{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_12821/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_12821","id":"gutenberg_12821","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12821","summary":null,"tags":["Bible. New Testament -- History of Biblical events -- Fiction","Biographical fiction","Category: Novels","Jesus Christ -- Fiction"],"text":"THE BROOK KERITH\n\nA SYRIAN STORY\n\nBY GEORGE MOORE\n\n1916\n\n\n\n\n\nA DEDICATION\n\n\nMy dear Mary Hunter. It appears that you wished to give me a book for\nChristmas, but were in doubt what book to give me as I seemed to have\nlittle taste for reading, so in your embarrassment you gave me a Bible.\nIt lies on my table now with the date 1898 on the fly-leaf--my constant\ncompanion and chief literary interest for the last eighteen years.\nItself a literature, it has led me into many various literatures and\ninto the society of scholars.\n\nI owe so much to your Bible that I cannot let pass the publication of\n\"The Brook Kerith\" without thanking you for it again. Yours always,\nGeorge Moore.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BROOK KERITH\n\n\nCHAP. I.\n\n\nIt was at the end of a summer evening, long after his usual bedtime,\nthat Joseph, sitting on his grandmother's knee, heard her tell that Kish\nhaving lost his asses sent Saul, his son, to seek them in the land of\nthe Benjamites and the land of Shalisha, whither they might have\nstrayed. But they were not in these lands, Son, she continued, nor in\nZulp, whither Saul went afterwards, and being then tired out with\nlooking for them he said to the servant: we shall do well to forget the\nasses, lest my father should ask what has become of us. But the servant,\nbeing of a mind that Kish would not care to see them without the asses,\nsaid to young Saul: let us go up into yon city, for a great seer lives\nthere and he will be able to put us in the right way to come upon the\nasses. But we have little in our wallet to recompense him, Saul\nanswered, only half a loaf and a little wine at the end of the bottle.\nWe have more than that, the servant replied, and opening his hand he\nshowed a quarter of a shekel of silver to Saul, who said: he will take\nthat in payment. Whereupon they walked into Arimathea, casting their\neyes about for somebody to direct them to the seer's house. And seeing\nsome maidens at the well, come to draw water, they asked them if the\nseer had been in the city that day, and were answered that he had been\nseen and would offer sacrifice that morning, as had been announced. He\nmust be on his way now to the high rock, one of the maidens cried after\nthem, and they pressed through the people till none was in front of them\nbut an old man walking alone, likewise in the direction of the rock;\nand overtaking him they asked if he could point out the seer's house to\nthem, to which he answered sharply: I am the seer, and fell at once to\ngazing on Saul as if he saw in him the one that had been revealed to\nhim. For you see, Son, seers have foresight, and the seer had been\nwarned overnight that the Lord would send a young man to him, so the\nmoment he saw Saul he knew him to be the one the Lord had promised, and\nhe said: thou art he whom the Lord has promised to send me for\nanointment, but more than that I cannot tell thee, being on my way to\noffer sacrifice, but afterwards we will eat together, and all that has\nbeen revealed to me I will tell. You understand me, Son, the old woman\ncrooned, the Lord had been with Samuel beforetimes and had promised to\nsend the King of Israel to him for anointment, and the moment he laid\neyes on Saul he knew him to be the king; and that was why he asked him\nto eat with him after sacrifice. Yes, Granny, I understand: but did the\nLord set the asses astray that Saul might follow them and come to Samuel\nto be made a King? I daresay there was something like that at the bottom\nof it, the old woman answered, and continued her story till her knees\nached under the boy's weight.\n\nThe child's asleep, she said, and on the instant he awoke crying: no,\nGranny, I wasn't asleep. I heard all you said and would like to be a\nprophet. A prophet, Joseph, and to anoint a king? But there are no more\nprophets or kings in Israel. And now, Joseph, my little prophet, 'tis\nbedtime and past it. Come. I didn't say I wanted to anoint kings, he\nanswered, and refused to go to bed, though manifestly he could hardly\nkeep awake. I'll wait up for Father.\n\nNow what can the child want his father for at this hour? she muttered as\nshe went about the room, not guessing that he was angry and resentful,\nthat her words had wounded him deeply and that he was asking himself, in\nhis corner, if she thought him too stupid to be a prophet.\n\nI'll tell thee no more stories, she said to him, but he answered that he\ndid not want to hear her stories, and betwixt feelings of anger and\nshame his head drooped, and he slept in his chair till the door opened\nand his father's footsteps crossed the threshold.\n\nNow, he said to himself, Granny will tell Father that I said I'd like to\nbe a prophet. And feigning sleep he listened, determined to hear the\nworst that could be said of him. But they did not speak about him but of\nthe barrels of salt fish that were to go to Beth-Shemish on the morrow;\nwhich was their usual talk. So he slipped from his chair and bade his\nfather good-night. A resentful good-night it was; and his good-night to\nhis grandmother was still more resentful. But she found an excuse for\nhis rudeness, saying that his head was full of sleep--a remark that\nannoyed him considerably and sent him upstairs wishing that women would\nnot talk about things they do not understand. I'll ask Father in the\nmorning why Granny laughed at me for saying I'd like to be a prophet.\nBut as morning seemed still a long way ahead he tried to find a reason,\nbut could find no better one than that prophets were usually old men.\nBut I shall be old in time to come and have a beard. Father has a beard\nand they can't tell that I won't have a beard, and a white one too, so\nwhy should they--\n\nHis senses were numbing, and he must have fallen asleep soon after, for\nwhen he awoke it seemed to him that he had been asleep a long time,\nseveral hours at least, so many things had happened or seemed to have\nhappened; but as he recovered his mind all the dream happenings melted\naway, and he could remember only his mother. She had been dead four\nyears, but in his dream she looked as she had always looked, and had\nscolded Granny for laughing at him. He tried to remember what else she\nhad said but her words faded out of his mind and he fell asleep again.\nIn this second sleep an old man rose up by his bedside and told him that\nhe was the prophet Samuel, who though he had been dead a thousand years\nhad heard him say he would like to be a prophet. But shall I be a\nprophet? Joseph asked, and as Samuel did not answer he cried out as\nloudly as he could: shall I? shall I?\n\nWhat ails thee, Son? he heard his grandmother calling to him, and he\nanswered: an old man, an old man. Ye are dreaming, she mumbled between\nsleeping and waking. Go to sleep like a good boy, and don't dream any\nmore. I will, Granny, and don't be getting up; the bed-clothes don't\nwant settling. I am well tucked in, he pleaded; and fell asleep praying\nthat Granny had not heard him ask Samuel if he would be a prophet.\n\nA memory of his dream of Samuel came upon him while she dressed him, and\nhe hoped she had forgotten all about it; but his father mentioned at\nbreakfast that he had been awakened by cries. It was Joseph crying out\nin his dream, Dan, disturbed thee last night: such cries, \"Shall I?\nShall I?\" And when I asked \"What ails thee?\" the only answer I got was\n\"An old man.\"\n\nDan, Joseph's father, wondered why Joseph should seem so disheartened\nand why he should murmur so perfunctorily that he could not remember his\ndream. But if he had forgotten it, why trouble him further? If we are to\nforget anything it were well that we should choose our dreams; at which\npiece of incredulity his mother shook her head, being firm in the belief\nthat there was much sense in dreams and that they could be interpreted\nto the advantage of everybody.\n\nDan said: if that be so, let him tell thee his dream. But Joseph hung\nhis head and pushed his plate away; and seeing him so morose they left\nhim to his sulks and fell to talking of dreams that had come true.\nJoseph had never heard them speak of anything so interesting before, and\nthough he suspected that they were making fun of him he could not do\nelse than listen, till becoming convinced suddenly that they were\ntalking in good earnest without intention of fooling him he began to\nregret that he had said he had forgotten his dream, and rapped out: he\nwas the prophet Samuel. Now what are you saying, Joseph? his father\nasked. Joseph would not say any more, but it pleased him to observe that\nneither his father nor his granny laughed at his admission, and seeing\nhow interested they were in his dream he said: if you want to know all,\nSamuel said he had heard me say that I'd like to be a prophet. That was\nwhy he came back from the dead. But, Father, is it true that we are his\ndescendants? He said that I was.\n\nA most extraordinary dream, his father answered, for it has always been\nheld in the family that we are descended from him. Do you really mean,\nJoseph, that the old man you saw in your dream told you he was Samuel\nand that you were his descendant? How should I have known if he hadn't\ntold me? Joseph looked from one to the other and wondered why they had\nkept the secret of his ancestor from him. You laughed at me yesterday,\nGranny, when I said I'd like to be a prophet. Now what do you say?\nAnswer me that. And he continued to look from one to the other for an\nanswer. But neither had the wit to find an answer, so amazed were they\nat the news that the prophet Samuel had visited Joseph in a dream; and\nsatisfied at the impression he had made and a little frightened by their\nsilence Joseph stole out of the room, leaving his parents to place\nwhatever interpretation they pleased on his dream. Nor did he care\nwhether they believed he had spoken the truth. He was more concerned\nwith himself than with them, and conscious that something of great\nimportance had happened to him he ascended the stairs, pausing at every\nstep uncertain if he should return to ask for the whole of the story of\nSaul's anointment. It seemed to him to lack courtesy to return to the\nroom in which he had seen the prophet, till he knew these things. But he\ncould not return to ask questions: later he would learn what had\nhappened to Samuel and Saul, and he entered the room, henceforth to him\na sacred room, and stood looking through it, having all the\ncircumstances of his dream well in mind: he was lying on his left side\nwhen Samuel had risen up before him, and it was there, upon that spot,\nin that space he had seen Samuel. His ancestor had seemed to fade away\nfrom the waist downwards, but his face was extraordinarily clear in the\ndarkness, and Joseph tried to recall it. But he could only remember it\nas a face that a spirit might wear, for it was not made up of flesh but\nof some glowing matter or stuff, such as glow-worms are made of; nor\ncould he call it ugly or beautiful, for it was not of this world. He had\ndrawn the bed-clothes over his head, but--impelled he knew not why, for\nhe was nearly dead with fright--he had poked his head out to see if the\nface was still there. The lips did not move, but he had heard a voice.\nThe tones were not like any heard before, but he had listened to them\nall the same, and if he had not lost his wits again in an excess of fear\nhe would have put questions to Samuel: he would have put questions if\nhis tongue had not been tied back somewhere in the roof of his mouth.\nBut the next time he would not be frightened and pull the bed-clothes\nover his head.\n\nAnd convinced of his own courage he lay night after night thinking of\nall the great things he would ask the old man and of the benefit he\nwould derive from his teaching. But Samuel did not appear again, perhaps\nbecause the nights were so dark. Joseph was told the moon would become\nfull again, but sleep closed his eyes when he should have been waking,\nand in the morning he was full of fear that perhaps Samuel had come and\ngone away disappointed at not finding him awake. But that could not be,\nfor if the prophet had come he would have awakened him as he had done\nbefore. His ancestor had not come again: a reasonable thing to suppose,\nfor when the dead return to the earth they do so with much pain and\ndifficulty; and if the living, whom they come to instruct, cannot keep\ntheir eyes open, the poor dead wander back and do not try to come\nbetween their descendants and their fate again.\n\nBut I will keep awake, he said, and resorted to all sorts of devices,\nkeeping up a repetition of a little phrase: he will come to-night when\nthe moon is full; and lying with one leg hanging out of bed; and these\nproving unavailing he strewed his bed with crumbs. But no ancestor\nappeared, and little by little he relinquished hope of ever being able\nto summon Samuel to his bedside, and accepted as an explanation of his\npersistent absence that Samuel had performed his duty by coming once to\nvisit him and would not come again unless some new necessity should\narise. It was then that the conviction began to mount into his brain\nthat he must learn all that his grandmother could tell him about Saul\nand David, and learning from her that they had been a great trouble to\nSamuel he resolved never to allow a thought into his mind that the\nprophet would deem unworthy. To become worthy of his ancestor was now\nhis aim, and when he heard that Samuel was the author of two sacred\nbooks it seemed to him that his education had been neglected: for he had\nnot yet been taught to read. Another step in his advancement was the\ndiscovery that the language his father, his granny and himself spoke was\nnot the language spoken by Samuel, and every day he pressed his\ngrandmother to tell him why the Jews had lost their language in Babylon,\ntill he exhausted the old woman's knowledge and she said: well now, Son,\nif you want to hear any more about Babylon you must ask your father, for\nI have told you all I know. And Joseph waited eagerly for his father to\ncome home, and plagued him to tell him a story.\n\nBut after a long day spent in the counting-house his father was often\ntoo tired to take him on his knee and instruct him, for Joseph's\ncuriosity was unceasing and very often wearisome. Now, Joseph, his\nfather said, you will learn more about these things when you are older.\nAnd why not now? he asked, and his grandmother answered that it was\nchange of air that he wanted and not books; and they began to speak of\nthe fierce summer that had taken the health out of all of them, and of\nhow necessary it was for a child of that age to be sent up to the hills.\n\nDan looked into his son's face, and Rachel seemed to be right. A thin,\nwan little face, that the air of the hills will brighten, he said; and\nhe began at once to make arrangements for Joseph's departure for a hill\nvillage, saying that the pastoral life of the hills would take his mind\noff Samuel, Hebrew and Babylon. Rachel was doubtful if the shepherds\nwould absorb Joseph's mind as completely as his father thought. She\nhoped, however, that they would. As soon as he hears the sound of the\npipe, his father answered. A prophecy this was, for while Joseph was\nresting after the fatigue of the journey, he was awakened suddenly by a\nsound he had never heard before, and one that interested him strangely.\nHis nurse told him that the sound he was hearing was a shepherd's pipe.\nThe shepherd plays and the flock follows, she said. And when may I see\nthe flock coming home with the shepherd? he asked. To-morrow evening,\nshe answered, and the time seemed to him to loiter, so eager was he to\nsee the flocks returning and to watch the she-goat milked.\n\nAnd in the spring as his strength came back he followed the shepherds\nand heard from them many stories of wolves and dogs, and from a shepherd\nlad, whom he had chosen as a companion, he acquired knowledge of the\nplumage and the cries and the habits of birds, and whither he was to\nseek their nests: it had become his ambition to possess all the wild\nbirds' eggs, one that was easily satisfied till he came to the egg of\nthe cuckoo, which he sought in vain, hearing of it often, now here, now\nthere, till at last he and the shepherd lad ventured into a dangerous\ncountry in search of it and remained there till news of their absence\nreached Magdala and Dan set out in great alarm with an armed escort to\nrecover his son. He was very angry when he came upon him, but the\ntrouble he had been put to and the ransom he had had to pay were very\nsoon forgotten, so great was his pleasure at the strong healthy boy he\nbrought back with him, and whose first question to Rachel was: are there\ncuckoos in Magdala?--Father doesn't know. His grandmother could not tell\nhim, but she was willing to make inquiries, but before any news of the\negg had been gotten the hope to possess it seemed to have drifted out of\nJoseph's mind and to seem even a little foolish when he looked into his\nbox, for many of his egg shells had been broken on the journey. See,\nGranny, he said, but on second thoughts he refused to show his chipped\npossessions. But thou wast once as eager to learn Hebrew, his\ngrandmother said, and the chance words, spoken as she left the room,\nawakened his suspended interests. As soon as she returned she was beset\nby questions, and the same evening his father had to promise that the\nbest scribe in Galilee should be engaged to teach him: a discussion\nbegan between Dan and Rachel as to the most notable and trustworthy, and\nit was followed by Joseph so eagerly that they could not help laughing;\nthe questions he put to them regarding the different accomplishments of\nthe scribes were very minute, and the phrase--But this one is a Greek\nscholar, stirred his curiosity. Why should he be denied me because he\nknows Greek? he asked, and his father could only answer that no one can\nlearn two languages at the same time. But if he knows two languages,\nJoseph insisted. I cannot tell thee more, his father answered, than that\nthe scribe I've chosen is a great Hebrew scholar.\n\nHe was no doubt a great scholar, but he was not the man that Joseph\nwished for: thin and tall and of gentle appearance and demeanour, he did\nnot stir up a flame for work in Joseph, who, as soon as the novelty of\nlearning Hebrew had worn off, began to hide himself in the garden. His\nfather caught him one day sitting in a convenient bough, looking down\nupon his preceptor fairly asleep on a bench; and after this adventure he\nbegan to make a mocking stock of his preceptor, inventing all kinds of\ncruelties, and his truancy became so constant that his father was forced\nto choose another. This time a younger man was chosen, but he succeeded\nwith Joseph not very much better than the first. After the second there\ncame a third, and when Joseph began to complain of his ignorance his\nfather said:\n\nWell, Joseph, you said you wanted to learn Hebrew, and you have shown no\napplication, and three of the most learned scribes in Galilee have been\ncalled in to teach you.\n\nJoseph felt the reproof bitterly, but he did not know how to answer his\nfather and he was grateful to his grandmother for her answer. Joseph\nisn't an idle boy, Dan, but his nature is such that he cannot learn from\na man he doesn't like. Why don't ye give him Azariah as an instructor?\nHas he been speaking to thee about Azariah? Dan asked. Maybe, she said,\nand Dan's face clouded.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. II.\n\n\n\nWe are to understand, Son, Dan said, on hearing that the fourth\npreceptor whom he had engaged to teach his son Hebrew had failed to give\nsatisfaction, that you cannot learn from anybody but Azariah. Now, will\nyou tell us what there is in Azariah more than in Shimshai, Benaiah or\nZebad? and he waited for his son to speak, but as Joseph did not answer\nhe asked: is it because he looks more like a prophet than any of the\nothers? And Joseph, who still dreaded any allusion to prophets, turned\ninto his corner mortified. But Rachel came forward directly and taking\nthe child by the shoulders led him back to his father, asking Dan with a\ntrace of anger in her voice why he should think it strange that the\nchild should prefer to learn from Azariah rather than from a withered\npatriarch who never could keep his eyes open but always sat dozing in\nhis chair like one in a dream.\n\nIt wasn't, Granny, because he went to sleep often; I could have kept him\nawake by kicking him under the table. Joseph stopped suddenly and looked\nfrom one to the other. Why then? his father asked, and on being pressed\nto say why he didn't want to learn Hebrew he said he had come to hate\nHebrew, an admission which rendered his parents speechless for a moment.\nCome to hate Hebrew, they repeated one after the other till frightened\nby their solemnity Joseph blurted out: you wouldn't like Hebrew if the\nscholar's fleas jumped on to you the moment you began. And pulling up\nhis sleeves Joseph exhibited his arms. How could I learn Hebrew with\nthree fleas biting me and all at one time, one here, another there and a\nthird down yonder. He always has three or four about him. No, Father,\ndon't, don't ask me to learn Hebrew any more. But, Joseph, all Hebrew\nscholars haven't fleas about them. An unbelieving face confronted them,\nand Joseph looked as if he were uncertain whether he should laugh or\ncry: but seeing that his parents liked his story he began to laugh.\nWe've tried several preceptors but you're hard to please, Joseph. Now\nwhat fault did you find with--and while Dan searched his memory for the\nname Joseph interjected that the little fellow whose back bulged like\nGranny's chest wouldn't let him read the interesting parts of the\nScriptures but kept him always at the Psalms and the Proverbs. And he\nwas always telling me about Hillel, who was a good man, but good men\naren't as interesting as prophets, Joseph rapped out. And wilt thou tell\nus what he told thee about these pious men? Dan asked, a smile playing\nabout his long thin mouth. That the law didn't matter as long as we were\nvirtuous, Joseph muttered, and he was always explaining the stories that\nI understood quite well when Granny told them. So it was Hiram that\nconfirmed you in your distaste for Hebrew, Dan said, and the child stood\nlooking at his father, not quite sure if it would be in his interest to\naccept or repudiate the suggestion. He would have refused to give a\ndirect answer (such is the way of children) but the servant relieved him\nof his embarrassment: Azariah was at the gate asking for shelter from\nthe rain.\n\nFrom the rain! Dan said, rising suddenly. It is coming down very fast,\nMother, but we were so engaged in listening to Joseph that we didn't\nhear it. Shall we ask him in, Joseph? The child's face lighted up. Now\nisn't it strange, Rachel said, he should be here to-day? We haven't seen\nhim for months, and now in the middle of a talk about tutors--aren't you\ngoing to ask him in? Of course, Dan said, and he instructed the servant\nto ask the scribe to come upstairs. And now, Joseph, I hope you'll\nlisten to all that Azariah says, giving quiet and reasonable answers.\nAnd not too many questions, mind!\n\nJoseph promised to be good and quiet and to keep himself from putting\nquestions. I will listen attentively, he said, and he seized on the last\nchance available to his tongue to tell that he had often seen Azariah in\nthe lanes. He doesn't see us, he walks like one in a dream, his hair\nblowing in the wind. But when he does see us he speaks very kindly ... I\nthink I'd like to learn Hebrew from him. Rachel laid her finger on her\nlips; the door opened and Azariah advanced into the room with a long\ngrave Jewish stride, apologising to Dan as he came for his sudden\nintrusion into their midst, mentioning the heavy rain in a graceful\nphrase. Joseph, who was on the watch for everything, could see that his\nfather was full of respect for Azariah, and hearing him say that it was\nsome years since Azariah had been in his house he began to wonder if\nthere had been a quarrel between them; it seemed to him that his father\nwas a little afraid of Azariah, which was strange, for he himself did\nnot feel in the least afraid of Azariah but an almost uncontrollable\ndesire to go and sit on his knee.\n\nHere is my boy Joseph: and, Azariah, you will be interested to hear that\nwe were talking about you for the last quarter of an hour.\n\nAzariah raised his thick eyebrows and waited to be told how he had come\nto be the subject of their talk, though he half knew the reason, for in\na village like Magdala it soon gets about that four preceptors have been\nsent away unable to teach the rich man's son. He has made up his mind,\nDan said, to learn Hebrew and Greek from none but you. No, Father, I\ndidn't make up my mind. But I couldn't learn from the others and I told\nyou why. Are you sure that you can learn from me? Azariah asked. Joseph\nbecame shy at once, but he liked to feel Azariah's friendly hand upon\nhis shoulder, and when Dan asked the scribe to be seated Joseph followed\nhim, and standing beside his chair asked him if he would teach him\nHebrew, a question Azariah did not answer. You will teach me, he\ninsisted, and Dan and Rachel kept silence, so that they might better\nobserve Joseph working round Azariah with questions; and they were\namused, for Joseph's curiosity had overcome his shyness; and, quite\nforgetful of his promise to listen and not to talk, he had begun to beg\nthe scribe to tell him if the language they spoke had been brought back\nfrom Babylon, and how long it was since people had ceased to speak\nHebrew. Azariah set himself to answer these questions; Joseph gave him\nclose attention, and when Azariah ceased speaking he said: when may I\nbegin my lessons? And he put the question so innocently that his father\ncould not help laughing. But, Joseph, he said, Azariah has not yet\npromised to teach you, and I wouldn't advise him to try to teach a boy\nthat has refused to learn from four preceptors. But it will be different\nwith you, Sir, Joseph murmured, taking Azariah's hand. You will teach\nme, won't you? When will you begin?