Thus ends this wonderful composition, which carries its own condemnation with it. The two captures and sentences of Jeschu are apparently two forms of Jewish legend concerning Christ’s death, which the anonymous writer has clumsily combined. The scene in Gethsemane is laid on the other side of Jordan. It is manifestly imitated from the Gospels, but not directly, probably from some mediaeval sculptured representation of the Agony in the Garden, common outside every large church.(119) In place of an angel appearing to comfort Christ, an evil spirit vexes him. The kiss of Judas is transformed into a genuflexion or prostration before him, and takes place, not in the Garden but in the Temple. The resistance of the disciples is mentioned. Jeschu is bound to a marble pillar and scourged. Of this the Gospels say nothing; but the pillar is an invariable feature in artistic representations of the scourging. Two of the sayings on the Cross are correctly given. In agreement with the account in the Talmud, Jeschu is stoned, and then, to identify the son of Panthera with the son of Mary, is hung on a tree. The tree breaks, and he falls to the ground. The visitor to Oberammergau Passion Play will remember the scene of Judas hanging himself, and the tree snapping. The Toledoth Jeschu does not say that Jeschu was crucified, but that he was hung. The suicide of Judas was identified with the death of Jesus. If the author of the anti‐evangel saw the scene of the breaking bough in a miracle‐play, he would perhaps naturally transfer it to Christ. The women seated late at night by the sepulchre, or coming early with spices, a feature in miracle‐plays of the Passion, are transformed into the disciples weeping above the grave. The angel who addresses them, in the Toledoth Jeschu, becomes Judas. In miracle‐plays, Claudia Procula, the wife of Pilate, assumes a prominence she does not occupy in the Gospels; she may have originated the idea in the mind of the author of Wagenseil’s Toledoth, of the Queen Helena. That he confounded the Queen of King Jannaeus with the mother of Constantine is not wonderful. The latter was the only historical princess who showed sympathy with the Christians at Jerusalem, and of whose existence the anonymous author was aware, probably through the popular mediaeval romance of Helena, “La belle Helène.” He therefore fell without a struggle into the gross anachronism of making the Empress Helena the wife of Jannaeus, and contemporary with Christ.