But let us view it in another light. Let us assume that the Governor General believed that the Mohammedan preacher was innocent and that his "personal intentions" were not remotely hostile or treasonable, but felt that his preaching might stir up rebellion dangerous to the power of the American government in the Philippines; and that it was his duty as the guardian of American honor and security, to put the native preacher to death; and this not to punish past criminal conduct, but to prevent future trouble by a timely execution. Suppose that the Governor General should do this while sitting as a judge, would it not be judicial murder? Suppose that he should do it while acting as an administrator, would it be less an assassination? Would it not stamp with indelible shame the administration that should sanction or tolerate it? Would the press of America not denounce the act as murder, declare that despotism reigned in our Eastern possessions, and demand the removal and punishment of the man who had disgraced his office and brought odium upon the administrative justice of his country? In closing the Roman trial of Jesus, let us repeat what we have already said: that the conduct of Pilate, when the prisoner was first brought before him, seems to have been marked by judicial regularity and solemnity; that the Roman procurator seems to have deported himself in a manner worthy of his office; that, in the beginning, he appears to have resolved to observe due forms of law in the proceedings, to the end that justice might be attained; and that, after a comparatively regular trial, he pronounced an absolute verdict of acquittal. Thus far the course of Pilate is manly and courageous. But with the return of the prisoner from Herod, unmanliness and cowardice begin. This last act of the great drama presents a pitiable spectacle of Roman degeneracy. A Roman governor of courtly origin, clothed with _imperium_, with a Prætorian Cohort at his command, and the military authority and resources of an empire at his back, cringes and crouches before a Jerusalem mob. The early Christian writers characterized Pilate with a single term ([Greek: anandria]), "unmanliness." They were right. This word is a summary, accurate and complete, of the character of the man.