\n\nAzariah answered that it could not be this week, for he was going to\nArimathea. The town we came from, Dan said. I am still known as Dan of\nArimathea, though I have lived here twenty years. I too shall be known\nas Joseph of Arimathea, Joseph interjected. I'd like to be Joseph of\nArimathea much better than Joseph of Magdala.\n\nYou needn't shake your head at Magdala, Dan said. Magdala has done well\nfor us. To which Joseph answered nothing, but it was not long, however,\nbefore he went to his father saying that he would like to go to\nArimathea, and in charge of Azariah.\n\nYou are asking too much, Joseph, his father answered him. No, I don't\nthink I am, and his honour Azariah doesn't think so, Joseph cried, for\nhis heart was already set upon this holiday. Azariah has perhaps\npromised to teach you Hebrew. Isn't that enough? his father remarked.\nNow you want him to take you to Arimathea. But if he likes to take me,\nJoseph replied, and he cast such a winning glance at Azariah that the\nscribe was moved to say that he would be glad to take charge of the boy\nif his parents would confide him to his care. Whereupon Joseph threw his\narms about his father, but finding him somewhat indifferent he went to\nhis grandmother, who welcomed his embrace, and in return for it pleaded\nthat the boy should not be denied this small pleasure. But Dan, who only\nhalf liked to part with his son, tried to hide his feelings from his\nmother, who had guessed them already, with a joke, saying to Azariah\nthat he was a brave man to undertake the charge of so wayward a boy. I\nshall not spoil him, and if he fails to obey he'll have to find someone\nelse to teach him Hebrew, Azariah answered. I think the rain is now\nover, he said. Some drops were still falling but the sky was\nbrightening, and he returned from the window to where Joseph was\nstanding, and laying his hand on his head promised to come for him in\nthe morning.\n\nWe shall hear no more about fleas preventing thee from study, Dan said\nto his son, and very much offended Joseph withdrew to his room, and\nstood looking at the spot in which he had seen Samuel, asking himself if\nthe prophet would appear to him in Arimathea and if it would be by the\nfountain whither the maidens used to come to draw water. Samuel and the\nmaidens seemed to jar a little, and as he could not think of them\ntogether he fell to thinking of the rock on which the seer used to offer\nsacrifices. It was still there and somebody would be about to direct\nthem to it, and it would be under this rock that Azariah would read to\nhim all that Samuel had said to Saul. But we shall be riding all day, he\nsaid to himself, Arimathea must be a long long way from here, and he\nfled downstairs to ask his father if Azariah would call for him at the\nhead of a caravan, whether he would ride on a camel or a mule or a\nhorse: he thought he would like to ride a camel, and awoke many times in\nthe night, once rolling out of his bed, for in a dream the ungainly\nanimal had jolted him from off his hump.\n\nAnd the old woman's patience was nigh exhausted when he cried: Granny,\nit is day, and bade her leave her bed and come to the window to tell him\nif day were not breaking; but she answered: get thee back to thy bed,\nfor 'tis the moon shining down the sky, simpleton. The sun won't give\nway an hour to the moon nor the moon an hour to the sun because thou'rt\ngoing to Arimathea. And methinks, Joseph, that to some the morrow is\nalways better than to-day, and yesterday better than either,--a remark\nthat puzzled Joseph and kept him from his rest. Didst never hear,\nJoseph, that it is a clever chicken that crows in the egg? the old woman\ncontinued, and who knows but Azariah will forget to come for thee! He\nwon't forget, Granny, Joseph uttered in so doleful a tone that Rachel\nrepented and promised Joseph she would wake him in time; and as she had\nnever failed to keep her promise to him he allowed sleep to close his\neyelids. And once asleep he was hard to awaken. At six in the morning\nsleep seemed to him better than Arimathea, but once awake Rachel could\nnot hand him his clothes fast enough; he escaped from her hands,\ndressing himself as he ran into the lanes, and while tying his sandals\nat the gate he forgot them and stood at gaze, wondering whether Azariah\nwould come to fetch him on a horse or an ass or a mule or a camel.\n\nAt last the sound of hooves came through the dusk, and a moment after\nsome three or four camels led the way; and there were horses too and\nasses and mules, and the mules were caparisoned gaily, the one reserved\nfor Joseph's riding more richly than the others--a tall fine animal by\nwhich he was proud to stand, asking questions of the muleteer, while\nadmiring the dark docile eyes shaded with black lashes. Now why do we\ndelay? he asked Azariah, who reminded him--and somewhat tritely--that he\nhad not yet said good-bye to his parents. But they know I'm going with\nyou, Sir, he answered. Azariah would not, however, allow Joseph to mount\nhis mule till he had bidden good-bye to his father and grandmother, and\nhe brought the boy back to the house, but without earning Dan's\napproval, who was ashamed before Azariah of his son's eagerness to leave\nhome; a subtlety that escaped Rachel who chided Dan saying: try to\nremember if it wasn't the same with thee, for I can remember thine eyes\nsparkling at the sight of a horse and thy knees all of an itch to be on\nto him. Well, said Dan, he'll have enough riding before the day is over,\nand I reckon his little backside will be sore before they halt at the\ngates of Arimathea; a remark that caused Rachel to turn amazed eyes on\nher son and to answer harshly that since he had so much foresight she\nhoped he had not forgotten to tell Azariah that Joseph must have a long\nrest at midday. But thy face tells me no order has been given for the\ncare of the child on the journey. But Azariah cannot be far on his way.\nI'll send a messenger to caution him that Joseph has his rest in the\nshade.\n\nDan let her go in search of the messenger and moved around the room\nhoping (he knew not why) that the messenger would not overtake the\ncaravan, the which he very nearly missed doing, for while Rachel was\ninstructing the messenger, Joseph was asking Azariah if he might have a\nstick to belabour his mule into a gallop. The cavalcade, he said, needed\na scout that would report any traces of robbers he might detect among\nthe rocks and bushes. But we aren't likely to meet robber bands this\nside of Jordan, Azariah said, they keep to the other side; and he told\nJoseph, who was curious about everything, that along the Jordan were\ngreat marshes into which the nomads drove their flocks and herds in the\nspring to feed on the young grass. So they are there now, Joseph replied\nmeditatively, for he was thinking he would like better to ride through\nmarshes full of reeds than through a hilly country where there was\nnothing to see but the barley-fields beset by an occasional olive garth.\nBut hooves were heard galloping in the rear and when the messenger\novertook the caravan and blurted out Rachel's instructions, Joseph's\nface flushed. Now what can a woman know, he cried, about a journey like\nthis? Tell her, he said, turning to the messenger, that I shall ride and\nrest with the others. And as an earnest of his resolve he struck the\nmessenger's horse so sharply across the quarters that the animal's head\nwent down between his knees and he plunged so violently that the\nmessenger was cast sprawling upon the ground. The cavalcade roared with\nlaughter and Joseph, overjoyed at the success of his prank, begged\nAzariah to wait a little longer, for he was curious to see if the\nmessenger would succeed in coaxing his horse. At present the horse\nseemed in no humour to allow himself to be mounted. Whenever the\nmessenger approached he whinnied so menacingly that everybody laughed\nagain. Is there none amongst ye that will help me to catch the horse?\nthe poor messenger cried after the departing travellers. We have a long\nday's march in front of us, Azariah said; and he warned Joseph not to\nbeat his mule into a gallop at the beginning of the journey or he would\nrepent it later, words that came true sooner than Joseph had expected,\nfor before midday he was asking how many miles would bring them to the\ncaravansary. In about another hour, Azariah answered, and Joseph said he\nhad begun to hate his mule for it would neither trot nor gallop, only\nwalk. Thou'rt thinking of the nomads and would like to be after them\nflourishing a lance, Azariah said, and--afraid that he was being laughed\nat--Joseph made no answer.\n\nAfter the rest at midday it seemed to him to be his duty to see that his\nmule had been properly fed, and he bought some barley from the\ncamel-driver, but while he was giving it to his mule Azariah remarked\nthat he was only depriving other animals of their fair share of\nprovender. It is hard, he said, to do good without doing wrong to\nanother. But the present is no time for philosophy: we must start again.\nAnd the cavalcade moved on through the hills, avoiding the steep ascents\nand descents by circuitous paths, and Joseph, who had not seen a\nshepherd leading his flock for some years, became all of a sudden\ndelighted by the spectacle, the sheep running forward scenting the fresh\nherbage with which the hills were covered as with dark velvet.\n\nA little later they came into view of a flock of goats browsing near a\nwood, and Azariah sought to improve the occasion by a little\ndissertation on the destructive nature of the goat. Of late years a\nsapling rarely escaped them, and still more regrettable was the\ncarelessness of the shepherd who left the branches they had torn down to\nbecome dry like tinder. He spoke of many forest fires, and told all the\nstories he could remember in the hope of distracting Joseph's thoughts\nfrom the length of the journey. We are now about half-way, he said,\ndisguising the truth. We shall see the city upon the evening glow in\nabout another hour. The longest hour that I have ever known, Joseph\ncomplained two hours later; and Azariah laid his cloak over Joseph's\nsaddle. Dost feel more comfortable? A little, the child answered. At the\nsight of the city thy heart will be lifted again and the suffering\nforgotten. And Joseph believed him, but towards the end of the day the\nmiles seemed to stretch out indefinitely and at five o'clock he was\ncrying: shall we ever get to Arimathea, for I can sit on this mule no\nlonger, nor shall I be able to stand straight upon my legs when I\nalight.\n\nAzariah promised they would be at the gates in a few minutes, but these\nfew minutes seemed as if they would never pass away, but they did pass,\nand at the gateway Joseph toppled from his mule and just managed to\nhobble into the inn at which they were to sleep that night: too tired to\neat, he said, too tired, he feared, to sleep. Azariah pressed him to\nswallow a cup of soup and he prepared a hot bath for him into which he\npoured a bottle of vinegar; an excellent remedy he reported this to be\nagainst stiffness, and it showed itself to be such: for next morning\nJoseph was quite free from stiffness and said he could walk for miles.\nSamuel's rock cannot be more than a few hundred yards distant, so miles\nare not necessary, Azariah answered, as they stepped over the threshold\ninto a delightful morning all smiles and greetings and subtle\ninvitations to come away into the forest and fields, full of promises of\nflowers and songs, but in conflict with their project, which was to\ninquire out their way from the maidens at the fountain, who would be\nsure to know it, and in its shade to read the story of David and Goliath\nfirst and other stories afterwards. But the gay morning drew their\nthoughts away from texts, and without being aware of their apostasy they\nhad already begun to indulge in hopes that the maidens would be late at\nthe fountain and leave them some time to loiter by the old aqueduct that\nbrought the water in a tiny stream to fall into a marble trough: an\nerstwhile sarcophagus, maybe, Azariah said, as he gathered some water\nout of it with his hands and drank, telling Joseph to do likewise.\n\nThere were clouds in the sky, so the sun kept coming and going. A great\nlantern, Joseph said. That God holds in his hands, Azariah answered; and\nwhen tired of waiting for maidens who did not appear their beguilement\nwas continued by shadows advancing and retreating across the roadway.\nThe town was an enchantment in the still limpid morning, but when they\nrose to their feet their eyes fell on a greater enchantment--the hills\nclothed in moving light and shade so beautiful that the appeal to come\naway to the woods and fields continued in their hearts after they had\nlowered their eyes and would not be denied, though they prayed for\nstrength to adhere to their original project. It had died out of their\nhearts through no fault of theirs, as far as they could see; and\nwondering how they might get remission from it they strode about the\ncity, idly casting their eyes into ravines whither the walls dropped,\nand raising them to the crags whither the walls rose: faithful servants,\nAzariah said, that have saved the city many times from robbers from the\nother side of Jordan.\n\nJoseph's thoughts were far away on the hillside opposite amid the woods,\nand Azariah's voice jarred. By this time, he said, the maidens are\ndrawing water. But perhaps, Joseph answered, none will be able to tell\nus the way to the rock, and if none has heard for certain on which rock\nSamuel offered sacrifice we might go roaming over the hills and into\nforests yonder to find perhaps some wolf cubs in a cave. But a she-wolf\nwith cubs is dangerous, Azariah replied. If we were to try to steal her\ncubs, Joseph interjected. But we don't want to meddle with them, only to\nsee them. May we go roaming to-day, Sir, and read the story of David and\nGoliath to-morrow? The boy's voice was full of entreaty and Azariah had\nvery little heart to disappoint him, but he dared not break an\nengagement which he looked upon as almost sacred; and walked debating\nwith himself, asking himself if the absence of a maiden at the fountain\nmight be taken as a sign that they were free to abandon the Scriptures\nfor the day, only for the day. And seeing the fountain deserted Joseph\ncried out in his heart: we are free! But as they turned aside to go\ntheir way a maiden came with a pitcher upon her head; but as she had\nnever heard of the rock, nor indeed of Samuel, Joseph was certain that\nGod had specially designed her ignorant, so that they might know that\nthe day before them was for enjoyment. You said, Sir, that if none could\ndirect us we might leave the story until to-morrow. I did not say that,\nAzariah answered. All the same he did not propose to wait for another\nmaiden more learned than the first, but followed Joseph to the gates of\nthe city, nor did he raise any objection to passing through them, and\nthey stood with their eyes fixed on the path that led over the brow down\ninto the valley, a crooked twisting path that had seemed steep to\nAzariah's mule overnight and that now seemed steeper to Azariah. And\nwill seem still steeper to me in the evening when we return home tired,\nhe said. But we shall not be tired, Joseph interposed, we need not go\nvery far, only a little way into the forest. And he did not dare to say\nmore, lest by some careless word he might provoke an unpremeditated\nopposition.\n\nHe dreaded to hear the words on Azariah's lips: you have come here with\nme to learn Hebrew and may not miss a lesson.... If he could persuade\nAzariah into the path he would not turn back until they reached the\nvalley, and once in the valley, he might as well ascend the opposite\nhill as go back and climb up the hill whence they had come. I am afraid,\nsaid Azariah, that this cool morning will pass into a very hot day: the\nclouds that veil the sky are dispersing. We shall not feel the heat once\nwe are in the forest, Joseph replied, and the path up yonder hill is not\nso steep as the paths we go down by. You see the road, Sir, twisting up\nthe hillside, and it is planned so carefully to avoid a direct ascent\nthat a man has just belaboured his ass into a trot. They have passed\nbehind a rock, but we shall see them presently.\n\nAzariah waited a moment for the man and ass to reappear, but after all\nhe was not much concerned with them, and began to descend unmindful of\nthe lark which mounted the sky in circles singing his delirious song.\nJoseph begged Azariah to hearken, but his preceptor was too much\noccupied with the difficulties of the descent, nor could he be persuaded\nto give much attention to a flight of doves flying hither and thither as\nif they had just discovered that they could fly, diving and wheeling\nand then going away in a great company, coming back and diving again,\nsetting Joseph wondering why one bird should separate himself from the\nflock and alight again. Again and again this happened, the flock\nreturning to release him from his post. Were the birds playing a sort of\ngame? Frolicking they were, for sure, and Joseph felt he would like to\nhave wings and go away with them, and he wished Azariah would hasten, so\npleasant it was in the valley.\n\nA pleasant spacious valley it was, lying between two hills of about\nequal height: the hill they had come down was a little steeper than the\nhill they were about to go up. Joseph noticed the shadows that fell from\nthe cliffs and those that the tall feathery trees, growing out of the\nscrub, cast over the sunny bottom of the valley, a water-course probably\nin the rainy season; and he enjoyed the little puffing winds that came\nand went, and the insects that came out of their hiding-places to enjoy\nthe morning. The dragonflies were bustling about their business: what it\nwas not easy to discover, but they went by in companies of small flies,\nwith now and then a great one that rustled past on gauzy wings. And the\nbees were coming and going from their hive in the rocks, incited by the\nfragrance of the flowers, and Joseph watched them crawling over the\nanemones and leaving them hastily to bury their blunt noses in the\npistils of the white squills that abounded everywhere in the corners, in\nthe inlets and bays and crevices of the rocks. Butterflies, especially\nthe white, pursued love untiringly in the air, fluttering and hovering,\nuniting and then separating--aerial wooings that Joseph followed with\nstrained eyes, till at last the white bloom passed out of sight; and he\nturned to the dragonflies, hoping to capture one of the fearful kind,\noften nearly succeeding, but failing at the last moment and returning\ndisappointed to Azariah who, seated on a comfortable stone, waited till\nJoseph's ardour should abate a little. These stones will be too hot in\nanother hour, he said. But it will be cool enough under the boughs,\nJoseph answered. Perhaps too cool, Azariah muttered, and Joseph wondered\nif it were reasonable to be so discontented with the world, especially\non a morning like this, he said to himself; and to hearten Azariah he\nmentioned again that the path up the hillside zigzagged. You'll not feel\nthe ascent, Sir. To which encouragement Azariah made no answer but drew\nJoseph's attention to the industry of the people of Arimathea. The eager\nboy could spare only a few moments for the beauty of the fig and\nmulberry leaves showing against the dark rocks, but he snuffed the scent\nthe breeze bore and said it was the same that had followed them\nyesterday. The scent of the vine-flower, Azariah rejoined. The hillsides\nwere covered with the pale yellow clusters. But I thought, Joseph, that\nyou were too tired yesterday to notice anything. Only towards the end of\nthe journey, Joseph muttered. But what are you going to do, Sir? he\nasked. I am going to run up the hill. You may run if you please, the\npreceptor answered, and as he followed the boy at a more leisurely pace\nhe wondered at Joseph's spindle shanks struggling manfully against the\nascent. He will stop before the road turns, he said, but Joseph ran on.\nHe is anxious to reach the top, Azariah pondered. There is some pleasant\nturf up there full of flowers: he'll like to roll like a young donkey,\nhis heels in the air, Azariah said to himself as he ascended the steep\npath, stopping from time to time that he might better ponder on the\nmoral of this spring morning. He will roll among the grass and flowers\nlike a young donkey, and then run hither and thither after insects and\nbirds, his heart aflame with delight. He desires so many things that he\nknows not what he desires, only that he desires. Whereas I can but\nremember that once I was as he is to-day. So the spring is sad for the\nyoung as well as for the old.\n\nBut old as he was he was glad to feel that he was still liable to the\nseason's thrill in retrospect at least, and he asked himself questions:\nhow many years ago is it since...? But he did not get further with his\nrecollections. The ascent is too steep, he said, and he continued the\nascent thinking of his breath rather than of her.\n\nJoseph stood waiting on the edge of the rocks and cried out in the\nfulness of his joy on seeing his preceptor appear above the cliff, and\nat once fell to rolling himself over and over. Just as I expected he\nwould, Azariah remarked to himself. And then, starting to his feet,\nJoseph began gathering flowers, but in a little while he stood still,\nhis nosegay dropping flower by flower, for his thoughts had taken\nflight. The doves, the doves! he cried, looking into the blue and white\nsky. The doves have their nests in the woods, the larks build in the\ngrass he said, and asked Azariah to come with him. The nest was on a\ntuft of grass. But I've not touched them, he said. Three years ago I\nused to rob all the nests and blow the eggs, you see, for I was making a\ncollection. Azariah asked him if the lark would grieve for her eggs, and\nJoseph answered that he supposed she would soon forget them. Hark to his\nsinging! and he ran on into the outskirts of the woods, coming back a\nfew minutes afterwards to ask Azariah to hasten, for the wood was more\nbeautiful than any wood he had ever seen. And if you know the trees in\nwhich the doves build I will climb and get the nest. Doves build in\ntaller trees than these, in fir-trees, Azariah answered. But this is a\npretty wood, Joseph. And he looked round the quiet sunny oak wood and\nbegan his relation that this wood was probably the remains of the\nancient forests that had covered the country when the Israelites came\nout of the north of Arabia. How long ago was that, Sir? Joseph asked,\nand Azariah hazarded the answer that it might be as many as fifteen\nhundred years ago. How old is the oldest oak-tree? Joseph inquired, and\nAzariah had again to hazard the answer that a thousand years would make\nan old tree. And when will these trees be in leaf, Sir, and may we come\nto Arimathea when they are in leaf? And look, somebody has been felling\ntrees here. Who do you think it was, Sir? Azariah looked round. The\nforest must have been supplying the city with firewood for many years,\nhe said. All these trees are young and they are too regularly spaced for\na natural growth. But higher up the hills the woods are denser and\ndarker, and there we may find some old trees. Any badgers and foxes?\nJoseph asked, and shall we see any wolves?\n\nThe sunny woods were threaded with little paths, and Joseph cast curious\neyes upon them all. The first led him into bracken so deep that he did\nnot venture farther, and the second took him to the verge of a dark\nhollow so dismal that he came running back to ask if there were\ncrocodiles in the waters he had discovered. He did not give his\npreceptor time to answer the difficult question, but laid his hand upon\nhis arm and whispered that he was to look between two rocks, for a\njackal was there, slinking away--turning his pointed muzzle to us now\nand then. To see he isn't followed, Azariah added: and the observation\nendeared him so to Joseph that the boy walked for a moment pensively in\nthe path they were following. It turned into the forest, and they had\nnot gone very far before they became aware of a strange silence, if\nsilence it could be called, for when they listened the silence was full\nof sound, innumerable little sounds, some of which they recognised; but\nit was not the hum of the insects or the chirp of a bird or the\nsnapping of a rotten twig that filled Joseph with awe, but something\nthat he could neither see, nor hear, nor smell, nor touch. The life of\nthe trees--is that it? he asked himself. A remote and mysterious life\nwas certainly breathing about him, and he regretted he was without a\nsense to apprehend this life.\n\nAgain and again it seemed that the forest was about to whisper its\nsecret, but something always happened to interrupt. Once it was\ncertainly Azariah's fault, for just as the trees were about to speak he\npicked up a leaf and began to explain how the shape of an oak leaf\ndiffered from that of the leaf of the chestnut and the ash. A patter was\nheard among the leaves. There she goes--a hare! Joseph said, and a\nmoment afterwards a white thing appeared. A white weasel, Azariah said.\nShall we follow him? Joseph asked, and Azariah answered that it would be\nuseless to follow. We should soon miss them in the thickets. And he\ncontinued his discourse upon trees, hoping that Joseph would never again\nmistake a sycamore for a chestnut. And what is that tree so dark and\ngloomy rising up through all the other trees, Joseph asked, so much\nhigher than any of them? That is a cedar, Azariah said. Do doves build\nin cedars? Azariah did not know, and the tree did not inspire a climb:\nit seemed to forbid any attempt on its privacy. Do trees talk when they\nare alone? Joseph asked Azariah, and his preceptor gave the very\nsensible answer that the life of trees is unknown to us, but that trees\nhad always awakened religious emotions in men. The earliest tribes were\ntree-worshippers, which was very foolish, for we can fell trees and put\nthem to our usage.\n\nThey had come to a part of the forest in which there seemed to be\nneither birds nor beasts and Joseph had begun to feel the forest a\nlittle wearisome and to wish for a change, when the trees suddenly\nstopped, and before them lay a sunny interspace full of tall grass with\nhere and there a fallen tree, and on these trees prone great lizards\nsunned themselves, nodding their heads in a motion ever the same.