Those fearful words, ‘His blood be upon us and upon our children,’ had scarcely ceased to resound, when Pilate commenced his preparations for passing sentence.  He called for the dress which he wore on state occasions, put a species of diadem, set in precious stones, on his head, changed his mantle, and caused a staff to be carried before him.  He was surrounded with soldiers, preceded by officers belonging to the tribunal, and followed by Scribes, who carried rolls of parchments and books used for inscribing names and dates.  One man walked in front, who carried the trumpet.  The procession marched in this order from Pilate’s palace to the forum, where an elevated seat, used on these particular occasions, was placed opposite to the pillar where Jesus was scourged.  This tribunal was called Gabbatha; it was a kind of round terrace, ascended by means of staircases; on the top was a seat for Pilate, and behind this seat a bench for those in minor offices, while a number of soldiers were stationed round the terrace and upon the staircases.  Many of the Pharisees had left the palace and were gone to the Temple, so that Annas, Caiphas, and twenty-eight priests alone followed the Roman governor on to the forum, and the two thieves were taken there at the time that Pilate presented our Saviour to the people, saying:  ‘Ecce homo!’

Our Lord was still clothed in his purple garment, his crown of thorns upon his head, and his hands manacled, when the archers brought him up to the tribunal, and placed him between the two malefactors.  As soon as Pilate was seated, he again addressed the enemies of Jesus, in these words, ‘Behold your King!’ But the cries of ‘Crucify him!  Crucify him!’ resounded on all sides.

‘Shall I crucify your King?’ said Pilate.

‘We have no King but Caesar!’ responded the High Priests.

Pilate found it was utterly hopeless to say anything more, and therefore commenced his preparations for passing sentence.  The two thieves had received their sentence of crucifixion some time before; but the High Priests had obtained a respite for them, in order that our Lord might suffer the additional ignominy of being executed with two criminals of the most infamous description.  The crosses of the two thieves were by their sides; that intended fro our Lord was not brought, because he was not as yet sentenced to death.

The Blessed Virgin, who had retired to some distance after the scourging of Jesus, again approached to hear the sentence of death pronounced upon her Son and her God.  Jesus stood in the midst of the archers, at the foot of the staircase leading up to the tribunal.  The trumpet was sounded to demand silence, and then the cowardly, the base judge, in a tremulous undecided voice, pronounced the sentence of death on the Just Man.  The sight of the cowardice and duplicity of this despicable being, who was nevertheless puffed up with pride at his important position, almost overcame me, and the ferocious joy of the executioners—­the