find himself in Rome,
  After the tumult of its streets, its trains
  Of slaves and clients, and its villas cool
  With marble porticoes beside the sea,
  And friends and banquets--more than all, its games--
  This life seems blank and flat. He pants to stand
  In its vast circus all alive with heads
  And quivering arms and floating robes--the air
  Thrilled by the roaring _fremitus_ of men--
  The sunlit awning heaving overhead,
  Swollen and strained against its corded veins
  And flapping out its hem with loud report--
  The wild beasts roaring from the pit below--
  The wilder crowd responding from above
  With one long yell that sends the startled blood
  With thrill and sudden flush into the cheeks--
  A hundred trumpets screaming--the dull thump
  Of horses galloping across the sand--
  The clang of sabbards, the sharp clash of steel--
  Live swords, that whirl a circle of grey fire--
  Brass helmets flashing 'neath their streaming hair--
  A universal tumult--then a hush
  Worse than the tumult--all eyes staining down
  To the arena's pit--all lips set close--
  All muscles strained--and then that sudden yell,
  _Habet!_--That's Rome, says Lucius! so it is!
  That is, 'tis _his_ Rome--'tis not yours and mine.

  And yet, great Jupiter here at my side,
  He stands with face aside as if he saw
  The games he thus describes, and says, "That's life!
  Life! life! my friend, and this is simply death!
  Ah! for my Rome!" I jot his very words
  Just as he utters them. I hate these games,
  And Darius knows it, yet he will go on,
  And all against my will he stirs my blood--
  I suspend my letter for a while.

  A walk has calmed me--I begin again--
  Letting this last page, since it is written, stand.
  Lucius is going: you will see him soon
  In our great Forum, there with him will walk,
  And hear him rail and rave against the East.
  I stay behind--for these bare silences,
  These hills that in the sunset melt and burn,
  This proud stern people, these dead seas and lakes,
  These sombre cedars, this intense still sky,
  To me, o'erwearied with life's din and strain,
  Are grateful as the solemn blank of night
  After the fierce day's irritant excess;
  Besides, a deep absorbing interest
  Detains me here, fills up my mind, and sways
  My inmost thoughts--has got, as 'twere a gripe
  Upon my very life, as strange as new.
  I scarcely know how well to speak of this,
  Fearing your raillery at best--at worst
  Even your contempt; yet, spite of all, I speak.

  First, do not deem me to have lost my head,
  Sunstruck, as that man Paulus was at Rome.
  No, I am sane as ever, and my pulse
  Beats even, with no fever in my blood.
  And yet I half incline to think his words,
  Wild as they were, were not entirely wild.
  Nay, shall I dare avow it? I half tend,
  Here in this place, surrounded by these men--
  Despite the jeering natural at first,
  And then the pressure of my life-long thought
  Trained up against it--to excuse his faith,
  And half admit the Christus he thinks God
  Is, at the least, a most mysterious man.
  Bear with me if I now avow so much:
  When next we meet I will expose my mind,
  But now the subject I must scarcely touch.

  How many a time, while sauntering up and down
  The Forum's space, or pausing 'neath the shade
  Of some grand temple, arch, or portico,
  Have we discussed some knotty point of law,
  Some curious case, whose contradicting facts
  Looked Janus-faced to innocence and guilt.
  I see you now arresting me, to note
  With quiet fervor and uplifted hand
  Some subtle view or fact by me o'erlooked,
  And urging me, who always strain my point
  (Being too much, I know, a partisan),
  To pause, and press not to the issue so,
  But more apart, with less impetuous zeal,
  Survey as from an upper floor the facts.

  I need you now to rein me in, too quick
  To ride