\nSomething had died in that beautiful interspace, for a vulture rose\nsullenly and went away over the top of the trees, and Azariah begged\nJoseph not to pursue his search but to hasten out of the smell of the\ncarrion that a little breeze had just carried towards them. Besides,\nthis thick grass is full of snakes, he said, and the words were no\nsooner out of his mouth than a snake issued from a thick tuft, stopped\nand hissed. Snakes feed on mice and rats? Joseph asked, and come out of\ntheir holes to catch them, isn't that so, Sir? Everything is out this\nsunny morning, seeking its food, Azariah answered: snakes after mice,\nvultures after carrion. This way, Joseph--yonder we may rest awhile, but\nwe must be careful not to sit upon a snake; that knoll yonder is free\nfrom vermin, for the trees that grow about it are fir-trees and snakes\ndo not like any place where they can easily be detected. And they sat on\nthe fibrous ground and looked up into the darkness of the withered\npines--withered everywhere except in the topmost branches that alone\ncaught the light. A sad place to sit in, Joseph said. Don't you feel the\nsadness, Sir? Azariah answered that he did. But it is preferable to\nsnake-bites, he added. At that moment slowly flapping wings were heard\noverhead. It is the vulture returning, Azariah whispered to Joseph, and\nhe is bringing a comrade back to dinner. To a very smelly dinner, Joseph\nrejoined. The breeze had veered suddenly and they found themselves again\nin the smell of carrion.\n\nWe must go on farther, Azariah said, and after passing into many quiet\nhollows and ascending many crests the path to which they had remained\nfaithful debouched at last on broken ground with the tail end of the\nforest straggling up the opposite hillside in groups and single trees. I\nknow where we are now, Joseph cried. Do you not remember, Sir--Joseph's\nexplanation was cut short by the sight of some shepherds sitting at\ntheir midday meal, and hunger falling suddenly upon Azariah and Joseph,\nboth began to regret they had not brought food with them. But Azariah\nhad some shekels tied in his garment, and for one of these pieces of\nsilver the shepherds were glad to share their bread and figs with them\nand to draw milk for them from one of the she-goats. From which shall I\ndraw milk? the shepherd asked his mate, and the mate answered:\nWhite-nose looks as if her udder is paining her. She lost her kid\nyesterday. He mentioned two others: Speckled and Long-ears. Whichever\nwould like her milk drawn off will answer to thy call, the shepherd\nanswered, and the goat came running to him as if glad to hear her name.\nWhite-nose, isn't it? Joseph asked, and he gathered a branch for her,\nand while she nibbled he watched the milk drawn off and drank it foaming\nand warm from the jug, believing it to be the sweetest he had ever\ndrunk, though he had often drunk goat's milk before. Azariah, too, vowed\nthat he had never drunk better milk and persuaded the shepherds into\ndiscourse of their trade, learning much thereby, for these men knew\neverything that men may know about flocks, having been engaged in\nleading them from pasture to pasture all their lives and their fathers\nbefore them.\n\nAfter telling of many famous rams they related the courage and fidelity\nof their dogs, none of which feared a wolf, and they mentioned that two\nhad been lost in an encounter with a leopard--but the flock had been\nsaved. As much as wolves the shepherds feared the eagles. There are a\ndozen nests in yon mountain if there be one. Take the strangers up the\nhillside, mate, so that they may get a sight of the birds. And Azariah\nand Joseph followed the shepherd up to the crags and were shown some\nbirds wheeling above rocks so steep that there was no foothold for man.\nOr else we should have had their nests long ago, the shepherd said. Now\nhere is a bear's trail. He's been seeking water here, but he didn't get\nany; he came by here, and my word, he's been up here after wild bees.\nThe shepherd showed scratches among the dropping resin, saying: it was\nhere that he clawed his way up. But did he get the honey? Joseph asked,\na question the shepherd could not answer; and talking about bears and\nhoney and eagles and lambs and wolves and lions, the afternoon passed\naway without their feeling it, till one of the shepherds said: it is\nfolding-time now; and answering to different calls the flocks separated,\nand the shepherds went their different ways followed by their flocks.\n\nThe sunset had begun to redden the sky, and the shadows of the trees\ndrew out as they crossed the hillside and descended by the steep path\ninto the valley. The ascent that faced them was steep indeed, and\nAzariah had to rest several times, but at last they reached the slope on\nwhich the city was built: but they did not enter the gates yet awhile\nbut stood looking back, thinking of the day that had gone by. We shall\nremember this day always, Joseph said, if we live to be as old as the\npatriarchs. Was it then so wonderful? Azariah asked, and Joseph could\nonly answer: yes, very wonderful. Didn't you think so? and tell me, he\nadded, is it true that God is going to destroy the world and very soon?\nWhy do you ask, Joseph? Azariah replied, and Joseph answered: because\nthe world is so very beautiful. I never saw the world before to-day. My\neyes were opened, and I shall be sorry if God destroys the world, for I\nshould like to see more of it. But why should he make a beautiful world,\nand then destroy it? Don't you think he will relent when the time comes\nand the day be as beautiful as it was this morning? Azariah answered him\nthat God does not relent, for He knows the past and future as well as\nthe present, and that the world was not as beautiful as it seems to be,\nfor man is sinning always, though certainly God said all things are\nbeautiful. But perhaps we sinned this morning in the sight of God. We\nsinned? Joseph repeated. How did we sin? Have you forgotten, Azariah\nanswered, that it was arranged that we should spend the day reading the\nScriptures, and we've spent it talking to shepherds? Was that a sin?\nJoseph asked. We can read the Scriptures to-morrow; if the day be\nclouded and rain comes, we can read them indoors. If the day be clouded,\nAzariah replied smiling. But was not thy life dedicated to Samuel? Thou\nhast forgotten him. But the world is God's world. Joseph answered that\nhe had forgotten his vow, and all that evening, in spite of Azariah's\ngentleness with him, he was pursued by the memory of the sin he had\ncommitted. In Samuel's own city he had broken his vow! And Azariah heard\nthe boy blubbering in the darkness that night.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. III.\n\n\nHe should not have interrupted the manifestations of joy at his return\nwith: when may I go to Arimathea again? And his second question was\nhardly less indiscreet: why did we leave Arimathea? His father answered:\nbecause it suited us to do so; and Joseph withdrew to Rachel who was\nnever gruff with him. But despite her bias in favour of all he said and\ndid she reproved him, saying that he should not ask as soon as he\nreturned home when he was going away again. I am glad in a way, Granny,\nbut there's no forest here. Dan left the room, and the boy would tell\nno more but burst into tears, asking what he had done to make Father so\nangry. Rachel could not tell him with safety, and Joseph, thinking that\nperhaps something unpleasant had happened to his father in the forest (a\nwolf may have bitten him there), spoke of the high rock on the next\noccasion and of the story of Jonathan and David that Azariah had read to\nhim. You will ask him to come here one night, Father, and translate it\nto you? Promise me that you will. But I can read Hebrew, Dan replied,\nand there is no reason for those wondering eyes. Thy Granny will tell\nthee. But, Father--Joseph stopped suddenly. It had come into his mind to\nask his father how it was that he had never read the story of Jonathan\nand David to him, but his interest in the matter dying suddenly, he\nsaid: to-morrow I begin my lessons, and Azariah tells me that I must\nhave a copy of the Scriptures for my very own use. Now where are thy\nthoughts? In a barrel of salt fish? Father, do listen. I'd like to learn\nHebrew from bottom to top and from top to bottom and then sideways, so\nas to put the Scribes in Jerusalem to shame when you send me thither for\nthe Feast of the Passover. And thou'lt mind that my Scriptures be made\nby the best Scribe in Galilee and on the best parchment, promise me,\nFather!\n\nDan promised his son that no finer manuscript should be procurable in\nGalilee. But the making of this magnificent copy would delay for many\nmonths Joseph's instruction in Hebrew, and Joseph was so impatient to\nbegin that he lay awake that night and in the morning ransacked his\nfather's rooms, laying hands on some quires of his father's Scriptures;\nand no sooner out of the house than a great fear fell upon him that he\nmight be robbed: the quires were hidden in his vest suddenly and he\nwalked on in confidence, also in a great seriousness, going his way\nmelancholy as a camel, his head turned from the many temptations that\nthe way offered to him--the flower in the cactus hedge was one. He\npassed it without picking it, and further on he allowed a strange\ncrawling insect to go by without molestation, and feeling his mood to be\nexceptional he fell to thinking that his granny would laugh, were she to\nsee him.\n\nHe was not, however, afraid of her laughing: women had no sense of the\nWord of God, he muttered. There were nests in the trees, but he kept\nhimself from looking, lest a nest might inspire him to climb for it. But\nnobody could climb trees with several quires of Scriptures under his\narm. He would lose his grip and fall, or else the Scriptures would fall,\nand if a thief happened to be going by it would be easy for him to pick\nup the quires and away with them before it would be possible for Joseph\nto slide down the tree and raise a hue and cry.\n\nThe lanes through which his way took him were frequented by boys,\nball-players every one of them, and at this time ball-playing was a\npassion with Joseph and he would steal away whenever he got a chance and\nspend a whole day in an alley with a number of little ragamuffins. And\nif he were to meet the tribe, which was as likely as not at the next\nturning, he must tell them that he was going to school and dared not\nstop. But they would jeer at him. He might give them his ball and in\nreturn they might not mock at him. He walked very quietly, hoping to\npass unobserved, but a boy was looking over the cactus hedge and called\nto him, asking if he had brought a ball with him, for they had lost\ntheirs. He threw his ball to him. But aren't you coming to play with\nus? Not to-day, Joseph answered. I'm on my way to school. Well,\nto-morrow? Not to-morrow. I may not play truant from learning, Joseph\nanswered sententiously, walking away, leaving his former playmates\nstaring after him without a word in their mouths. But by the next day\nthey had recovered their speech and cried out: the fishmonger's son is\ngoing by to his lessons and dare not play at ball. Azariah would whip\nhim if he did. One a little bolder than the rest dangled a piece of rope\nin his face saying: this is what you'd get if you stayed with us. He was\nmoved to run after the boy and cuff him, but the quires under his arms\nrestrained him and he passed on, keeping a dignified silence. Soon\nthou'lt be reading to us in the synagogues! was the last jeer cried\nafter him that day, but for many a day he caught sight of a face\ngrinning at him through the hedge, and the way to his lessons became\nhateful.\n\nAs he showed no sign of anger, the persecution grew wearisome to the\npersecutors, and soon after he discovered another way to Azariah. But\nthis way was beset with women, whose sex impelled a yearning for this\ntall lithe boy with the gazelle-like eyes. Joseph was more inclined to\nthe welcome of the Greek poets and sculptors who stopped their mules and\nleaning from high saddles spoke to him, for he was now beginning to\nspeak Greek and it was pleasant to avail himself of the advantages of\nthe road to chatter his Greek and to acquire new turns of phrases. Why\nnot? since it seemed to be the wish of these men to instruct him. My\nvery model! a bearded man cried out one morning, and stopping his mule\nhe bent from the saddle towards Joseph and asked him many questions.\nJoseph told him that he was on his way to his lessons and that he\npassed through this lane every morning. At these words the sculptor's\neyes lighted up, for he had accepted Joseph's answer as a tryst, and\nwhen Joseph came through the lane next day he caught sight of the\nsculptor waiting for him and--flattered--Joseph entered into\nconversation with him, resisting, however, the sculptor's repeated\ninvitation that Joseph should come to sit to him--if not for a statue,\nfor a bust at least. But a bust is a graven image, Joseph answered, and\nas the point was being debated a rich merchant came by, riding a white\nhorse that curveted splendidly, and Joseph, who was interested in the\nhorse, referred the difficulty they were engaged in to the merchant.\nAfter some consideration of it he asked the meaning of the scrolls that\nJoseph carried in his hand, feigning an interest in them and in Azariah.\nWho is he? he asked, and Joseph answered: a very learned man, my tutor,\nto whom I must be on my way. And with a pretty bow he left merchant and\nsculptor exchanging angry looks.\n\nBut the sculptor knowing more of Joseph than the merchant--that he would\nbe passing through the lane on the morrow at the same time--and as the\nboy's beauty was of great importance to him, kept another tryst, waiting\nimpatiently, and as soon as Joseph appeared he began to beseech him to\ncome to Tiberias and pose in his studio for a statue he was carving,\noffering presents that would have shaken many determinations. But Joseph\nwas as firm to-day as he was yesterday. I must be going on to my Hebrew,\nhe said, and he left the sculptor cast away in dreams. He had not gone\nvery far, however, before he met the merchant, who happened to be\npassing through the lane again, and seeing Joseph his eyes lighted up\nwith pleasure, and after speaking to him he dismounted from his mule and\nshowed him a beautiful engraved dagger which Joseph desired ardently;\nbut a present so rich he did not care to accept, and hurried away, nor\ndid he look back, so busy was he inventing reasons as he went for the\ndelay.\n\nI do not deny, Sir, that I'm past my time, but not by an hour; at most\nby half an hour. Playing at ball again, and in the purlieus of the\nneighbourhood, against your father's instructions! Azariah said, his\nface full of storm. No, Sir, I have put ball-playing out of my mind; or\nHebrew has put it out of my mind, and Greek too has had a say in the\nmatter. The delay was caused by meeting a sculptor who asked me to pose\nbefore him for a statue. And what was thy answer to him? That we were\nforbidden by our laws to look upon graven images. And what answer did he\ngive to that very proper answer? Azariah asked, somewhat softened. Many\nanswers, Sir, and among them was this one: that there was no need for me\nto look upon the statue he was carving. The answer that one might expect\nfrom a Greek, Azariah rapped out, one that sets me thinking that there\nis more to be said against the Greek language than I cared to admit to\nthy father when last in argument with him on the subject. But, Sir, you\nwill not forbid me the reading of Menander for no better reason than\nthat a Greek asked that he might carve a statue after me, for what am I\nto blame, since yourself said my answer was commendable? And in these\nwords there was so plaintive an accent that Azariah's heart was touched,\nfor he guessed that the diverting scene in which the slave arranges for\na meeting between the lovers was in the boy's mind.\n\nAt that moment their eyes went together to the tally on the wall, and\npointing to it Joseph said it bore witness to the earnestness with which\nhe had pursued his studies for the last six months, and Azariah was\nforced to admit there was little to complain of in the past, but he had\nnoticed that once a boy came late for his lessons his truancy became\ncommon. Moreover, Sir, my time is of importance, Azariah declared, his\nhairy nostrils swelling at the thought of the half hour he had been kept\nwaiting. But may we finish Menander's comedy? Joseph asked, for he was\ncurious to learn if Moschion succeeded in obtaining his father's leave\nto marry the girl he had put in the family way. The lovers' plan was to\ningratiate themselves with the father's concubine and to persuade her to\nget permission to rear and adopt the child. Yes, Joseph, the father\nrelents. But it would please me, Sir, to learn why he relents. And\nJoseph promised that he would be for a whole year in advance of his time\nrather than behind it. He did not doubt that he would be able to keep\nhis promise, for he had found a new way to Tiberias; a deserted way it\nseemed to be at first, and most propitious, without the temptations of\nball-players, but as the season advanced the lane became infested by\nshowmen on their way to Tiberias: mummers, acrobats, jugglers,\nfortune-tellers, star-mongers, dealers in charms and amulets, and Joseph\nwas tempted more than once to stop and speak with these random folk, but\nthe promise he had given Azariah was sufficiently powerful to inspire a\ndread and a dislike of these, and to avoid them he sought for a third\nway to Tiberias and found one: a path through an orchard belonging to a\nneighbour who was glad to give him permission to pass through it every\nmorning, which he did, thereby making progress in his studies till one\nday, by the stile over which his custom was to vault into the quiet\nlane, he came suddenly upon what seemed to him like a small encampment:\nwayfarers of some sort he judged them to be, but of what sort he could\nnot tell at first, there being some distance and the branches of an\napple-tree between him and them.\n\nBut as he came through the trees, he decided in his mind that they were\nthe servitude of some great man: varlets, hirelings or slaves. But his\neyes fell on their baskets and--deceived by the number and size of\nthese--the thought crossed his mind that they might be poulterers on\ntheir way to Tiberias. But whatever their trade they had no right to\nencamp in the orchard, and he informed them politely that the orchard\nbelonged to friends of his, and that large and fierce dogs were loose\nabout the place. For his warning they thanked him, saying they'd make\noff at once; remarking as they made their preparations for going that\nthey did not think they were doing any harm by coming into the orchard,\nhaving only crossed the stile to rest themselves.\n\nGoing with poultry to Tiberias? Joseph said. Not with poultry, Sir, the\nvarlets answered. We are not poulterers, but cockers. Cockers! Joseph\nrepeated, and on reading the blank look in his face they told him they\nwere the servants of a great Roman who had sent them in search of\nfighting cocks; for a great main was going to be fought that day in\nTiberias. We are his cockers, a man said (he spoke with some slight\nauthority, the others seemed to be in his charge), and have been far in\nsearch of these birds. He pointed to the baskets and asked Joseph if he\nwould care to see the cocks, and as if to awaken Joseph's curiosity he\nbegan to tell their pedigrees. That one, he said, is a Cilician and of a\nbreed that has won thousands of shekels, and a bird in the basket next\nhim is a Bythinian brown-red, the victor in many a main, and the birds\nin the next three baskets are Cappadocian Duns, all of celebrated\nancestry, for our master will have none but the finest birds; and if you\nhappen to know of any good birds, price will not stand in the way of our\npurchasing them. Joseph answered that he had not heard of any, but if he\nshould--You'll not forget us, said a small meagre woman with black\nshining eyes in a colourless face, drab as the long desert road she had\ncome by. Joseph promised; and then a short thick-set man with matted\nhair, and sore eyes that were always fixed on the ground, opened one of\nthe baskets and took out a long lean bird, which he held in shining\nfingers for Joseph's admiration. Listen to him, cried the woman in a\nhigh thin voice. Listen to him, for no one can set a cock a-sparring\nlike him. The servants consulted among themselves in a language Joseph\ndid not understand, and then, as if they had come to an agreement among\nthemselves, the foreman said, approaching Joseph and cringing a little\nbefore him, that if the little master could assure them they would not\nbe disturbed by dogs, they would like to show him the cocks. A little\nexercise, the man said, would be of advantage to the birds--to those\nthat were not fighting that morning--he added, and the man whom the\nwoman nicknamed The Heeler, a nickname acquired from the dexterity with\nwhich he fitted the cock's heels with soft leather pads, said: you see,\nmaster, they may fight and buffet one another for a space without\ninjury.\n\nJoseph watched the birds advance and retire and pursue each other, and\nafter this exhibition they were put back into their baskets and covered\nwith hay. So you are the Heeler? Joseph asked. The man grinned vacantly,\nand the woman answered for him. There is none like him in this country\nfor fixing a pair of spurs, for cutting the tail and wings and\nshortening the hackle and the rump feathers. You see, young Master, the\ncomb is cut close so that there shall be no mark for t'other bird's\nbill. And who knows but you'd like to see the spurs, Master. And she\nshowed him spurs of two kinds, for there are cocks that fight better\nwith long spurs and cocks that fight better with short. And how many\ndays does it take to train a cock? Joseph asked, and they began to tell\nhim that a fighting cock must be fed with bread and spring water, and\nhave his exercise--running and sparring--every day. It was the woman\nthat kept Joseph in chat, for the men were busy carrying the baskets\nover the stile and placing them in mule cars that were waiting in the\nlane. But, young Master, she said, if you've never seen a cock-fight\ncome with us, for a better one you'll never live to see. The best birds\nin Western Asia will be in Tiberias to-day. Joseph did not answer this\ninvitation at once, for he did not altogether like this woman nor her\nmanner of standing near to him, her black shining eyes fixed upon him.\nBut he was like one infected, and could not escape from his desire to\nsee a cock-fight. He knew that Azariah would never forgive him for\nkeeping him waiting ... waiting for how long? he asked himself. Till he\ncares to wait no longer, his conscience answered him. He was going to\nget into great trouble, but he could not say no to the cockers, and he\nfollowed them, asking himself when he should escape from the evil spirit\nwhich--at their instigation, perhaps--had taken possession of him. A\nmoment after he was assuring himself that the folk he had fallen in with\nwere ignorant of everything but cockering, without knowledge of\nwitchcraft, star-mongering or sortilege--the servants of some great\nRoman, without doubt, which was sufficient assurance that though they\nmight be cock stealers on occasion they were not kidnappers. Besides, in\nfrequented lanes and in Tiberias the stealing of a boy was out of the\nquestion, and after seeing one or two cocks killed he could return home,\nfor he need not wait till the end. He could not help himself, he must\nsee the great red and yellow bird strike his spur through the head of\nhis adversary, as the Heeler told him he had never failed to do in many\ncombats. And he would not fail now, though he was two years old, which\nis old for a fighting cock. You see, little Master, the woman said, they\nbe not as quick on their legs as they get older, nor are they as eager\nto fight. To-day's battle will be his last--win or lose--and if he\nconies out alive at the end he'll go to the hens, which will be more\nfrolicsome than having spurs driven into his neck as happened three\nmonths gone by, but it didn't check his spirit, she continued, he killed\nhis bird and let off one great crowing before he toppled over: we\nthought he was gone, but I sucked his wound, bathed it with salt and\nwater, and you see he's none the worse to-day.\n\nAt every turning of the lane the demon seemed to propel Joseph more\nviolently, till at last he put Azariah out of his head and began to ask\nhimself if he would be guilty of any great sin in going to see the\ncock-fight? Of any sin greater than that of following the custom of the\nheathen? His father might be angry, but there'd be no particular\natonement: a fast day, or some study of the law, no more, for he'd be\ncareful not to raise his eyes to the gods and goddesses that beset the\nstreets and public places in Tiberias. And on this resolve he followed\nthe cockers into the city. He was glad to see that many statues stood on\nthe roofs of the buildings and so far away that no faces or limbs were\nvisible; but the statues in the streets were difficult to avoid seeing.\nWorst of all, the cock-fight that he thought would be fought in the open\nair had been arranged to happen in a great building--a theatre or\ncircus--he did not know which. Joseph had never seen so great a crowd\nbefore, and the servants he had come with pointed out to him their\nmaster among a group of Romans. The Jews from Alexandria, he was told,\ncame to these games, and this caused his conscience to quicken, for he\nhad heard his father speak of the Alexandrian Jews as heretics. Azariah\ndid not hold such orthodox views, but what his tutor's views were about\ncock-fighting Joseph did not know; and when he asked if he might\napproach the ring he was told that the circle about the ring was for the\nRomans and those whom they might invite, but he'd be able to see very\nwell from where he was.\n\nThe Romans seemed to him an arrogant and proud people; and, conscious of\nan innate hostility, he watched them as they leaned over the railing\nthat enclosed the fighting ring, talking among themselves, sometimes,\nhowever, deigning to call a Jew to join them. The Jews came to them\nobsequiously, hoping that the honour bestowed upon them did not escape\nnotice; and Joseph's ear caught servile phrases: young Sir, it is\nreported you've a bird that will smite down all comers, and, Sir, we can\noffer you but a poor show of birds. Those at Rome----\n\nA sudden silence fell, which was broken by the falling of dice, and\nJoseph was told that the throw would decide which seven birds were to\nbegin.... We have won the throw, was whispered in his ear. We've the\nadvantage. But why it was an advantage to fight from the right rather\nthan from the left Joseph was too excited to inquire, for the cocks had\njust been put into the ring or pit, and Joseph recognised the tall lank\nbird that the Heeler had taken out of his basket in the orchard. He's\nfighting to-day with long spurs, he was told. But why does he fight the\nother bird--a yearling? he heard the woman ask; and he saw a black cock\ncrouch to meet the red in deadly fight. Must one die? he asked, but the\ncockers were too intent on the battle to answer his question. The birds\nre-sparred and leaped aside, avoiding each other's rushes, and before\nlong it became clear even to Joseph that their bird, though stronger\nthan the younger bird, did not spring as high or as easily. A good bird,\nhe heard the servants say: there'll be a battle for it, my word, there\nwill, and our bird will win if the young one doesn't get his stroke in\nquickly; an old bird will tire out a young bird.... As these words were\nspoken, the black cock dashed in, and with a quick stroke sent his spur\nthrough the red bird's head. He's gone this time beyond thy care! And\ntears came into Lydia's eyes. I'm sorry, I'd have liked to have seen him\nend his days happily among the hens, a-treading of them. Joseph felt he\nhad not rightly understood her, and when he inquired out her meaning\nfrom her, she told it with so repulsive a leer that he could not conquer\na sudden dislike. He moved away from her immediately and asked her no\nmore questions.\n\nMore cocks were set to fight, and they fought to the death always: only\nonce did a cock turn tail and refuse to continue the combat. To persuade\nhim to be brave, the slave in charge placed him breast to breast with\nhis adversary, but despite all encouragement he turned tail and hid\nhimself in the netting. Now what will happen to him? Joseph asked. First\nhe'll be cut and then fattened for the spit or the gridiron, the Heeler\nanswered. Look, young Master, and turning his eyes whither the Heeler's\nfinger pointed, Joseph saw the bird's owner sign to the slave that he\nwas to twist the bird's neck; which was done, and the poltroon went into\na basket by himself--he did not deserve to be with those that had been\nslain in combat.\n\nThe ring was now covered with blood and feathers, and two slaves came\nwith buckets of water and brushes to clean it, and while this office was\nbeing performed many fell to drinking from flasks which their slaves\nhanded to them. The man who had told his slave to wring his cock's neck\nregretted that he had done so. The merited punishment would have been\nto hand the bird over to a large ape, that would have plucked the bird\nfeather by feather, examining each feather curiously before selecting\nthe next one; and he swore a great oath by Jupiter and then, as if to\nannoy the Jews, by Jehovah, that the next of his birds that refused\ncombat should be served this way. Our master will not put us on the\ncross for so misjudging a bird's courage, Joseph heard the Heeler say;\nand Lydia sidled up against Joseph, and it was her thigh as much as the\nmemory of the oaths he had heard uttered and that were being uttered and\nthat would be uttered again as soon as the fighting commenced that set\nhim thinking of Azariah scanning the tally on the wall--vowing that he\nwould teach him no more; but the tally, which Joseph knew well, showed\nthat he had not missed an hour for many months. But a whole day's\nabsence was something more than any truancy he had ever indulged in\nbefore, and the only reason he could give for it would be the\ninacceptable one that the cockers had bidden a demon take possession of\nhim.\n\nAnother pair of cocks was already in the ring: two young birds trained\nto the finest distinction, and they sparred so lustily that even the\nexperts could not predict the victor. But there was no heart in Joseph\nfor more cock-fighting, and he viewed with disgust the mean vile faces\nthat leered at him while he thanked them for the occasion which he owed\nthem of overlooking so much fine sport. But they were a scurvy lot,\nviler than he had supposed, though he had suspected from the first that\nthey were nurturing some trick against him. And he searched himself, for\nhe would willingly give them money to be rid of them. But how much will\nthey accept? he asked himself, as he searched his pockets ... his money\nwas gone! Stolen, no doubt, but by whom? By the cockers standing around\nhim, quarrelling and railing at each other, levelling accusations right\nand left--the Heeler wrangling with Lydia, saying it was she that had\nasked the young penniless to come with them. A mercy it was that he\ndidn't call me a ragamuffin, Joseph said to himself. He was not without\nsome apprehension that they might detain him till a ransom was paid, and\nright glad to perceive himself free to go: having gotten his money they\nwished to be rid of him quietly; and he too, wishing to avoid attracting\nattention, slunk out of Tiberias without laying complaint before the\nmagistrate.\n\nIt was unlikely that his money would be found upon the thieves and his\nfather would be very angry indeed if he were obliged to go to Tiberias\nto bear witness to the truth of his story that his son, while on his way\nto his tutor's--Joseph stopped to consider the eventualities, and he\nheard in imagination the tale unfolding. Azariah might be called! And if\nhe were, he would tell he had been kept waiting all day, and the jealous\nneighbours would be glad to send round to commiserate with his father.\nIt seemed to Joseph that he had escaped lightly with the loss of a few\nshekels. But what reason should he give for coming home so late? He'd\nhave to say where he had spent the day. Azariah would tell of his\nabsence from his lessons. Ah, if he had foreseen all these worries, he\nwouldn't have gone to Tiberias.... Should he say he had been out fishing\non the lake? The fishers would not betray him, but they might; and he\ncould not bring himself to tell his father a lie. So did he argue with\nhimself as he walked, saying that he had not done worse than--But what\nhad happened at home? Something must have happened, for the gates were\nopen. The gate-keeper, where was he? And his wonder increased as he\nreached the house, for all the servants seemed to be running to and fro.\nThe Lord be praised for sending you back to us! they exclaimed. You\nthought then that the Lord had taken me from you? Joseph asked, and the\nman replied that they had been searching for him all day--sending\nmessengers hither and thither, and that in the afternoon a boat had\nhoisted sail and put out for the fishing fleet, thinking that Simon\nPeter might be able to give tidings of Master Joseph. But why all this\nfuss? Joseph said, because I come home a little later than usual. Your\nfather, Master Joseph, is beside himself, and your grandmother--Joseph\nleft the man with the end of the sentence on his tongue.\n\nSo you've returned at last! his father cried on seeing him, and began at\nonce to tell the anxiety he had suffered. Nor was Rachel without her\nword, and between their reproofs it was some time before Joseph began to\napprehend the cause of the tumult: Azariah had laid a long complaint of\ntruancy! As to that, Joseph answered tartly, he has little to complain\nof. And he spoke of the pact between them, relating that seven or eight\nmonths before he had promised Azariah not to be past his time by five\nminutes. Look to his tally, Father: it will tell that I have kept my\nword for eight months and more and would have kept it for the year\nif--Be mindful of what he is saying to thee, Dan. Look well to the tally\nbefore condemning, Rachel cried. Wouldst have it then, woman, Azariah\nlied to me? Not lied, but was carried beyond himself in a great heat of\npassion at being kept waiting, Rachel answered. He said that he enjoyed\nteaching thee, Joseph, God having granted thee a good intelligence and\nways of comprehension. But he couldn't abide seeing thee waste thy time\nand his. We're willing and ready to hear about this absence and the\ncause of it, Dan interposed. So get on with the story: where hast thou\nbeen? Out with it, boy. Where hast thou been?\n\nThe bare question could only be met by the bare answer: watching a\ncock-fight in Tiberias; and to save his parents from much\nmisunderstanding, he said he must begin at the beginning. Dan would have\nliked a straight answer, but Rachel said the boy should be suffered to\ntell his story his own way; and Joseph told a fine tale, the purport of\nwhich was that he had sought for a by-way to Tiberias, the large lanes\nbeing beset by acrobats, zanies, circus riders and the like, and had\nfound one through Argob orchard and had followed it daily without\nmeeting anyone for many months, but this morning as he came through the\ntrees he had caught sight of an encampment; some cockers on their way to\nTiberias, where a great main was to be fought. And it was the cocks of\nPamphilia that had--He stopped, for the great change that had come over\nhis parents' faces set him wondering if his conduct was as shameful as\ntheir faces seemed to affirm. He could not see that he had sinned\nagainst the law by going to Tiberias, though he had associated himself\nwith Gentiles and for a whole day ... he had eaten in their company, but\nnot of any forbidden meat. And while Joseph sought to mitigate his\noffence to himself, his father sat immersed in woe, his head in his\nhands. What calamity, he cried, has fallen on my house, and how have I\nsinned, O Lord, that punishment should fall upon me, and that my own son\nshould be chosen to mete out my punishment? My house is riven from\nrafter to foundation stone. But, Father, at most--It seemed useless to\nplead. He stood apart; his grandmother stood silent and grave, not\nunderstanding fully, and Joseph foresaw that he could not count upon\nher to side with him against his father. But if his father would only\ntell him if he had sinned against the law, instead of rending his\ngarments, he would do all the law commanded to obtain forgiveness. Was\nthere, he asked, anything in the law against cock-fighting? or in the\ntraditions? It was a pastime of the heathen: he knew that, and had hoped\na day of fasting might be suggested to him, but if this offence was more\nserious than he had supposed he besought his father to say so. Tell me,\nFather, have I sinned against the law?\n\nThe question seemed to exasperate his father who at last cried out: of\nwhat value may be thy Hebrew studies and a knowledge of the language, if\nthe law be not studied with Azariah? Does not the Book of Leviticus ever\nlie open before thee? How has the law been affronted? The law given by\nthe Lord unto Moses. My own son asks me this. \"And if a soul sin and\nhear the voice swearing and is a witness whether he has sinned or known\nof it, if he did not utter it, then he shall bear his iniquity.\" Was\nthere no swearing at thy cock-fight? Plenty, I reckon. All day was spent\nlistening to swearing, hearing the name of the Lord taken in vain: a\nname we don't dare to pronounce ourselves. Joseph sat dumbfounded. So\nAzariah never taught thee the law? All the time goes by wasted in the\nreading of Greek plays. We read Hebrew and speak it, Joseph answered,\nand it was your wish that I should learn Greek. And, Father, is there\nany reason to worry over a loss of repute? For my sin will be known to\nnobody but God, unless told by thee, and thou'lt keep it secret. Or told\nby Azariah, Dan answered moodily, who never teaches the law, but likes\nGreek plays better. Well, thou shalt hear the law from me to-night, for\nI can read Hebrew, not, belike, as well as Azariah, but I can read\nHebrew all the same. Mother, hand me down the Scriptures from the shelf.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. IV.\n\n\nWell, Dan, you must make up your mind whether you are going to look out\nfor one who will teach him better, or let him remain with Azariah, who\nlikes teaching him, for he is a clever but oft-times an idle boy. I\ndon't know that I should have said idle, she added, and sat thinking of\nwhat word would describe Joseph's truancy better than idle, without,\nhowever, finding the word she needed, and her thoughts floated away into\na long consideration of her son's anger, for she could see he was angry\nwith Azariah. But the cause of his anger she could not discover. It\ncould not be that he was annoyed with Azariah for coming to complain\nthat he was often kept waiting: and it was on her tongue to ask him why\nhe was so gloomy, why he knitted his brows and bit his lips. But she\nheld back the question, for it would not be long before Dan would let\nout his secret: he could not keep one. And Dan, knowing well his own\nweakness and his mother's shrewdness (she would soon be guessing what\nwas passing in his mind), began to animadvert on Azariah for his\nresidence in Tiberias, a pagan city--his plan for leading her on a false\ntrail. Others, he said, spoke more unfavourably than he did; and he\ncontinued in this strain until Rachel, losing patience, interrupted him\nsuddenly saying that Azariah did not live in Tiberias. If not in\nTiberias, he answered, in a suburb, and within a stone's throw of the\ncity walls. But what has that got to do with Joseph? Rachel asked. What\nhas it got to do with Joseph! Dan growled, when to reach the scribe's\nhouse he has to pass through lanes infested with the off-scourings of\nthe pagan world: mummers, zanies, jugglers, dancers, whores from\nBabylon. Did ye not hear him, woman, describe these lanes, saying that\nhe had to change his course three times so that he might keep his\npromise to Azariah, and are ye not mindful that he told me, and you\nsitting there listening on that very stool, that the showmen he met in\nArgob orchard put a spell upon him, and that it was the demon that had\nobtained temporary lodgment in him that had bidden him to Tiberias to\nsee the cock-fight: Jews from Alexandria, heretics, adventurers,\nbeggars, aliens! Look ye here, Dan, Rachel said, he is a proud boy and\nmay thank thee little for--There are others to teach him, Dan\ninterrupted, and continued to walk up and down the room, for he wished\nto make an end of this talk with his mother. But he hadn't crossed the\nroom twice when he was brought to a full stop, having remembered\nsuddenly that it is always by such acts as he was now meditating that\nfathers lose the affections of their sons. If he were to drag Joseph\naway from Azariah, from whom he was learning Hebrew and Greek, Joseph\nmight begin to look upon him as a tyrant. His mother was a sharp-witted\nwoman, and very little was needed to set her thinking. She had an\nirritating way of looking as it were into his mind, and if she were to\nsuspect him of jealousy of Azariah he would never have a moment's peace\nagain.\n\nBut what in the world may we understand from all this bear-dancing up\nand down the room? asked Rachel. Ye must know if you are going to\nwithdraw the boy from his schooling.\n\nDan cast an angry glance at his mother and hated her; and then his heart\nmisgave him, for he knew that he lacked courage to take Joseph out of\nhis present schooling, and dared not divide his house against himself,\nor do anything that might lose him his son's love and little by little\ncause himself to be looked upon as a tyrant. He knew himself to be a\nweak man, except in the counting-house; he knew it, and must stifle his\njealousy of Azariah, who had forgiven Joseph his truancy and was the\nonly one that knew of the excursion into Tiberias. But Azariah's\nindulgence did not altogether please him. He began to suspect it and to\ndoubt if he had acted wisely in not ordering Joseph away from Azariah:\nfor Azariah was robbing him, robbing him of all that he valued in this\nworld, his son! And it seemed to him a little later in the day, as he\nclosed his ledger, that he had come to be disregarded in his own house;\nand he thought he would have liked much better to stay away, to dine in\nthe counting-house, urging a press of business. The first thing he would\nhear would be \"Azariah.\" The hated name was never off the boy's lips: he\ntalked of nothing else but Azariah and Hebrew and Greek and the learned\nJews whom he met at Azariah's house.\n\nDan sat looking into the dusk asking himself if his bargain were not\nthat his son should learn the Greek language but not Greek literature,\nwhich is full of heresy, he said to himself; and he returned home\ndetermined to raise the point; but Joseph told him, and he thought\nrather abruptly, that it was only through Greek literature that one\ncould learn Greek in Tiberias--the spoken language was a dialect.\n\nIt may have been that Joseph perceived that praise of Azariah caused his\nfather to writhe a little, and--curious to observe the effect--he spoke\nmore of Azariah than he would have done otherwise, and laid an accent on\nhis master's learning, and related incidents in which his master\nappeared to great advantage, causing his father much perplexity and pain\nof mind, till at last, unable to bear the torture any longer, he\nsaid--the words slipped from him incontinently--you're no better than a\nlittle Azariah! and, unable to contain himself, he rushed from the room,\nleaving Joseph and Rachel to discuss his vehemence and discover motives\nwhich he hoped would not include the right one. But afraid that he had\nbetrayed his jealousy of Azariah he returned, and to mislead his mother\nand son he began to speak of the duty of the pupil to the master,\ntelling Joseph he must submit himself to Azariah in everything: by\nrepresenting Azariah as one in full authority he hoped to overcome his\ninfluence and before many months had passed over a different accent was\nnotable in Joseph's voice when he spoke of Azariah; but he continued\nwith him for two more years. And it was then that Dan set himself to\ndevise plans to end his son's studies in Hebrew and Greek.\n\nJoseph knows now all that Azariah can teach him, and it is high time\nthat I took him in hand and taught him his trade. But though determined\nto rid himself of Azariah he felt he must proceed gently (if possible,\nin conjunction with his mother); he must wait for an occasion; and while\nhe was watching for one it fell out that Joseph wearied of Azariah and\nwent to his father saying that he had learnt Hebrew and could speak\nGreek, so there was no use in his returning to Azariah any more. At\nfirst his parents could only think that he had; quarrelled with Azariah,\nbut it was not so, they soon discovered that he had merely become tired\nof him--a change that betokened a capricious mind. A growing boy is full\nof fancies, Rachel said: an explanation that Dan deemed sufficient, and\nhe was careful not to speak against Azariah lest he should turn his\nson's thoughts back on Greek literature, or Greek philosophy, which is\nmore pernicious even than the literature. He did not dare to ask Joseph\nto come down to the counting-house, afraid lest by trying to influence\nhim in one direction he might influence him in the opposite direction.\nHe deemed it better to leave everything to fate, and while putting his\ntrust in God Dan applied himself to meditate on the young man's\ncharacter and his tastes, which seemed to have taken a sudden turn; for,\nto his father's surprise, Joseph had begun to put questions to him about\nthe sale of fish, and to speak of visiting Tyre and Sidon with a view to\nestablishing branch houses--extensions of their business. His father,\nwhile approving of this plan, pointed out that Tyre and Sidon being\nthemselves on the coast of the sea could never be as good customers as\ninland cities, sea fish being considered, he thought mistakenly,\npreferable to lake. He had been doing, it is true, a fair trade with\nDamascus, but whereas it was impossible to reckon on Damascus it seemed\nto him that their industry might be extended in many other directions.\nAnd delighted with the change that had come over his son he said that he\nwould have tried long ago to extend his business, if he had had\nknowledge of the Greek language.\n\nHe spoke of Heliopolis, and proposed to Joseph that he should go there\nand establish a mart for salt fish as soon as he had mastered all the\ndetails of the trade, which would be soon: a very little application in\nthe counting-house would be enough for a clever fellow like Joseph.\n\nAs he said these words his eyes met Rachel's, and as soon as Joseph left\nthe room she asked him if he believed that Joseph would settle down to\nthe selling of salt fish: a question which was not agreeable to Dan, who\nwas at that moment settling himself into the conviction that Joseph had\nbegun to evince an aptitude for trade that he himself did not acquire\ntill many years older, causing him to flame up as might be expected\nagainst his mother, telling her that her remarks were most mischievous,\nwhether she meant them or not. He hoped Joseph was not the young man\nthat she saw in him. Before he could say any more Joseph returned, and\nlinked his arm into his father's, and the twain went away together to\nthe counting-house, Dan enamoured of his son but just a little afraid\nall the same that Joseph might weary of trade in the end, just as he had\nwearied of learning. He was moved to speak his fear to Joseph, but on\nconsideration he resolved that no good could come of such confidences,\nand on the evening of the first day in the counting-house he whispered\nto Rachel that Joseph had taken to trade as a duck to the water, as the\nsaying is.\n\nDay after day he watched his son's progress in administration, saying\nnothing, waiting for the head clerk to endorse his opinion that there\nwere the makings of a first-rate man in Joseph. He was careful not to\nask any leading questions, but he could not refrain from letting the\nconversation drop, so that the clerk might have an opportunity of\nexpressing his opinion of Master Joseph's business capacities. But the\nclerk made no remark: it might as well have been that Joseph was not in\nthe counting-house; Dan had begun to hate his clerk, who had been with\nhim for thirty years. He had brought him from Arimathea and couldn't\ndismiss him; he could only look into his eyes appealingly. At last the\nclerk spoke, and his words were like manna in the desert; and,\noverjoyed, Dan wondered how it was that he could have refrained so long.\nIt was concerning a certain falling off in an order: if Master Joseph\nwere to go on a circuit through the Greek cities--Dan could have thrown\nhis arms about his clerk for these words, but it were better to\ndissimulate. You think then that Joseph understands the business\nsufficiently? The clerk acquiesced, and it was a great day, of course,\nthe day Joseph went forth; and in a few weeks Dan had proof that his\nconfidence in his son's business aptitudes was not misplaced. Joseph\nshowed himself to be suited to the enterprise by his engaging manner as\nwell as by his knowledge of Hebrew and Greek, the two languages\nprocuring him an admission into the confidences of Jew and Gentile\nalike.\n\nThe length of these excursions was from three to four weeks, and when\nJoseph returned home for an interval his parents disputed as to whether\nhe should spend his holiday in the counting-house or the dwelling-house.\nSo to avoid giving offence to either, and for his own pleasure Joseph\noften spent these days on the boats with the fishers, learning their\ncraft from them, losing himself often in meditations how the draught of\nfishes might be increased by a superior kind of net: interested in his\ntrade far too much, Rachel said. His mind seemed bent on it always;\nwhereas she would have liked to have heard him tell of all the countries\nhe had been to and of all the people he had seen, but it was always\nabout salt fish that he was talking: how many barrels had gone to this\ntown, and how many barrels to another, and the new opening he had\ndiscovered for salt fish in a village the name of which he had never\nheard before.\n\nRachel's patience with Joseph was long but at last she lost patience and\nsaid she would be glad when the last barrel of salt fish came out of the\nlake, for it would not be till then that they would have time to live\ntheir lives in peace and comfort. She gathered up her knitting and was\ngoing to bed, but Joseph would not suffer her to go. He said he had\nstories to tell her, and he fell to telling of the several preachers he\nhad heard in the synagogues, and his voice beguiled the evening away so\npleasantly that Rachel let her knitting drop into her lap and sat\nlooking at her grandson, stupefied and transported with love.\n\nDan's love for his son was more tender in these days than it had ever\nbeen before, but Rachel looked back, thinking the old days were better,\nwhen Joseph used to come from Azariah's talking about his studies. It\nmay be that Dan, forgetful of his jealousy, looked back to those days\ngone over with a certain wistfulness. A boy is, if not more interesting,\nat least more unexpected, than a young man. In the old days Dan did not\nknow what sort of son God had given him, but now he knew that God had\ngiven him the son he always desired, and that Azariah's tending of the\nboy's character had been kind, wise and salutary, as the flower and\nfruit showed. But in the deepest peace there is disquiet, and in the\nrelation of his adventures Joseph had begun to display interest in\nvarious interpretations of Scripture which he had heard in the\nsynagogues--true that he laughed at these, but he had met learned\nheretics from Alexandria in Azariah's house. Dan often wondered if these\nhad not tried to impregnate his mind with their religious theories and\ndoctrines, for being without religious interests, Dan was strictly\northodox.\n\nHe did not suspect Azariah, whom he knew to be withal orthodox, as much\nas Azariah's friend, Apollonius, the Alexandrian Jew. But though he kept\nhis ears open for the slightest word he could not discover any trace of\nhis influence. If his discourse had had any effect, it was to make\nJoseph more than ever a Pharisee. He was sometimes even inclined to\nthink that Joseph was a little too particular, laying too much stress\nupon the practice of minute observances, and he began to apprehend that\nthere was something of the Scribe in Joseph after all. The significance\nof his mother's words becoming suddenly clear to Dan, he asked himself\nif it were not yet within the width of a finger that Joseph would tire\nof trade and retire to Jerusalem and expound the law and the traditions\nin the Temple. His vocation, Dan was of opinion, could not yet be\npredicted with any certainty: he might go either way--to trade or to\nreligious learning--and in the midst of these meditations on his son's\ncharacter Dan remembered that some friends had come to see Joseph at the\ncounting-house yesterday. Joseph had taken them out into the yard and\nthey had talked together, but it was not of the export of salt fish they\nhad spoken, but of the observances of the Sabbath. Dan had listened, pen\nin hand, his thoughts suspended, and had heard them devote many minutes\nto the question whether a man should dip himself in the nearest brook if\nhe had accidentally touched a pig. He had heard them discuss at length\nthe grace that should be used before eating fruit from a tree, and\nwhether it were necessary to say three graces after eating three kinds\nof fruit at one meal. He had heard one ask if a sheep that had been\nkilled with a Greek knife could be eaten, and he had heard Joseph ask\nhim if he knew the sheep had been killed with a Greek knife and the man\nconfess that he had not made inquiry. If he had known--\n\nDan did not hear the end of the sentence, but imagined that it ended in\na gesture of abhorrence. In his day religion was limited to the law of\nMoses, a skein well combed out, but the Scribes in Jerusalem had knotted\nand twisted the skein. He had heard Joseph maintain, and stiffly too,\nthat an egg laid on the day after the Sabbath could not be eaten,\nbecause it had been prepared by the hen on the Sabbath. But one can't\nalways be watching hens, he said to himself, and the discussion of such\npoints seeming to him unmanly, he drew back the window-curtain and fell\ninto admiration of his son's slim loins and great shoulders. Joseph was\nlaughing with his companions at that moment and his teeth glistened,\nevery one white and shapely. Why do such discussions interest him? Dan\nasked, for his eyes are soft as flowers; and he envied the woman that\nJoseph would resort unto in the night. But very often men like Joseph\ndid not marry, and a new disquietude arose in his mind: he wanted\nchildren, grandchildren. In a few years Joseph should begin to look\nround.... Meanwhile it might be well to tell him that men like Hillel\nhad always held that it is after the spirit rather than the letter we\nshould strive, and that in running after the latter we are apt to lose\nthe former, and he accepted the first opportunity to admonish Joseph,\nwho listened in amazement, wondering what had befallen his father, whom\nhe had never heard speak like this before. All the same he hearkened to\nthese warnings and laid them in his memory, and fell to considering his\nfather as one who had just jogged along the road that he and his\nancestors had come by, without much question. But if his father had set\nhimself to consider religions, and with that seriousness they deserved,\nhe would not keep back any longer the matter on which he had long\ndesired to speak to him.\n\nThe young men to whom he had just bidden good-bye were all going to\nJerusalem, whither Dan was accustomed to go every year for the Feast of\nthe Passover, but last year the journey thither had fatigued him unduly,\nand it seemed to Joseph that this year he should go to Jerusalem in his\nfather's place; and when he broached the subject, Dan, who had been\nthinking for some time that he was not feeling strong enough for this\njourney, welcomed Joseph's proposal--a most proper presence Joseph's\nwould be at the Feast. Joseph had come to the age when he should visit\nJerusalem, but he did not readily understand this sudden enthusiasm. If\nhe wanted to go to Jerusalem to the Feast of the Passover, why had he\nnot said so before? And Dan, whose thoughts reached back to the\ndiscussion overheard in the yard, was compelled to ask Joseph if it were\nfor the purpose of discussing the value of certain minute points of law\nthat he wished to go to Jerusalem. At which Joseph was astonished that\nhis father should have asked him such a thing.... Yet why not? For\nawhile back he was discussing such very points with some young gossips.\nHis tongue wagged as was its wont on all occasions, though his mind was\naway and he suddenly stopped speaking; and when the stirring of his\nfather's feet on the floor awakened him, he saw his father sitting pen\nin hand watching him and no doubt asking himself of what great and\nwonderful thing his son was thinking.\n\nOnce again actuality disappeared. He stood engulfed in memories of\nthings heard in Azariah's house: or things only half heard, for he had\nnever thought of them since. The words of the Jews he met there had\nfallen dead at the time, but now he remembered things that had passed\nover his mind. The heresies of the Jews in Alexandria awoke in him, and\na marvellous longing awoke to see the world. First of all he must begin\nwith Jerusalem, and he bade his father good-bye with an eagerness not\ntoo pleasant to the old man.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. V.\n\n\nGone to the study of the law! Dan said, as he walked up and down the\nroom, glancing often into Joseph's letter, for it figured to him the\nTemple with the Scribes meditating on the law, or discussing it with\neach other while their wives remained at home doing the work. So do\ntheir lives pass over, he said, in the study of the law. Nothing else is\nto them of any worth.... My poor boy hopes that I shall forgive him for\nnot returning home after the Feast of the Passover! Does he suspect that\nI would prefer him indifferent to the law in Magdala, rather than\nimmersed in it at Jerusalem? A little surprised and shocked at the\nlicentiousness of his thoughts, he drew them into order with the\nadmission that it is better in every way that a young man should go to\nJerusalem early in his life and acquire reverence for the ritual and\ntraditions of his race, else he will drift later on into heresy, or\nmaybe go to live in cities like Tiberias, amongst statues. But why do I\ntrouble myself like this? For there was a time before I had a son, and\nthe time is getting very close now when I shall lose him. And Dan stood\nswallowed up in the thought of the great gulf into which precarious\nhealth would soon pitch him out of sight of Joseph for ever. It was\nRachel coming into the room that awoke him. She too! he muttered. He\nbegan to fuss about, seeking for writing materials, for he was now\nintent to send Joseph a letter of recommendation to the High Priest,\nhaving already forgotten the gulf that awaited him, in the pleasurable\nrecollection of the courtesy and consideration he received from the most\ndistinguished men the last time he was in Jerusalem--from Hanan the son\nof Seth and father-in-law of Kaiaphas: Kaiaphas was now High Priest, the\nHigh Priest of that year; but in truth, Hanan, who had been High Priest\nbefore him, retained all the power and importance of the office and was\neven called the High Priest. Dan remembered that he had been received\nwith all the homage due to a man of wealth. He liked his wealth to be\nacknowledged, for it was part of himself: he had created it; and it was\nwith pride that he continued his letter to Hanan recommending his son to\nhim, saying that anything that was done to further Joseph's interests\nwould be a greater favour than any that could be conferred on himself.\n\nThe letter was sent off by special messenger and Joseph was enjoined to\ncarry it himself at once to Hanan, which he did, since it was his\nfather's pleasure that he should do so. He would have preferred to be\nallowed to pick his friends from among the people he met casually, but\nsince this was not to be he assumed the necessary reverence and came\nforward in the proper spirit to meet Hanan, who expressed himself as\nentirely gratified by Joseph's presence in Jerusalem and promised to\nsupport his election for the Sanhedrin. But if the councillors reject\nme? For you see I am still a young man. The innocency of Joseph's remark\npleased Hanan, who smiled over it, expressing a muttered hope that the\nSanhedrin would not take upon itself the task of discussing the merits\nand qualifications of those whom he should deem worthy to present for\nelection. The great man purred out these sentences, Joseph's remark\nhaving reminded him of his exalted position. But thinking his remark\nhad nettled Hanan, Joseph said: you see I have only just come to\nJerusalem; and this remark continued the flattery, and with an impulsive\nmovement Hanan took Joseph's hands and spoke to him about his father in\nterms that made Joseph feel very proud of Dan, and also of being in\nJerusalem, which had already begun to seem to him more wonderful than he\nhad imagined it to be: and he had imagined it very wonderful indeed. But\nthere was a certain native shrewdness in Joseph; and after leaving the\nHigh Priest's place he had not taken many steps before he began to see\nthrough Hanan's plans: which no doubt are laid with the view to impress\nme with the magnificence of Jerusalem and its priesthood. He walked a\nfew yards farther, and remembered that there are always dissensions\namong the Jews, and that the son of a rich man (one of first-rate\nimportance in Galilee) would be a valuable acquisition to the priestly\ncaste.\n\nBut though he saw through Hanan's designs, he was still the dupe of\nHanan, who was a clever man and a learned man; his importance loomed up\nvery large, and Joseph could not be without a hero, true or false; so it\ncould not be otherwise than that Hanan and Kaiaphas and the Sadducees,\nwhom Joseph met in the Sanhedrin and whose houses he frequented,\ncommanded his admiration for several months and would have held it for\nmany months more, had it not been that he happened to be a genuinely\nreligious man, concerned much more with an intimate sense of God than\nwith the slaying of bullocks and rams.\n\nHe had accepted the sacrifices as part of a ritual which should not be\nquestioned and which he had never questioned: yet, without discussion,\nwithout argument, they fell in his estimation without pain, as naturally\nas a leaf falls. A friend quoted to him a certain well-known passage in\nIsaiah, and not the whole of it: only a few words; and from that moment\nthe Temple, the priests and the sacrifices became every day more\ndistasteful to him than they were the day before, setting him pondering\non the mind of the man who lives upon religion while laughing in his\nbeard at his dupe; he contrasted him with the fellow that drives in his\nbeast for slaughter and pays his yearly dole; he remembered how he loved\nthe prophets instinctively though the priests always seemed a little\nalien, even before he knew them. Yet he never imagined them to be as far\nfrom true religion (which is the love of God) as he found them; for they\ndid not try to conceal their scepticism from him: knowing him to be a\nfriend of the High Priest, it had seemed to them that they might indulge\ntheir wit as they pleased, and once he had even to reprove some priests,\nso blasphemous did their jests appear to him. An unusually fat bullock\ncaused them to speak of the fine regalement he would be to Jahveh's\nnostrils. One sacristan, mentioning the sacred name, figured Jahveh as\npressing forward with dilated nostrils. There is no belly in heaven, he\nsaid: its joys are entirely olfactory, and when this beast is smoking,\nJahveh will call down the angels Michael and Gabriel. As if not\nsatisfied with this blasphemy, as if it were not enough, he turned to\nthe sacristans by him, to ask them if they could not hear the angels\nsniffing as they leaned forward out of their clouds. My priests are\ndoing splendidly: the fat of this beast is delicious in our nostrils;\nwere the words he attributed to Jahveh. Michael and Gabriel, he said,\nwould reply: it is indeed as thou sayest, Sire!\n\nJoseph marvelled that priests could speak like this, and tried to forget\nthe vile things they said, but they were unforgettable: he treasured\nthem in his heart, for he could not do else, and when he did speak, it\nwas at first cautiously, though there was little need for caution; for\nhe found to his surprise that everybody knew that the Sadducees did not\nbelieve in a future life and very little in the dogma that the Jews were\nthe sect chosen by God, Jahveh. He was their God and had upheld the\nJewish race, but for all practical purposes it was better to put their\nfaith henceforth in the Romans, who would defend Jerusalem against all\nbarbarians. It was necessary to observe the Sabbath and to preach its\nobservances and to punish those who violated it, for on the Sabbath\nrested the entire superstructure of the Temple itself, and all belief\nmight topple if the Sabbath was not maintained, and rigorously. In the\nhouses of the Sadducees Joseph heard these very words, and their crude\nscepticism revolted his tender soul: he was drawn back to his own sect,\nthe Pharisees, for however narrow-minded and fanatical they might be he\ncould not deny to them the virtue of sincerity. It was with a delightful\nsense of community of spirit that he returned to them, and in the\nconviction that it would be well to let pass without protest the\nobservances which himself long ago in Galilee began to look upon with\namusement.\n\nA sudden recollection of the discussion that had arisen in the yard\nbehind the counting-house, whether an egg could be eaten if it had been\nlaid the day after the Sabbath, brought a smile to his face, but a\ndifferent smile from of yore, for he understood now better than he had\nunderstood then, that this (in itself a ridiculous) question was no\nmore serious than a bramble that might for a moment entangle the garment\nof a wayfarer: of little account was the delay, if the feet were on the\nright road. Now the scruple of conscience that the question had awakened\nmight be considered as a desire to live according to a law which,\nobserved for generations, had become part of the national sense and\nspirit. On this he fell to thinking that it is only by laws and\ntraditions that we may know ourselves--whence we have come and whither\nwe are going. He attributed to these laws and traditions the love of the\nJewish race for their God, and their desire to love God, and to form\ntheir lives in obedience to what they believed to be God's will. Without\nthese rites and observances their love of God would not have survived.\nIt was not by exaggeration of these laws but by the scepticism of the\nSadducees that the Temple was polluted. If the priests degraded religion\nand made a vile thing of it, there were others that ennobled the Temple\nby their piety.\n\nAnd as these thoughts passed through Joseph's mind, his eyes went to the\nsimple folk who never asked themselves whether they were Sadducees or\nPharisees, but were content to pray around the Temple that the Lord\nwould not take them away till they witnessed the triumph of Israel,\nnever asking if the promised resurrection would be obtained in this\nworld--if not in each individual case, by the race itself--or whether\nthey would all be lifted by angels out of their graves and carried away\nby them into a happy immortality.\n\nThe simple folk on whom Joseph's eyes rested favourably, prayed,\nuntroubled by difficult questions: they were content to love God; and,\ncaptured by their simple unquestioning faith, which he felt to be the\nonly spiritual value in this world, he was glad to turn away from both\nSadducees and Pharisees and mix with them. Sometimes, and to his great\nregret, he brought about involuntarily the very religious disputations\nthat it was his object to quit for ever when he withdrew himself from\nthe society of the Pharisees. A chance word was enough to set some of\nthem by the ears, asking each other whether the soul may or can descend\nagain into the corruptible body; and it was one day when this question\nwas being disputed that a disputant, pressing forward, announced his\nbelief that the soul, being alone immortal, does not attempt to regain\nthe temple of the body. A doctrine which astonished Joseph, so simple\ndid it seem and so reasonable; and as he stood wondering why he had not\nthought of it himself, his eyes telling his perplexity, he was awakened\nfrom his dream, and his awakening was caused by the word \"Essene.\" He\nasked for a meaning to be put upon it, to the great astonishment of the\npeople, who were not aware that the fame of this third sect of the Jews\nwas not yet spread into Galilee. There were many willing to instruct\nhim, and almost the first thing he learnt about them was that they were\nnot viewed with favour in Jerusalem, for they did not send animals to\nthe Temple for sacrifice, deeming blood-letting a crime. A still more\nfundamental tenet of this sect was its denial of private property: all\nthey had, belonged to one brother as much as to another, and they lived\nin various places, avoiding cities, and setting up villages of their own\naccord; notably one on the eastern bank of the Jordan, from whence\nrecruiting missionaries sometimes came forth, for the Essenes disdained\nmarriage, and relied on proselytism for the maintenance of the order.\nThe rule of the Essenes, however, did not exclude marriage because they\nbelieved the end of the world was drawing nigh, but because they wished\nto exclude all pleasure from life. To do this, to conceive the duty of\nman to be a cheerful exclusion of all pleasure, seemed to Joseph\nwonderful, an exaltation of the spirit that he had not hitherto believed\nman to be capable of: and one night, while thinking of these things, he\nfell on a resolve that he would go to Jericho on the morrow to see for\nhimself if all the tales he heard about the brethren were true. At the\nsame time he looked forward to getting away from the seven windy hills\nwhere the sun had not been seen for days, only grey vapour coiling and\nuncoiling and going out, and where, with a patter of rain in his ears,\nhe was for many days crouching up to a fire for warmth.\n\nBut in Jericho he would be as it were back in Galilee: a pleasant winter\nresort, to be reached easily in a day by a path through the hills, so\nplainly traced by frequent usage that a guide was not needed. A servant\nhe could not bring with him, for none was permitted in the cenoby, a\ndifferent mode and colour of life prevailing there from any he ever\nheard of, but he hoped to range himself to it, and--thinking how this\nmight be done--he rode round the hillside, coming soon into view of\nBethany over against the desert. From thence he proceeded by long\ndescents into a land tossed into numberless hills and torn up into such\ndeep valleys that it seemed to him to be a symbol of God's anger in a\nmoment of great provocation. Or maybe, he said to himself, these valleys\nare the ruts of the celestial chariot that passed this way to take\nElijah up to heaven? Or maybe ... His mind was wandering, and--forgetful\nof the subject of his meditation--he looked round and could see little\nelse but strange shapes of cliffs and boulders, rocks and lofty scarps\nenwrapped in mist so thick that he fell to thinking whence came the\nfume? For rocks are breathless, he said, and there are only rocks here,\nonly rocks and patches of earth in which the peasants sow patches of\nbarley. At that moment his mule slid in the slime of the path to within\na few inches of a precipice, and Joseph uttered a cry before the gulf\nwhich startled a few rain-drenched crows that went away cawing, making\nthe silence more melancholy than before. A few more inches, Joseph\nthought, and we should have been over, though a mule has never been\nknown to walk or to slide over a precipice. A moment after, his mule was\nclimbing up a heap of rubble; and when they were at the top Joseph\nlooked over the misted gulf, thinking that if the animal had crossed his\nlegs mule and rider would both be at the bottom of a ravine by now. And\nthe crows that my cry startled, he said, would soon return, scenting\nblood. He rode on, thinking of the three crows, and when he returned to\nhimself the mule was about to pass under a projecting rock, regardless,\nhe thought, of the man on his back, but the sagacious animal had taken\nhis rider's height into his consideration, so it seemed, for at least\nthree inches were to spare between Joseph's head and the rock. Nor did\nthe mule's sagacity end here; for finding no trace of the path on the\nother side he started to climb the steep hill as a goat might,\nfrightening Joseph into a tug or two at the bridle, to which the mule\ngave no heed but continued the ascent with conviction and after a little\ncircuit among intricate rocks turned down the hill again and slid into\nthe path almost on his haunches. A wonderful animal truly! Joseph said,\nmarvelling greatly; he guessed that the path lay under the mass of\nrubble come down in some landslip. He knew he would meet it farther on:\nhe may have been this way before. A wonderful animal all the same, a\nperfect animal, if he could be persuaded not to walk within ten inches\nof the brink! and Joseph drew the mule away to the right, under the\nhillside, but a few minutes after, divining that his rider's thoughts\nwere lost in those strange argumentations common to human beings, the\nmule returned to the brink, out of reach of any projecting rocks. He was\nhappily content to follow the twisting road, giving no faintest\nattention to the humped hills always falling into steep valleys and\nalways rising out of steep valleys, as round and humped as the hills\nthat were left behind. Joseph noticed the hills, but the mule did not:\nhe only knew the beginning and the end of his journey, whereas Joseph\nbegan very soon to be concerned to learn how far they were come, and as\nthere was nobody about who could tell him he reined up his mule, which\nbegan to seek herbage--a dandelion, an anemone, a tuft of wild\nrosemary--while his rider meditated on the whereabouts of the inn. The\nroad, he said, winds round the highest of these hills, reaching at last\na tableland half-way between Jerusalem and Jericho, and on the top of it\nis the inn. We shall see it as soon as yon cloud lifts.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. VI.\n\n\nA few wanderers loitered about the inn: they came from Mount Sinai, so\nthe innkeeper said; he mentioned that they had a camel and an ass in the\npaddock; and Joseph was surprised by the harshness with which the\ninnkeeper rushed from him and told the wanderers that they waited in\nvain.\n\nThey were strange and fierce, remote like the desert, whence they had\ncome; and he was afraid of them like the innkeeper, but began to pity\nthem when he heard that they had not tasted food for a fortnight, only a\nlittle camel's milk. They're waiting for me to give them the rinsings,\nthe innkeeper said, if any should remain at the bottom of the barrel:\nyou see, all water has to be brought to the inn in an ox-cart. There's\nno well on the hills and we sell water to those who can afford to pay\nfor it. Then let the man drink his fill, Joseph answered, and his wife\ntoo. And his eyes examined the woman curiously, for he never saw so mean\na thing before: her small beady eyes were like a rat's, and her skin was\nnearly as brown. Twenty years of desert wandering leave them like\nmummies, he reflected; and the child, whom the mother enjoined to come\nforward and to speak winningly to the rich man, though in her early\nteens was as lean and brown and ugly as her mother. Marauders they\nsometimes were, but now they seemed so poor that Joseph thought he could\nnever have seen poverty before, and took pleasure in distributing figs\namongst them. Let them not see your money when you pay me, the innkeeper\nsaid, for half a shekel they would have my life, and many's the time\nthey'd have had it if Pilate, our governor, had not sent me a guard. The\ntwain spoke of the new procurator till Joseph mounted his mule. I'll see\nthat none of them follow you, the innkeeper whispered; and Joseph rode\naway down the lower hills, alongside of precipices and through narrow\ndefiles, following the path, which debouched at last on to a shallow\nvalley full of loose stones and rocks. I suppose the mule knows best,\nJoseph said, and he held the bridle loosely and watched the rain,\nregretting that the downpour should have begun in so exposed a place,\nbut so convinced did the animal seem that the conduct of the journey\nshould be left entirely to his judgment that it was vain to ask him to\nhasten his pace, and he continued to clamber down loose heaps of stones,\nseeking every byway unnecessarily, Joseph could not help thinking, but\nbringing his rider and himself safely, he was forced to admit, at the\nfoot of the hills over against Jericho. Another toiling ascent was\nbegun, and Joseph felt a trickle of rain down his spine, while the mule\nseemed to debate with himself whether shelter was to be sought, and\nspying a rock a little way up the hillside he trotted straight to it and\nentered the cave--the rock projected so far beyond a hill that it might\nbe called a cave, and better shelter from the rain they could not have\nfound. A wonderful animal, thou'rt surely, knowing everything, Joseph\nsaid, and the mule shook the rain out of his long ears, and Joseph stood\nat the mouth of the cave, watching the rain falling and gathering into\npools among the rocks, wondering the while if this land was cast away\ninto desert by the power of the Almighty God because of the worship of\nthe Golden Calf; and then remembering that it was cast into desert for\nthe sins of the cities of the plain, he said: how could I have thought\nelse? As soon as this rain ceases we will go up the defile and at the\nend of it the lake will lie before us deep down under the Moab\nmountains. He remembered too that he would have to reach to the cenoby\nbefore the day was over, or else sleep in Jericho.\n\nThe sky seemed to be brightening: at that moment he heard footsteps. He\nwas unarmed and the hills were infested by robbers. The steps continued\nto approach....\n\nHis hope was that the man might be some innocent shepherd in search of a\nlost ewe: if he were a robber, that he might pass on, unsuspicious of a\ntraveller seeking shelter from the rain in a cave a little way up the\nhillside. The man came into view of the cave and stood for some time in\nfront of it, his back turned to Joseph, looking round the sky, and then,\nlike one who has lost hope in the weather, he hastened on his way. As\nsoon as he was out of sight, Joseph led out his mule, clambered into the\nsaddle, and digging his heels into the mule's sides, galloped the best\npart of a mile till he reached the Roman fort overlooking the valley. If\na robber was to emerge, a Roman soldier would speedily come to his\nassistance; but behind him and the fort were some excellent\nlurking-places, Joseph thought, for robbers, and again his heels went\ninto his mule. But this time, as if he knew that haste was no longer\nnecessary, the mule hitched up his back and jangled his bells so loudly\nthat again Joseph's heart stood still. He was within sight of Jericho,\nbut half-way down the descent a group of men were waiting, as if for\ntravellers. His best chance was to consider them as harmless passengers,\nso he rode on, and the beggars--for they were no more--held up maimed\nleprous limbs to excite his pity.\n\nHe was now within two miles of Jericho, and he rode across the sandy\nplain, thinking of the Essenes and the cenoby on the other side of\nJordan. He rode in full meditation, and it was not till he was nigh the\ntown of Jericho that he attempted to think by which ford he should cross\nJordan: whether by ferry, in which case he must leave his mule in\nJericho; or by a ford higher up the stream, if there was a ford\npracticable at this season; which is doubtful, he said to himself, as he\ncame within view of the swollen river. And he hearkened to one who\ndeclared the river to be dangerous to man and beast: but another told\nhim differently, and being eager to reach the cenoby he determined to\ntest the ford.\n\nIf the water proved too strong he would return to Jericho, but the mule\nplunged forward, and at one moment it was as like as not that the flood\nwould carry them away into the lake beyond, but Joseph's weight enabled\nthe animal to keep on his hooves, and the water shallowing suddenly, the\nmule reached the opposite bank. It was my weight that saved us, Joseph\nsaid; and dismounting, he waited for the panting animal to recover\nbreath. We only just did it. The way to the cenoby? he called out to a\npassenger along the bank, and was told he must hasten, for the Essenes\ndid not receive anybody after sunset: which may or may not be true, he\nmuttered, as he pursued his way, his eyes attracted and amused by the\nlong shadow that himself and his mule projected over the wintry earth.\nHe was tempted to tickle the animal's long ears with a view to altering\nthe silhouette, and then his thoughts ran on into the cenoby and what\nmight befall him yonder; for that must be it, he said, looking forward\nand discovering a small village on the lower slopes of the hills, on the\nground shelving down towards the river.\n\nHis mule, scenting food and rest, began to trot, though very tired, and\nhalf-an-hour afterwards Joseph rode into a collection of huts,\ngrouped--but without design--round a central building which he judged to\nbe an assembly hall whither the curators, of whom he had heard, met for\nthe transaction of the business of the community. And no doubt, he said,\nit serves for a refectory, for the midday meal which gathers all the\nbrethren for the breaking of bread. As he was thinking of these things,\none of the brethren laid hands on the bridle and asked him whom he might\nbe wishing to see; to which question Joseph answered: the Head. The\nbrother replied: so be it; and tethered the mule to a post at the corner\nof the central hut, begging Joseph to enter and seat himself on one of\nthe benches, of which there were many, and a table long enough to seat\nsome fifty or sixty.\n\nHe recognised the place he was in as the refectory, where the rite of\nthe breaking of bread was accomplished. To-morrow I shall witness it, he\nsaid, and felt like dancing and singing in his childish eagerness. But\nthe severity of the hall soon quieted his mood, and he remembered he\nmust collect his thoughts and prepare his story for recital, for he\nwould be asked to give an account of himself. As he was preparing his\nstory, the president entered: a tall man of bulk, with the pallor of age\nin his face and in the hand that lifted the black taffeta cap from his\nhead. The courteousness of the greeting did more than to put Joseph at\nhis ease, as the saying is. In a few moments he was confiding himself to\nthis man of kindly dignity, whose voice was low, who seemed to speak\nalways from the heart, and it was wholly delightful to tell the great\nEssene that he was come from Galilee to attend the Feast of the Passover\nin his father's place, and that after having allied himself in turn to\nthe Sadducees and the Pharisees he came to hear of the Essenes: I have\ncome thither, hoping to find the truth here. You have truthful eyes,\nsaid the president; and, thus encouraged, Joseph told that there were\nsome in the Temple, the poor who worship God daily with a whole heart.\nIt was from them, he said, that I heard of your doctrines. Of which you\ncan have obtained only the merest outline, the president answered; and\nperhaps when you know us better our rule may seem too hard for you to\nfollow, or it may be that you will feel that you are called to worship\nGod differently from us. But it matters naught how we worship, if our\nworship come from the heart.\n\nThe word \"heart\" startled Joseph out of himself, and his eyes falling at\nthat moment on the Essene he was moved to these words: Father, I could\nnever disobey thee. Let me stay, put me to the tests. But the tests are\nlong, the president answered; we would not suffer you to return to\nJericho to-night, even if you wished it. Your mule is tired and would be\nswept away by the descending flood. You will remain with us for to-night\nand for as long after it as pleases you--to the end of your\nprobationship and after, if you prove yourself worthy of admission.\nMeanwhile you will be given a girdle, a white garment and a little axe.\nYou will sleep in one of the outlying huts. Come with me and I will take\nyou round our village. We shall meet on our way some of the brothers\nreturning from their daily tasks, for we all have a craft: many of us\nare husbandmen; the two coming towards us carrying spades are from the\nfields, and that one turning down the lane is a shepherd; he has just\nfolded his flock, but he will return to them with his dogs, for we\nsuffer a great deal from the ravages of wild beasts with which the woods\nare thronged, wolves especially. In our community there are healers, and\nthese study the medicinal properties of herbs. If you resolve to remain\nwith us, you will choose a craft.\n\nJoseph mentioned that the only craft he knew was dry-salting, and it was\ndisappointing to hear that there were no fish in the lake.\n\nThere is a long time of probationship before one is admitted, the\npresident continued, and when that is concluded another long time must\npass over before the proselyte is called to join us at the common\nrepasts. Before he breaks bread with us he must bind himself by oath to\nbe always pious towards the Divinity, to observe justice towards men,\nand to injure no one voluntarily or by command: to hate always the\nunjust and never to shrink from taking part in the conflict on the side\nof the just; to show fidelity to all and especially to those who rule.\nThou'lt soon begin to understand that rule doesn't fall to anyone except\nby the will of God. I have never deserved to rule, but headship came to\nme, he added half sadly, as if he feared he had not been sufficiently\nexacting. After asking Joseph whether he felt himself strong enough to\nobey so severe a rule, he passed from father to teacher. Every one of\nus must love truth and make it his purpose to confute those who speak\nfalsehood; to keep his hands from stealing and his soul from unjust\ngain. He must never conceal anything from a member of the order, nor\nreveal its secrets to others, even if he should have to suffer death by\nwithholding them; and above all, while trying to engage proselytes he\nmust speak the doctrines only as he has heard them from us. Thou'lt\nreturn perhaps to Jerusalem....\n\nHe broke off to speak to the brothers who were passing into the village\nfrom their daily work, and presented Joseph as one who, shocked by the\nservice of the Sadducees in the Temple, had come desiring admission to\ntheir order. At the news of a new adherent, the faces of the brothers\nbecame joyous; for though the rule seems hard when related, they said,\nin practice, even at first, it seems light enough, and soon we do not\nfeel it at all.\n\nThey were now on the outskirts of the village, and pointing to a cabin\nthe Essene told Joseph that he would sleep there and enter on the morrow\nupon his probationship. But, Father, may I not hear more? If a brother\nbe found guilty of sin, will he be cast out of the order? The president\nanswered that if one having been admitted to their community committed\nsins deserving of death, he was cast out and often perished by a most\nwretched fate, for being bound by oath and customs he could not even\nreceive food from others but must eat grass, and with his body worn by\nfamine he perishes. Unless, the president added, we have pity on him at\nthe last breath and think he has suffered sufficiently for his sins.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. VII.\n\n\nThe hut that Joseph was bidden to enter was the last left in the cenoby\nfor allotment, four proselytes having arrived last month.\n\nNo better commodity have we for the moment, the curator said, struck by\nthe precarious shelter the hut offered--a crazy door and a roof that let\nthe starlight through at one end of the wall. But the rains are over, he\nadded, and the coverlet is a warm one. On this he left Joseph, whom the\nbell would call to orison, too tired to sleep, turning vaguely from side\nto side, trying to hush the thoughts that hurtled through his clear\nbrain--that stars endure for ever, but the life of the palm-tree was as\nthe life of the man who fed on its fruit. The tree lived one hundred\nyears, and among the Essenes a centenarian was no rare thing, but of\nwhat value to live a hundred years in the monotonous life of the cenoby?\nAnd in his imagination, heightened by insomnia, the Essenes seemed to\nhim like the sleeping trees. If he remained he would become like them,\nwhile his father lived alone in Galilee! Dan rose up before him and he\ncould find no sense in the assurances he had given the president that he\nwished to be admitted into the order. He seemed no longer to desire\nadmission, and if he did desire it he could not, for his father's sake,\naccept the admission. Then why had he talked as he had done to the\npresident? He could not tell: and it must have been while lying on his\nright side, trying to understand himself, what he was and why he was in\nthe cenoby, that he fell into that deep and dreamless sleep from which\nhe was awakened by a bell, and so suddenly that it seemed to him that he\nhad not been asleep more than a few minutes. It was no doubt the bell\nfor morning prayer: and only half awake he repaired with the other\nproselytes to the part of the village open to the sunrise.\n\nAll the Essenes were assembled there, and he learnt that they looked\nupon this prayer of thanksgiving for the return of light as the\nimportant event of the day. He joined in it, though he suspected a\ncertain idolatry in the prayer. It seemed to him that the Essenes were\npraying for the sun to rise; but to do this would be to worship the sun\nin some measure, and to look upon the sun as in some degree a God, he\nfeared; but the Essenes were certainly very pious Jews. What else they\nwere, time would reveal to him: a few days would be enough; and long\nbefore the prayer was finished he was thinking of his father in Galilee\nand what his face would tell, were he to see his son bowing before the\nsun. But the Essenes were not really worshipping the sun but praying to\nGod that the sun might rise and give them light again to continue their\ndaily work. One whole day at least he must spend in the cenoby,\nand--feeling that he was becoming interested again in the Essenes--he\nbegan to form a plan to stay some time with them.\n\nOn rising from his knees, he thought he might stay for some weeks. But\nif the Essene brotherhood succeeded in persuading him that his fate was\nto abandon his father and the trade that awaited him in Galilee and the\nwife who awaited him somewhere? His father often said: Joseph, you are\nthe last of our race. I hope to see with you a good wife who will bear\nyou children, for I should like to bless my grandchildren before I die.\nThe Essenes would at least free him from the necessity of telling his\nfather that there was no heart in him for a wife; and if he did not take\na wife, he might become---- One of the curators whispered to him the use\nhe should make of the little axe, and he followed the other proselytes;\nand having found a place where the earth was soft, each dug a hole about\na foot deep, into which they eased themselves, afterwards filling up the\nhole with the earth that had been taken out. Joseph then went down with\nthem to a source for purifications, and these being finished the\nproselytes grouped themselves round Joseph, anxious to become acquainted\nwith the last recruit, and asking all together what provision of food he\nhad made for himself for that day: if he had made none, he would have to\ngo without food, for only those who were admitted into the order were\nsuffered to the common repasts. A serious announcement, he said, to make\nto a man at break of day who knew nothing of these things yesterday, and\nhe asked how his omission might be repaired. He must ask for permission\nto go to Jericho to buy food. As he was going there on a mule, he might\nbring back food not only for himself but for all of them: enough lentils\nto last a week; and he inquired what else they were permitted to eat--if\neggs were forbidden? At which the proselytes clapped their hands. A\nbasket of eggs! A basket of eggs! And some honey! cried another. Figs!\ncried a third; we haven't tasted any for a month. But my mule's back\nwill not bear all that you require, Joseph answered. Our mule! cried the\nproselytes; all property is held in common. Even the fact of my mule\nhaving become common property, Joseph said, will not enable him to\ncarry more than his customary burden, and the goods will embarrass me.\nIf the mule belongs to the community, then I am the mule driver, the\nprovider of the community. Constituted such by thy knowledge of the\naptitudes and temper and strength of the animal! cried a proselyte after\nhim, and he went away to seek out one of the curators; for it is not\npermissible for an Essene to go to Jericho without having gotten\npermission. Of course the permission was at once granted, and while\nsaddling his mule for the journey the memory of the river overnight now\ncaused Joseph to hesitate and to think that he might find himself return\nempty-handed to the plump of proselytes now waiting to see him start.\n\nBut if thou crossed the river yesterday, there is no reason why thou\nshouldn't cross it in safety now, cried one. But forget not the basket\nof eggs, said a second. Nor the honey, mentioned a third, and a fourth\ncalled after him the quality of lentils he enjoyed. The mind of the\nfifth regarding food was not expressed, for a curator came by and\nreproved them, saying they were mere belly-worshippers.\n\nThere will be less water in the river than there was overnight, the\ncurator said, and Joseph hoped he was right, for it would be a harsh and\ndisagreeable death to drown in a lake so salt that fish could not live\nin it. True, one would escape being eaten by fishes; but if the mule be\ncarried away, he said to himself, drown I shall, long before I reach the\nlake, unless indeed I strike out and swim--which, it seemed to him,\nmight be the best way to save his life--and if there be no current in\nthe lake I can gain the shore easily. But the first sight of the river\nproved the vanity of his foreboding, for during the night it had emptied\na great part of its flood into the lake. The struggle in getting his\nmule across was slight; still slighter when he returned with a sack of\nlentils, a basket of eggs, some pounds of honey and many misgivings as\nto whether he should announce this last commodity to the curator or\nintroduce it surreptitiously. To begin his probationship with a\nsurreptitious act would disgrace him in the eyes of the prior, whose\ngood opinion he valued above all. So did his thoughts run on till he\ncame within sight of a curator, who told him that sometimes, on the\nfirst day of probationship, honey and figs were allowed.\n\nThe cooking of the food and the eating of it in the only cabin in which\nthere were conveniences for eating helped the time away, and Joseph\nbegan to ask himself how long his cloistral life was going to endure,\nfor he seemed to have lost all desire to leave it, and had begun to turn\nthe different crafts over in his mind and to debate which he should\nchoose to put his hand to. Of husbandry he was as ignorant as a crow,\nnor could he tell poisonous pastures from wholesome, nor could he help\nin the bakery. At first venture there seemed to be no craft for him to\nfollow, since fish did not thrive in the Salt Lake and the fisherman's\nart could not be practised, he was told, in the Jordan, for the Essenes\nwere not permitted to kill any living thing.\n\nWhile laying emphasis on this rule, the curator cracked a flea under his\nrobe, but Joseph did not call his attention to his disobedience, but\nbowed his head and left him to the scruple of conscience which he hoped\nwould awaken in him later.\n\nBefore this had time to come to pass, the curator called after him and\nsuggested that he might teach Hebrew to the four proselytes, whose\nknowledge of that language had seemed to Mathias, their instructor,\ndisgracefully weak. They were all from Alexandria, like their teacher,\nand read the Scriptures in Greek; but the Essenes, so said the curator,\nmust read the Scriptures in Hebrew; and the teaching of Hebrew, Mathias\nsaid to Joseph, takes me away from my important work, but it may amuse\nyou to teach them. Our father may accept you as a sufficient teacher: go\nto him for examination.\n\nA little talk and a few passages read from the Scriptures satisfied the\npresident that Joseph was the assistant teacher that had been so long\ndesired in the community, and he spoke to Joseph soothingly of Mathias,\nwhose life work was the true interpretation of the Scriptures. But did\nthe Scriptures need interpretation? Joseph asked himself, not daring to\nput questions to the president; and on an early occasion he asked\nMathias what the president meant when he spoke of a true interpretation\nof the Scriptures, and was told that the true meaning of the Scriptures\nlay below the literal meaning. There can be no doubt, he said, that the\nScriptures must be regarded as allegories; and he explained to Joseph\nthat he devoted all his intellect to discovering and explaining these\nallegories, a task demanding extraordinary assiduity, for they lay\nconcealed in what seemed to the vulgar eye mere statements of fact: as\nif, he added scornfully, God chose the prophets for no better end than a\nmere relation of facts! He was willing, however, to concede that his\nmanner of treating the Scriptures was not approved by the entire\ncommunity, but in view of his learning, the proselytes were admitted to\nhis lectures--one of the innovations of the prior, who, in spite of all,\nremained one of his supporters.\n\nTo the end of his life Joseph kept in his memory the moment when he sat\nin the corner of the hall, his eyes fixed upon Mathias's young and\nbeautiful profile, clear cut, hard and decisive as the profiles of the\nyoung gods that decorated the Greek coins which shocked him in C\u00e6sarea.\nHis memory of Mathias was as partial; but he knew the president's full\nface, and while pondering on it he remembered that he had never seen him\nin profile. Nor was this all that set the two men apart in Joseph's\nconsciousness. The prior's simple and homely language came from the\nheart, entered the heart and was remembered, whereas Mathias spoke from\nhis brain. The heart is simple and always the same, but the brain is\ncomplex and various; and therefore it was natural that Mathias should\nhold, as if in fee, a great store of verbal felicities, and that he\nshould translate all shades of thought at once into words.\n\nHis mind moved in a rich, erudite and complex syntax that turned all\nopposition into admiration. Even the president, who had been listening\nto theology all his life and had much business to attend to, must fain\nneglect some of it for the pleasure of listening to Mathias when he\nlectured. Even Saddoc, the most orthodox Jew in the cenoby, Mathias\ncould keep as it were chained to his seat. He resented and spurned the\nallegory, but the beautiful voice that brought out sentence after\nsentence, like silk from off a spool, enticed his thoughts away from it.\nThe language used in the cenoby was Aramaic, and never did Joseph hear\nthat language spoken so beautifully. It seemed to him that he was\nlistening to a new language and on leaving the hall he told Mathias that\nit had seemed to him that he was listening to Aramaic for the first\ntime. Mathias answered him--blushing a little, Joseph thought--that he\nhoped one of these days, in Egypt perhaps, if Joseph ever went there, to\nlecture to him in Greek. He liked Aramaic for other purposes, but for\nphilosophy there was but one language. But you speak Greek and are now\nteaching Greek, so let us speak it when we are together, Mathias said,\nand if I detect any incorrectness I will warn you against it.\n\nThat Mathias should choose to speak to him in Greek was flattering\nindeed, and Joseph, who had not spoken Greek for many months, began to\nprattle, but he had not said many words before Mathias interrupted him\nand said: you must have learnt Greek very young. This remark turned the\ntalk on to Azariah; and Mathias listened to Joseph's account of his\ntutor carelessly, interrupting him when he had heard enough with a\nremark anent the advancement of the spring, to which Joseph did not know\nhow to reply, so suddenly had his thoughts been jerked away from the\nsubject he was pursuing. You have the full Jewish mind, Mathias\ncontinued; interested in moral ideas rather than beauty: without eyes\nfor the village. True that you see it in winter plight, but in the near\nseason all the fields will be verdant and the lintels running over with\nflowers. He waited for Joseph to defend himself, but Joseph did not know\nfor certain that Mathias was not right--perhaps he was more interested\nin moral ideas than in beauty. However this might be, he began to\nexperience an aversion, and might have taken leave of Mathias if they\nhad not come upon the president. He stopped to speak to them; and having\ncongratulated Mathias on having fortuned at last on an efficient teacher\nof Hebrew and Greek, and addressed a few kindly words directly to Joseph\nand taken his hand in his, the head of the community bade them both\ngood-bye, saying that important business needed his presence. He sped\naway on his business, but he seemed to leave something of himself\nbehind, and even Mathias was perforce distracted from his search of a\nphilosophic point of view and indulged himself in the luxury of a simple\nremark. His goodness, he said, is so natural, like the air we breathe\nand the bread we eat, and that is why we all love him, and why all\ndissension vanishes at the approach of our president; a remarkable man.\n\nThe most wonderful I have ever seen, Joseph answered: a remark that did\nnot altogether please Mathias, for he added: his power is in himself,\nfor he is altogether without philosophy.\n\nJoseph was moved to ask Mathias if the charm that himself experienced\nwas not an entire absence of philosophy. But he did not dare to rouse\nMathias, whom he feared, and his curiosity overcame his sense of loyalty\nto the president. If he were to take his leave abruptly, he would have\nto return alone to the village to seek the four proselytes, but their\ncompanionship did not attract him, and he found himself at that moment\nunable to deny himself the pleasure of the sweet refreshing evening air,\nwhich as they approached the river seemed to grow sweeter. The river\nitself was more attractive than he had yet seen it, and there was that\nsadness upon it which we notice when a rainy day passes into a fine\nevening. The clouds were rolling on like a battle--pennants flying in\nsplendid array, leaving the last row of hills outlined against a clear\nspace of sky; and, with his eyes fixed on the cliffs over against the\ncoasts of the lake, Mathias let his thoughts run after his favourite\nabstractions: the relation of God to time and place. As he dreamed his\nmetaphysics, he answered Joseph's questions from time to time,\nmanifesting, however, so little interest in them that at last Joseph\nfelt he could bear it no longer, and resolved to leave him. But just as\nhe was about to bid him good-bye, Mathias said that the Essenes were\npious Jews who were content with mere piety, but mere piety was not\nenough: God had given to man a mind, and therefore desired man to\nmeditate, not on his own nature--which was trivial and passing--but on\nGod's nature, which was important and eternal.\n\nThis remark revealed a new scope for inquiry to Joseph, who was\ninterested in the Essenes; but his search was for miracles and prophets\nrather than ideas, and if he tarried among the Essenes it was because he\nhad come upon two great men. He fell to considering the question afresh,\nand--forgetful of Mathias's admonitions that the business of man is to\nmeditate on the nature of God--he said: the Essenes perform no miracles\nand do not prophesy;--an interruption to Mathias's loquacity which the\nother took with a better grace than Joseph had expected--for no one ever\ndared before to interrupt Mathias. Joseph had done so accidentally and\nexpected a very fine reproof, but Mathias checked his indignation and\ntold Joseph that Manahem, an Essene, had foreknowledge of future events\ngiven to him by God: for when he was a child and going to school,\nManahem saw Herod and saluted him as king of the Jews; and Herod,\nthinking the boy was in jest or did not know him, told him he was but a\nprivate citizen; whereat Manahem smiled to himself, and clapping Herod\non the backside with his hand said: thou wilt be king and wilt begin thy\nreign happily, for God finds thee worthy. And then, as if enough was\nsaid on this subject, Mathias began to diverge from it, mixing up the\nstory with many admonitions and philosophical reflections, very wise and\nsalutary, but not what Joseph cared to hear at that moment. He was in\nno wise interested at that moment to hear that he had done well in\ntesting all the different sects of the Jews, and though the Essenes were\ncertainly the most learned, they did not possess the whole truth. With a\ndetermination that was impossible to oppose, Mathias said: the whole\ntruth is not to be found, even among the Essenes, and, my good friend, I\nwould not encourage in you a hope that you may be permitted ever during\nyour mortal life to discover the whole truth. It exists not in any\ncreated thing: but glimpses of the light are often detected, now here,\nnow there, shining through a clouded vase. But the simile, he added, of\nthe clouded vase gives rise to the thought that the light resides within\nthe vase: the very contrary of which is the case. For there is no light\nin the vase itself: the light shines from beyond the skies, and I should\ntherefore have compared man to a crystal itself that catches the light\nso well that it seems to our eyes to be the source of light, which is\nnot true in principle or in fact, for in the darkness a crystal is as\ndark as any other stone. In such part do I explain the meaning that the\nwicked man, having no divine irradiation, is without instruction of God\nand knowledge of God's creations; he is as a fugitive from the divine\ncompany, and cannot do else than hold that everything is created from\nthe world to be again dissolved into the world. And being no better than\na follower of Heraclitus--But who is Heraclitus? Joseph asked.\n\nA clouded face was turned upon Joseph, and for some moments the sage\ncould not collect his thoughts sufficiently to answer him. Who is\nHeraclitus? he repeated, and then, with a general interest in his pupil,\nhe ran off a concise exposition of that philosopher's doctrine--a\nmistake on his part, as he was quick enough to admit to himself; for\nthough he reduced his statement to the lowest limits, it awakened in\nJoseph an interest so lively that he felt himself obliged to expose this\nphilosopher's fallacies; and in doing this he was drawn away from his\nsubject, which was unfortunate. The hour was near by when the Essenes\nwould, according to rule, retire to their cells for meditation,\nand--foreseeing that he could not rid himself of the burden which\nJoseph's question imposed upon him--he abandoned Heraclitus in a last\nrefutation, to warn Joseph that he must not resume his questions.\n\nBut if I do not ask at once, my chance is gone for ever; for your\ndiscourse is like the clouds, always taking new shapes, Joseph pleaded.\nIn dread lest all be forgotten, I repeat to myself what you have said,\nand so lose a great deal for a certain remembrance.\n\nJoseph's manifest delight in his statement of the doctrines of\nHeraclitus, and his subsequent refutation of the heathen philosopher\ncaused Mathias to forget temporarily certain ideas that he had been\nfostering for some days--that God, being the designer and maker of all\nthings, and their governor, is likewise the creator of time itself, for\nhe is the father of its father, and the father of time is the world,\nwhich made its own mother--the creation. So that time stands towards God\nin the relation of a grandson; for this world is a young son of God. On\nthese things the sage's thoughts had been running for some days past,\nand he would have liked to have expounded his theory to Joseph: that\nnothing is future to God: creations and the very boundaries of time are\nsubject.\n\nHe said much more, but Joseph did not hear. He was too busy memorising\nwhat he had already heard, and during long hours he strove to come to\nterms with what he remembered, but in vain. The more he thought, the\nless clear did it seem to him that in eternity there is neither past nor\nfuture, that in eternity everything is present. Mathias's very words;\nbut when he said them, there seemed to be something behind the words;\nwhile listening, it seemed to Joseph that sight had been given to him,\nbut his eyes proved too weak to bear the too great illumination, and he\nhad been obliged to cover them with his hands, shutting out a great deal\nso that he might see just a little ... as it were between his fingers.\nAs we think of God only under the form of light, it seemed to him that\nthe revelation entered into him by his eyes rather than by his ears. He\nwould return to the sage every day, but what if he were not able to\nremember, if it were all to end in words with nothing behind the words?\nThe sage said that in a little while the discourses would not seem so\nelusive and evanescent. At present they seemed to Joseph like the mist\non the edge of a stream, and he strove against the belief that a\nphilosopher is like a man who sets out to walk after the clouds.\n\nSuch a belief being detestable, he resolved to rid himself of it, and\nMathias would help him, he was sure, and in this hope he confided his\nlife to him, going back to the night when Samuel appeared to him, and\nrecounting his father's business and character, introducing the\ndifferent tutors that were chosen for him, and his own choice of\nAzariah, to whom he owed his knowledge of Greek. To all of which the\nphilosopher listened complacently enough, merely asking if Azariah\nshared the belief prevalent in Galilee that the world was drawing to a\nclose. On hearing that he did, he seemed to lose interest in Joseph's\nstory of Azariah's relations to his neighbours, nor did he seem unduly\nafflicted at hearing that only the most orthodox views were acceptable\nin Galilee. His indifference was disheartening, but being now deep in\nhis biography, Joseph related perforce the years he spent doing his\nfather's business in northern Syria, hoping as he told his story to\nawaken the sage's interest in his visit to Jerusalem. The Sadducees did\nnot believe that Jahveh had resolved to end the world and might be\nexpected to appear in his chariot surrounded by angels blowing trumpets,\nbidding the dead to rise. But the Pharisees did believe in the\nresurrection--unfortunately including that of the corruptible body,\nwhich seemed to present many difficulties. He was about to enter on an\nexamination of these difficulties, but the philosopher moved them aside\ncontemptuously, and Joseph understood that he could not demean himself\nto the point of discussing the fallacies of the Pharisees, who, Joseph\nsaid, hope to stem the just anger of God on the last day by minute\nobservances of the Sabbath. Mathias raised his eyes, and it was a\nrevulsion of feeling, Joseph continued, against hypocrisy and\nfornication, that put me astride my mule as soon as I heard of the\nEssenes, the most enlightened sect of the Jews in Palestine. That you\nshould be among them is testimony of their enlightenment.... Mathias\nraised his hand, and Joseph's face dropped into an expression of\nattention. Mathias was willing to accede that much, but certain\ncircumlocutions in his language led Joseph to suspect that Mathias was\nnot altogether satisfied with the Essenes. He seemed to think that they\nwere too prone to place mere piety above philosophy: a mistake; for our\nintellect being the highest gift we have received from God, it follows\nthat we shall please him best by using it assiduously. He spoke about\nthe prayers before sunrise and asked Joseph if they did not seem to him\nsomewhat trite and trivial and if he did not think that the moment would\nbe more profitably spent by instituting a comparison between the light\nof the intellect and that of the sun?\n\nMathias turned to Joseph, and waited for him to confess his\nperplexities. But it was hard to confess to Mathias that philosophy was\nuseless if the day of judgment were at hand! He dared not speak against\nphilosophy and it was a long time before Mathias guessed his trouble,\nbut as soon as it dawned on him that Joseph was in doubt as to the\nutility of philosophy, his face assumed so stern an expression that\nJoseph began to feel that Mathias looked upon him as a fool. It may have\nbeen that Joseph's consternation, so apparent on his face, restored\nMathias into a kindly humour. Be that as it may, Mathias pointed out,\nand with less contempt than Joseph expected, that the day of judgment\nand philosophy had nothing in common. We should never cease to seek\nafter wisdom, he said. Joseph concurred. It was not, however, pleasing\nto Joseph to hear prophecy spoken of as the outpourings of madmen,\nbut--having in mind the contemptuous glance that would fall upon him if\nhe dared to put prophecy above philosophy--he held his peace, venturing\nonly to remark that no prophets were found in Judea for some hundreds of\nyears. Except Manahem, he added hurriedly. But his remembrance of\nManahem did not appease the philosopher, who dropped his eyes on Joseph\nand fixed them on him. The moment was one of agony for Joseph. And as if\nhe remembered suddenly that Joseph was only just come into the district\nof the Jordan, Mathias told with some ironical laughter that the\nneighbourhood was full of prophets, as ignorant and as ugly as hyenas.\nThey live, he said, in the caves along the western coasts of the Salt\nLake, growling and snarling over the world, which they seem to think\nrotten and ready for them to devour. Or else they issue forth and entice\nthe ignorant multitude into the Jordan, so that they may the more easily\nplunge them under the flood. But of what use to speak of these crazed\nfolk, when there are so many subjects of which philosophy may gracefully\ntreat?\n\nProphets in caves about the Salt Lake! Joseph muttered; and a great\ndesire awakened in him to see them. But you're not going in search of\nthese wretched men? Mathias asked, and his eyes filled with contempt,\nand Joseph felt that Mathias had already decided that all intellectual\ncompanionship was henceforth impossible between them. He was tempted to\ntemporise. It was not to discuss the resurrection that he desired to see\nthese men, but for curiosity; and during the long walk he would meditate\non Mathias's doctrines.... Mathias did not answer him, and Joseph,\nseeing him cast away in philosophy and unable to advise him further,\nwent to the president to ask for permission to absent himself for two\ndays from the cenoby, a permission that was granted willingly when the\nobject of the absence was duly related.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. VIII.\n\n\nThere was one John preaching in the country about the Jordan: the\nBaptist, they call him, the president said. But go, Joseph, and see the\nprophets for thyself. I shall be rare glad to hear what thou hast to\nsay! And he pressed Joseph's hand, sending him off in good cheer. Banu,\nask for Banu! were the last words he called after him, and Joseph hoped\nthe ferryman would be able to point out the way to him. Oh yes, I know\nthe prophet; the ferryman answered: a disciple of John, that all the\npeople are following. But there be a bit of a walk before thee, and one\nthat'll last thee till dawn, for Banu has been that bothered by visits\nthese times, that he has gone up the desert out of the way, for he be\npreparing himself these whiles. For what? Joseph asked. The ferryman did\nnot know; he told that John was not baptizing that morning, but for why\nhe did not know. As like as not he be waiting for the river to lower, he\nsaid. At which Joseph had half a mind to leave Banu for John; but a\npassenger was calling the ferryman from the opposite bank and he was\nleft with incomplete information and wandered on in doubt whether to\nreturn in quest of the Baptist or make the disciple his shift.\n\nThe way pointed out to him lay through the desert, and to find Banu's\ncave without guidance would not be easy, and after having found and\ninterrogated him the way would seem longer to return than to come. But,\nhaving gone so far, he could not do else than attempt the hot weary\nsearch. And it will be one! he said, as he picked his way through the\nbushes and brambles that contrive to subsist somehow in the flat sandy\nwaste lying at the head of the lake. But as he proceeded into the desert\nthese signs of life vanished, and he came upon a region of craggy and\nintricate rocks rising sometimes into hills and sometimes breaking away\nand littering the plain with rubble. The desert is never completely\ndesert for long, and on turning westward as he was directed, Joseph\ncaught sight of the hill which he had been told to look out for--he\ncould not miss it, for the evening sun lit up a high scarp, and on\ncoming to the end of a third mile the desert began to look a little less\ndesert, brambles began again. Banu could not be far away. But Joseph did\nnot dare to go farther. He had been walking for many hours, and even if\nhe were to meet Banu he could not speak to him, so closely did his\ntongue cleave to the sides of his mouth. But these brambles betoken\nwater, he said; and on coming round a certain rock bulging uncouth from\nthe hillside, he discovered a trickle, and a few paces distant, Banu,\nugly as a hyena and more ridiculous than the animal, for--having no\nshirt to cover his nakedness--he had tressed a garland of leaves about\nhis waist! Yet not so ugly at second sight as at first, for he sees God,\nJoseph said to himself; and he waited for Banu to rise from his knees.\n\nEven hither do they pursue me, Banu's eyes seemed to say, while his\nfingers modestly rearranged his garland; and Joseph, who began to dread\nthe hermit, begged to have the spring pointed out to him that he might\ndrink. Banu pointed to it, and Joseph knelt and drank, and after\ndrinking he was in better humour to tell Banu that Mathias, the great\nphilosopher from Alexandria, scorned the prophecies that the end of the\nworld could not be delayed much longer. And, as John is not baptizing\nthese days, I thought I'd come and ask if we had better begin to prepare\nfor the resurrection and the judgment. On hearing Joseph's reasons for\nhis visit, the hermit stood with dilated eyes, as if about to speak. But\nhe did not speak; and Joseph asked him what would become of the world\nafter God destroyed it. Before answering, Banu stooped down, and having\nfilled his hand with sand and gravel he said: God will fill his hand\nwith earth, but not this time to make a man and woman, but out of each\nof his hands will come a full nation, and these he will put into full\npossession of the earth, for his chosen people will not repent....\n\nBut the ferryman told me that John gathered many together and was\nbaptizing in Jordan? Joseph inquired. To which Banu answered naught, but\nstood looking at Joseph, who could scarce bring himself to look at Banu,\nthough he felt himself to be in sore need of some prophetic confirmation\nof the date of the judgment. Is John the Messiah, come to preach that\nGod is near and that we must repent in time? he asked; to which the\nhermit replied that the Messiah would have many fore-runners, and one of\nthese would give his earthly life as a peace-offering, but enraged\nJahveh would not accept it as sufficient and would return with the\nMessiah and destroy the world. I am waiting here till God bids me arise\nand preach to men, and the call will be soon, Banu said, for God's wrath\nis even now at its height. But do thou go hence to John, who has been\ncalled to the Jordan, and get baptism from him. But John is not\nbaptizing these days, the river being in flood, Joseph cried after him.\nThat flood will pass away, Banu answered, before the great and\noverwhelming flood arises. Will the world be destroyed by water? At this\nquestion Banu turned towards the hillside, like one that deemed his last\nexhortation to be enough, and who desired an undisturbed possession of\nthe solitude. But at the entrance of the cave he stopped: the track is\neasy to lose after nightfall, he said, and panthers will be about in\nsearch of gazelles. Thou wouldst do well to remain with me: my cave is\nsecure against wild beasts. Look behind thee: how dark are the rocks and\nhills! Joseph cast his eyes in the direction of Jericho and thanked God\nfor having put a kind thought into the hermit's mind, for the landscape\nwas gloomy enough already, and an hour hence he would be stumbling over\na panther in the dark, and the sensation of teeth clutching at his\nthroat and of hind claws tearing out his belly banished from his mind\nall thoughts of the unpleasantness of passing a night in a narrow cave\nwith Banu, whom he helped to close the entrance with a big stone and to\npile up other stones about the big stone making themselves safe, so Banu\nsaid, from everything except perhaps a bear.\n\nThe thought of the bear that might scrape aside the stone kept Joseph\nawake listening to Banu snoring, and to the jackals that barked all\nnight long. They are quarrelling among themselves, Banu said, turning\nover, for the jackals succeeded in waking him, quarrelling over some\ngazelle they've caught. A moment after, he was asleep again, and Joseph,\ndespite his fear of the wild beasts, must have dozed for a little while,\nfor he started up, his hair on end. A bear! a bear! he cried, without\nawakening Banu, and he listened to a scratching and a sniffling round\nthe stones with which they had blocked the entrance to the cave. Or a\npanther, he said to himself. The animal moved away, and then Joseph lay\nawake hour after hour, dropping to sleep and awakening again and again.\n\nAbout an hour after sunrise, Banu awakened him and asked him to help him\nto roll the stones aside; which Joseph did, and as soon as they were in\nthe dusk he turned out of his pockets a few crusts and some cheese made\nout of ewe's milk, and offered to share the food with his host; but\nBanu, pointing to a store of locusts, put some of the insects into his\nmouth and told Joseph that his vow was not to eat any other food till\nGod called him forth to preach; which would be, he thought, a few days\nbefore the judgment: a view that Joseph did not try to combat, nor did\nhe eat his bread and cheese before him, lest the sight of it should turn\nthe prophet's stomach from the locusts. It was distressing to watch him\nchewing them; they were not easy to swallow, but he got them down at\nlast with the aid of some water obtained from the source, and during\nbreakfast his talk was all the while of the day of judgment and the\nanger of God, who would destroy Israel and build up another nation that\nwould obey him. It would be three or four days before the judgment that\nGod would call him out to preach, he repeated; and Joseph was waiting to\nhear how far distant were these days? A month, a year, belike some\nyears, for God's patience is great. He stopped speaking suddenly, and\nthrowing out his arms he cried out: he has come, he has come! He whom\nthe world is waiting for. Baptize him! Baptize him! He whom the world is\nwaiting for has come.\n\nBut for whom is the world waiting? Joseph asked; and Banu answered:\nhasten to the Jordan, and find him whom thou seekest.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. IX.\n\n\nI shall pray that the Lord call thee out of the desert to join thy voice\nwith those already preaching, Joseph cried; and the hermit answered him:\nlet us praise the Lord for having sent us the new prophet! But do thou\nhasten to John, he called after Joseph, who ran and walked alternately,\nstriving up every hillock for sight of the ferryman's boat which might\nwell be waiting on this side for him to step on board; Joseph being in a\nhurry, it would certainly be lying under the opposite bank, the ferryman\nasleep in it, and so soundly that no cries would awaken him.\n\nBut Joseph's fortune was kinder than he anticipated, for on arriving at\nthe Jordan he found himself at the very spot where the ferryman had tied\nhis boat and--napping--awaited a passenger. So rousing him with a great\nshout, Joseph leaped on board and told the old fellow to pull his\nhardest; but having been pulling across the Jordan for nigh fifty\nyears, the ferryman was little disposed to alter his stroke for the\npleasure of the young man, who, he remembered, had not paid him\nover-liberally yester-evening; and in the mid-stream he rested on his\noars, so that he might the better discern the great multitude gathered\non yon bank. For baptism, he said; or making ready to go home after\nbaptism, he added; and letting his boat drift, sat discoursing on the\ncold of the water, which he said was colder than he ever knew it before\nat this season of the year: remarks' that Joseph considered well enough\nin themselves, but out of his humour. So ye be craving for baptism, the\nferryman said, and looked as if he did not care a wild fig whether\nJoseph got it that morning or missed it. But there was no use arguing\nwith the ferryman, who after a long stare fell to his oars, but so\nleisurely that Joseph seized one of them and--putting his full strength\nupon it--turned the boat's head up-stream.\n\nThere be no landing up-stream anywhere, so loose my oars or I'll leave\nthem to thee, the ferryman growled, and we shall be twirling about\nstream till midday and after. But I can row, Joseph said. Then row! and\nthe ferryman put the other oar into his hand. But we shall be quicker\nacross if thou'lt leave them to me. And as this seemed to Joseph the\ntruth, he fell back into his seat, and did not get out of it till the\nboat touched the bank. But he jumped too soon and fell into the mud,\ncausing much laughter along the bank, and not a few ribald remarks, some\nsaying that he needed baptism more than those that had gotten it. But a\nhand was reached out to him, and that he should ask for the Baptist\nbefore thinking of his clothes showed the multitude that he must be\nanother prophet, which he denied, calling on heaven to witness that he\nwas not one: whereupon he was mistaken for a great sinner, and heard\nthat however great his repentance it would avail him nothing, for the\nBaptist was gone away with his disciple. Joseph, thinking that he had\nleft the Baptist's disciple in the desert, began to argue that this\ncould not be, and raved incontinently at the man, bringing others round\nhim, till he was hemmed into a circle of ridicule. Among the multitude\nmany were of the same faith as Joseph himself, and these drew him out of\nthe circle and explained to him that the Baptist baptized in the river\nfor several hours, till--unable to bear the cold any longer--he had gone\naway, his teeth chattering, with Jesus the Essene.\n\nJesus the Essene! Joseph repeated, but before he could inquire further,\nmen came running along the bank, saying they had sins to repent, and on\nhearing that the Baptist was gone and would not return that day, they\nbegan to tell each other stories of the great cloud that was seen in the\neast, bearing within it a chariot; and from the chariot angels were seen\ndescending all the morning with flaming swords in their hands. Get thee\nbaptized! they shouted, and clamoured, and pushed to and fro--a\nthronging gesticulating multitude of brown faces and hooked noses, of\nbony shoulders and striped shirts. Get thee baptized before sunset!\neverybody was crying. And Joseph watched the veils floating from their\nturbans as they fled southwards. On what errand? he asked; in search of\nthe Baptist or the new disciple Jesus? Not the new disciple, was the\nanswer he got back; for Jesus leaves baptism to John. But why doesn't\nJesus baptize? Joseph asked, since he is a disciple of the Baptist. If\nbaptism be good for him, it is good enough for another. And so the\nmultitude seemed to think, and were confounded till one amongst them\nsaid that Jesus might not be endowed with the gift of baptism; or belike\nhave accepted baptism from John for a purpose, it having been prophesied\nthat the Messiah would have a forerunner. But who, asked many voices\ntogether, has said that Jesus is the Messiah? some maintaining that\nJesus was the lesser prophet. But this contention was not agreeable to\nall, some having, for, reasons unknown to Joseph, ranged themselves\nalready alongside of Jesus, believing him to be greater than John, yet\nnot the final prophet promised to Israel. And these came to blows with\nthe others, who looked upon John as the Messiah, and Jesus as the one\nwhom John had called to his standard: a recruit--nothing. Skinny fists\nwere striving in the air and--thrusting himself between two\ndisputants--Joseph begged them to tell him if Jesus, John's disciple,\nwas from the cenoby? Yea, yea, he heard from all sides; the shepherd of\nthe brotherhood--that one who follows their flocks over the hills; but\nnot being sure of his mission, he has gone into the desert to wait for a\nsign. An Essene, but one that was seldom in the cenoby, more often to be\nmet on the hills with his flocks. A shepherd? Joseph asked. Yea, and it\nwas among the hills that John met him, and seeing a prophet in him spoke\nto him, and Jesus, seeing that another prophet was risen up in Israel,\nhad thrown his flute away and gone to the president to ask for leave to\npreach the baptism of repentance unto men, for the grand day is at hand.\nJoseph having heard this before, heeded only tidings of the new prophet,\nwhen a woman pressing forward shouted: a pleasant voice to hear on the\nmountain-side, said she; and another added: the hills will seem lonely\nwithout his gait. A great slinger, cried a third. But why did he come\nto John for baptism, knowing himself to be the greater prophet? A\nquestion that started them all wrangling again, and crying one against\nthe other that repentance was necessary, or else the Lord would desert\nthem or choose another race.\n\nThese are irksome gossips, a man said to Joseph; but come with me and\nI'll tell thee much about him. No better shepherd than he ever ranged\nthe hills. I wouldn't have thee forget, mate, another man said, that\nhe's gone without leaving us his great cure for scab. True for thee,\nmate, answered the first, for a great forgetfulness has been on him this\ntime past.... A great cure, certainly, which he might have left us. And\nthe twain fell to discussing their several cures for scab. Another\nshepherd came by and passed the remark that Jesus knew the hills like\none born among them. But neither could tell whence he came, nor did they\nknow if he brought the cure for scab with him, or learnt it at the\ncenoby. The brotherhood has secrets that it is forbidden to tell. I be\nwith thee on this matter, said another shepherd, that wherever he goes,\nhe'll be a prize to a master, for the schooling he has been through will\nstand to him.\n\nThe last of this chatter that came to Joseph's ears was that Jesus could\ndo as much with sheep as any man since Abraham, and--satisfied with this\nknowledge--he took his leave of the shepherds, certain that Jesus must\nhave been among the Essenes for many years before God called to him to\nleave his dogs and to follow John, whom he began to recognise as greater\nthan himself, but whom he was destined to supersede, as John's own\ndisciple, Banu, testified in the desert before Joseph's own eyes. He\nremembered how Banu saw John in a vision plunging Jesus into Jordan. Of\ntrickery and cozenage there was none: for the men along these banks bore\nwitness to the baptism that Joseph would have seen for himself if he had\nstarted a little earlier; nor could the Jesus who came to John for\nbaptism be other than the young shepherd whom Joseph had seen, at the\nbeginning of his novitiate, walking with the president in deep converse;\nthe president apparently trying to dissuade him from some project.\nJoseph could not remember having heard anyone speak so familiarly or so\nauthoritatively to the president, a man some twenty years older; and he\nwondered at the time how a mere shepherd from the hills could talk on an\nequality, as if they were friends, with the president. The shepherd, he\nnow heard, was an Essene, but he lived among the hills, and Joseph\nremembered the striped shirt, the sheepskin and the long stride. His\nmemory continued to unfold, and he recalled with singular distinctness\nand pleasure the fine broad brow curving upwards--a noble arch, he said\nto himself--the eyes distant as stars and the underlying sadness in his\nvoice oftentimes soft and low, but with a cry in it; and he remembered\nhow their eyes met, and it seemed to Joseph that he read in the\nshepherd's eyes a look of recognition and amity.\n\nAnd now, as he walked from the Jordan to the cenoby, he remembered how,\nall one night after that meeting, dreams of a mutual destiny plagued\nhim: how he slept and was awakened by visions that fled from his mind as\nhe strove to recall them. But was this young shepherd the one that Banu\nsaw John baptize in the Jordan? It cannot be else, he said to himself.\nBut whither was Jesus gone? Did the brethren know, and if they did know\nwould they tell him? It was against the rule to put questions: only the\npresident could tell him, and he dared not go to the president. Yet\nconsult somebody he must; and a few days afterwards he got leave again\nto visit Banu, whom he found lying in his cave, sick: not very sick;\nthough having eaten nothing for nearly two days he begged Joseph to\nfetch him a little water from the rock; which Joseph did. After having\ndrunk a little the hermit seemed to revive, and Joseph related how he\nmissed Jesus on the bank and had no tidings of him except that he was\ngone into the desert to meditate. But the desert is large, and I know\nnot which side of the lake he has chosen. To which Banu answered: John\nis baptizing in the Jordan; get thee baptized and repent! On which he\nreached out his hand to his store of locusts, and while munching a few\nhe added: the Baptist is greater than Jesus, and he is still baptizing.\nGet thee to Jordan! At this Joseph took offence and returned to the\ncenoby with the intention of resuming his teaching. But he was again so\npossessed of Jesus that he could not keep his mind on the lesson before\nhim: a pupil was often forced to put a question to him in a loud voice,\nand perhaps to repeat it, before Joseph's sick reverie was sufficiently\nbroken for him to formulate an answer. The pain of the effort to return\nto them was so apparent in his face that the pupils began to be sorry\nfor him and kept up a fire of questions, to save him from the melancholy\nabstractions to which he lately seemed to have become liable. The cause\nof his grief they could not guess, but he was not sure they did not\nsuspect the cause; and so the classes in which he heretofore took so\nmuch pleasure came to be dreaded by him. Every moment except those in\nwhich he sat immersed in dreams was a penance and a pain; and at last he\npleaded illness, and Mathias took his class, leaving Joseph to wander\nas far as he liked from the cenoby, which had become hateful to him.\n\nHe was often met in the public gardens in Jericho, watching the people\ngoing by, vaguely interested and vaguely wearied by the thoughts that\ntheir different shows called up in his mind; and he was always painfully\nconscious that nothing mattered: that the great void would never be\nfilled up again: and that time would not restore to him a single desire\nor hope. Nothing matters, he often said to himself, as he sat drawing\npatterns in the gravel with his stick. Yet he had no will to die, only\nto believe he was the victim of some powerful malign influence.\n\nOne day as he sat watching the wind in the palm-trees, it seemed to him\nthat this influence, this demon, was always moving behind his life,\ndisturbing and setting himself to destroy any project that Joseph might\nform. Another day it seemed to Joseph that the demon cast a net over\nhim, and that--entangled in the meshes--he was being drawn--Somebody\nspoke to him, and he awoke so affrighted that the gossip could hardly\nkeep himself from laughing outright. If the end of the world were at\nhand, let the end come to pass! he said; but he did not go to John for\nbaptism. He knew not why, only that he could not rouse himself! And it\nwas not till it came to be rumoured in Jericho that a prophet was gone\nto Egypt to learn Greek that he awoke sufficiently to ask why a Jewish\nprophet needed Greek. The answer he got was that the new doctrine\nrequired a knowledge of Greek; Greek being a world-wide language, and\nthe doctrine being also world-wide. As there was but one God for all\nthe world, it was reasonable to suppose that every man might hope for\nsalvation, be he Jew or Gentile. It seemed to Joseph that this doctrine\ncould only emanate from the young shepherd he had met in the cenoby, and\nhe joined a caravan, and for fifteen days dreamed of the meeting that\nawaited him at the end of the journey--and of the delightful instruction\nin Greek that he was going to impart to Jesus. The heights of Mount\nSinai turned his thoughts backward only for a moment, and he continued\nhis dream of Jesus, continuing without interruption along the\nshell-strewn shores of the Sea of Arabah, on and on into the peninsula,\ntill he stepped from the lurching camel into the great caravanserai in\nAlexandria.\n\nWithout exactly expecting to find Jesus waiting for him in the street,\nhe had dreamed of meeting him somewhere in the city. He was sure he\nwould recognise that lean face, lit with brilliant eyes, in any crowd,\nand the thought of getting news of Jesus in the synagogues in some sort\ndrowsed in his mind. As Jesus did not happen to be waiting outside the\ncaravanserai, Joseph sought him from synagogue to synagogue, without\ngetting tidings of him but of another, for the camel-drivers at Mount\nSinai had not informed him wrongly: a young Jew had passed through the\ncity on his way to Athens, but as he did not correspond to Joseph's\nremembrances of Jesus, Joseph did not deem it to be worth his while to\nfollow this Jew to Athens. He remained in Alexandria without forming any\nresolutions, seeking Jesus occasionally in the Jewish quarters; and when\nthey were all searched he returned to the synagogues once more and began\na fresh inquisition, but very soon he began to see that the faces about\nhim were overspread with incredulous looks and smiles, especially when\nhe related that his friend was the young prophet discovered by John\namong the hills of Judea, tending sheep.\n\nWhat tale is this that he tells us? the Jews asked apart; but finding\nJoseph well instructed and of agreeable presence and manner, they made\nmuch of him. If Galilee could produce such a man as Joseph, Galilee was\ngoing up in the world. We will receive thee and gladly, but speak no\nmore to us of thy shepherd prophet, and betake thyself to our schools of\nphilosophy, which thou'lt enjoy, for thy Greek is excellent. But who\ntaught thee Greek? And while Joseph was telling of Azariah, little\nsmiles played about his eyes and mouth, for the incredulity of the\nAlexandrian Jews had begotten incredulity in him, and he began to see\nhow much absurdity his adventure made show for. The Alexandrian Jews\nliked him better for submitting himself so cheerfully to their learning\nand their ideas, and he became a conspicuous and interesting person,\nwithout knowledge that he was becoming one. Nor was it till having\nmoulded himself, or been moulded, into a new shape that he began to\nthink that he might have done better if he had left the moulding to God.\nHis conscience told him this and reminded him how he vowed himself to\nJesus, whom Banu saw in a vision. All the same he remained, not\nunnaturally, a young man enticed by the charm of the Greek language, and\nthe science of the Alexandrian philosophers, who were every one\npossessed of Mathias's skill in dialectics. They all knew Mathias and\nwere imbued with much respect for him as a teacher, and were willing to\ninstruct Joseph in psychology, taking up the lesson where Mathias closed\nthe book. So, putting his conscience behind him, Joseph listened, his\nears wide open and his mind alert to understand that it was a child's\nstory--the report in Jerusalem that the end of the world was\napproaching, and that God would remould it afresh--as if God were human\nlike ourselves, animated with like business and desires! He heard for\nthe first time that to arrive at any clear notion of divinity we must\nbegin by stripping divinity of all human attributes, and when every one\nis sloughed, what remains? Divinity, Joseph answered; and his instructor\nbowed his head, saying: here is no matter for reflection.\n\nThe philosophers were surprised to learn that in Jerusalem many still\nretained the belief that God was no more than a man of colossal stature,\nangry, revengeful, and desirous of burnt offerings and of prayers which\nwere little better; that the corruptible body could be raised from the\ndead and given back to the soul for a dwelling. That Jerusalem had\nfallen so low in intellect was not known to them; and Joseph, feeling he\nwas making a noise in the world, admitted that despite the knowledge of\nthe Greek language he accepted the theory that the soul was created\nbefore the body and waited in a sort of dim hall, hanging like a bat,\nfor the creation of the body which it was predestined to descend into,\ntill the death of the body released it. He was, however, now willing to\nbelieve that the souls of all the wise men mentioned in the books of\nMoses were sent down to earth as to a colony; great souls could not\nabide like bats in the darkness, but are ever desirous of contemplation\nand learning. And on pursuing this thought in the Greek language, which\nlends itself to subtle shades of thought, he discovered that there are\nthree zones: the first zone is reason, the second passion and the third\nappetite. And this his first psychological discovery was approved by his\nteacher, and many months were passed over in agreeable exercises of the\nmind of like nature, interrupted only by letters from his father, asking\nhim when he proposed to return home.\n\nAfter reading one of these letters, his unhappiness lasted sometimes\nfor a whole day, and it was revived many times during the week; but\nphilosophy enabled him to resist the voice of conscience still a little\nwhile, and even a letter relating the death of his grandmother did not\ndecide his departure. It seemed at first to have decided him, and he\ntold all his friends that he was leaving with the next caravan. But of\nwhat use, he asked himself, for me to return to Galilee? Granny is in\nher grave: could I bring her back to life I would return! So he remained\nin Egypt for some time longer, and what enforced his return were the\nlong plains, in which oxen drew the plough from morning till evening;\nand he had begun to long for clouds and for the hills, and the desire to\nescape from the plain grew stronger every day till at last he could not\ndo else than yield to it. By the next caravan, he said to himself.\n\nIn Egypt he had met no prophet, only philosophers, and becoming once\nmore obsessed by miracles, he hastened to Banu, but of Jesus Banu could\nonly tell him that he was doing the work that our Father had given him\nto do. Which is more than thou art doing. Go and get baptism from John!\nGo back to Jericho and wait for a sign, leaving me in peace, for I need\nit, having been troubled by many, eager and anxious about things that do\nnot matter. I will indeed, Joseph replied, for nothing matters to me\nsince I cannot find him. And he returned to Jericho, saying to himself\nthat Jesus must be known to every shepherd; perhaps to that one, he\nsaid, running to head back his flock, which has been tempted by a patch\nof young corn; Joseph stood at gaze, for the shepherd wore the same\ngarb as Jesus had done: a turban fixed on the head with two tiring-rings\nof camel's hair, with veils floating from the shoulders to save the neck\nfrom the sun. Jesus, too, wore a striped shirt, and over it was buckled\na dressed sheepskin; and Joseph pondered on the shepherd's shoon, on his\nleathern water-bottle, on his long slender fingers twitching the thongs\nof the sling. He had been told that no better slinger had been known in\nthese hills than Jesus. But he had left the hills and had gone, whither\nnone could tell! He was gone, whither no man knew, not even Banu. He is\nabout his Father's work, was all Banu could say; and Joseph wandered on\nfrom shepherd to shepherd, questioning them all, and when none was in\nsight he cried again Jesus's name to the winds, and never passed a cave\nwithout looking into it, though he had lost hope of finding him. But he\ncontinued his search, for it whiled the time away, though it did nothing\nelse, and one day as he lay under a rock, watching a shepherd passing\nacross the opposite hillside, he tried to summon courage to call him;\nbut judging him to be one of those whom he had already asked for tidings\nof Jesus, he let him go, and fell to thinking of the look that would\ncome into the shepherd's face on hearing the same question put to him\nagain. A poor demented man! he would mutter to himself as he went away.\nNor was Joseph sure that his mind was not estranged from him. He could\nno longer fix it upon anything: it wandered as incontinently as the wind\namong the hills, and very often he seemed to have come back to himself\nafter a long absence, but without any memory. Yet he must have been\nthinking of something; and he was trying to recall his thoughts, when\nthe shepherd came back into view again and Joseph remarked to himself\nthat he was without a flock. He seemed to be seeking something, for\nfrom a sheer edge he peered down into the valley. A ewe that has fallen\nover, no doubt, Joseph thought; but what concern of mine is that\nshepherd who has lost a ewe, and whether he will find his ewe or will\nfail to find it? Of no concern whatever, he said to himself,\nand--forgetful of the shepherd--he began to watch the evening gathering\nin the sky. Very soon, he said, the hills will be folded in a dim blue\nveil, and sleep will perchance blot out the misery that has brooded in\nme all this livelong day, he muttered. May I never see another, but\nclose my eyes for ever on the broad ruthless light. Of what avail to\nwitness another day? All days are alike to me.\n\nIt seemed to Joseph that he was of a sort dead already, for he could\ndetach himself from himself, and consider himself as indifferently as he\nmight a blade of grass. My life, he said, is like these bare hills, and\nthe one thing left for me to desire is death.\n\nA footstep aroused him from his dream. The man whom he had seen on the\nhillside yonder had crossed the valley, and he began to describe the\nanimals he had lost, before Joseph recovered from his reverie. No, he\nsaid, I have seen no camels. Camels might have passed him by without his\nseeing them, but there was no obligation on him to confide his misery to\nthe shepherd, a rough, bearded man in a sheepskin, who thanked him and\nwas about to go, when Joseph called after him: if you want help to seek\nyour camels, I'll come with you. Even the company of this man were\nbetter than his loneliness; and together they crossed some hills. Why,\nthere be my camels, as I'm alive! the camel-driver cried. Joseph had\nbrought him luck, for in a valley close at hand the camels were found,\nstaring into emptiness. Strange abstractions! Joseph said to himself,\nand then to the camel-driver: since I have found your camels, who knows\nbut that you may tell me of one Jesus, an Essene from the cenoby on the\neastern bank of the Jordan? A shepherd of these hills? the man asked,\nand Joseph replied: yes, indeed. To which the camel-driver answered: if\nI hear of him, I'll send him a message that you are looking for him, and\nI'll send you word that he has been found. But you'll never find him,\nJoseph answered. You didn't think you would find my camels, the driver\nreplied; but so it fell out, and if I could only find a few more camels,\nor the money to buy them, I could lay down a great trade in figs between\nJericho and Jerusalem; he related simply, not knowing that the man he\nwas talking to could give him all the money he required; telling that\nfigs ripen earlier in Jericho, especially if the trees have the\nadvantage of high rocks behind them.\n\nIt pleased Joseph to listen to his patter: it seemed to him that his\nfather was talking to him, and he was plunged in such misery that he had\nto extricate himself somehow. So he signed the deed that evening, and\nwithin a month a caravan laden with figs went forth and wended its way\nsafely to Jerusalem. Another caravan followed a few weeks after, and\nstill larger profits were made, and these becoming known to certain\nthieves, the next caravan was waylaid and driven away to the coast, and\nthe figs shipped to some foreign part or sold to unscrupulous dealers,\nwho knew them to be stolen. The loss was so great that Gaddi said to\nJoseph: if we lose a second caravan we shall be worse off than we were\nwhen we began, and we shall lose a third and a fourth, unless the\nrobbers be driven out of their caves. Let us then go to the Roman\ngovernor, Pilate, and lay our case before him. Joseph had no fault to\nfind with Gaddi's words, and he said: it may be that I shall go to\nPilate myself, for I am known to him through my father, who trades\nlargely between Tiberias and Antioch with salt fish.\n\nIt so happened that Pilate had received instructions from Rome to give\nevery protection to trade, it being hoped thereby to win the Jews from\nreligious disputations, which always ended in riots. Pilate therefore\nnow found the occasion he needed. Joseph had brought it to him, for the\nridding of the road between Jerusalem and Jericho would evince his\nability as administrator; and with his hand in his beard, his fine eyes\nbent favourably upon Joseph, he promised that all the forces of the\nRoman Empire would be employed to smoke out these nests of robbers. From\nthe account given by Joseph of the caves, he did not deem it worth\nwhile to send soldiers groping through the darkness of rocks; he was of\nopinion that bundles of damp straw would serve the purpose admirably;\nand turning to the captain of the guard he appealed to him, and got for\nanswer that a few trusses of damp straw would send forth such a reek\nthat all within the cave would be choked, or reel out half blinded.\n\nJoseph reminded Pilate and the captain of the guard that the openings of\nthe caves were not always accessible, but abutted over a ledge away down\na precipitous cliff. It might be necessary to lower soldiers down in\nbaskets, or the caves might be closed with mortised stones. Joseph's\ncounsel was wise; the closing of the caves proved very efficacious in\nridding the hills of robbers, though in some cases the robbers managed\nto pick a way out, and then sought other caves, which were not difficult\nto find, the hills abounding in such places of hiding. A cave would\nsometimes have two outlets, and it was hard to get the shepherds to\nbetray the robbers, their fear of them was so great. But within six\nmonths the larger dens were betrayed, and while the robbers writhed the\nlast hours of their lives away on crosses, long trains of camels and\nasses pursued their way from Jericho to Jerusalem and back again,\nwithout fear of molestation, the remnant of robbers never daring to do\nmore than draw away a single camel or ass found astray from the\nencampment.\n\nThe result of all this labour was that figs were no longer scarce in\nJerusalem; and when a delay in bringing wheat from Moab was announced to\nPilate, he sent a messenger to Joseph, it having struck him that the\ntransport service so admirably organised by them both was capable of\ndevelopment. A hundred camels, Joseph answered, needs a great sum, but\nperhaps Gaddi, my partner, may have some savings or my father may give\nme the money.\n\nAnd with Pilate's eyes full upon him, Joseph sat thinking of the lake,\nrecalling every bight and promontory, and asking himself how it was that\nhe had not thought of Galilee for so long a time. He longed to set eyes\non Magdala, and he would have ridden away at once, but an escort would\nhave to be ordered, for a single horseman could not ride through Samaria\nwithout a certainty of being robbed before he got to the end of his\njourney. Pilate's voice roused Joseph from his reverie, and after\napologising to the Roman magistrate for his absentmindedness, he went\naway to consult hurriedly with Gaddi, and then to make preparations for\nthe journey. It was a journey of three days on horseback, he was told,\nbut of two days only on camel-back, for a camel can walk three miles an\nhour for eighteen hours. But what should I be doing on a camel's back\nfor eighteen hours? Joseph cried, and the driver showed Joseph how with\nhis legs strapped on either side of the beast he could lie back in the\npack and sleep away many hours. Your head, sir, would soon get\naccustomed to the rocking. But I should have to leave my horse behind,\nJoseph said. He was fain to see his father and the lake; he was already\nthere in spirit, and would like to transport his cumbersome body there\nin the least possible time; but he could not separate himself from\nXerxes, a beautiful horse that he had brought with him from Egypt--a\ndark grey--a sagacious animal that would neigh at the sound of his voice\nand follow him like a dog, and when they encamped for the night, wander\nin search of herbage and come back when he was called, or wait for him\nlike a wooden horse at an inn door.\n\nHorse and horseman seemed a match the morning they went away to Galilee\ntogether, Xerxes all bits and bridles, stirrups and trappings, and\nJoseph equipped for the journey not less elaborately than his horse. He\nwore a striped shirt and an embroidered vest with two veils falling from\nhis turban over his shoulders, and as he was not going to visit the\nEssenes, he did not forget to provide himself with weapons: a curved\nscimitar hung by his side and the jewelled hilt of a dagger showed above\nhis girdle. His escort not having arrived yet, he waited; taking\npleasure in the arch of Xerxes' neck when the horse turned his head\ntowards him, and in the dark courageous eyes and the beautifully turned\nhoof that pawed the earth so prettily. At last the five spearmen and\ntheir captain appeared, and Xerxes, who seemed to recognise the escort\nas a sign for departure, presented his left side for Joseph to mount\nhim. As soon as his master was in the saddle, he shook his accoutrements\nand sprang forward at the head of the cavalcade, Joseph crying back: he\nmust have the sound of hoofs behind him. He could refuse his horse\nnothing, and suffered him to canter some few hundred yards up the road,\nthough it was not customary to leave the escort behind, and when Joseph\nreturned, the foreman told him, as he expected he would, that it would\nbe well not to tire his horse by galloping him at the beginning of the\njourney, for a matter of thirty miles lay in front of them. Thirty miles\nthe first day, he said, and fifty the second day; for by this division\nhe would leave twenty-five miles for the third day; and Joseph learnt\nthat the captain had arranged the journey in this wise for the sake of\nthe inns, for though they would meet an inn every twenty miles, there\nwere but three good inns between Jerusalem and Tiberias. He had\narranged too with a view to the rest at midday. Our way lies, he said,\nthrough the large shallow valley, and that is why I started at six. It\nis about four hours hence, so we shall be through it well before noon.\nBut why must we pass through it before noon? Joseph asked. Because, the\ncaptain answered, the rocks on either side are heated after noon like\nthe walls of an oven, and man and beast choke in it. But once we get out\nof the valley, we shall have pleasant country. You know the hills, Sir;\nand Joseph remembered the rounded hills and Azariah's condemnation of\nthe felling of the forests, a condemnation that the captain agreed with;\nfor though it was true that the woods afforded cover for wolves, still\nit was not wise to fell the trees; for when the woods go, the captain\nsaid, the country will lose its fertility. He was a loquacious fellow,\nknowing the country well, wherefore pleasant to ride alongside of, and\nthe hours passed quickly, hearing him relate his life. And when after\ntwo days' riding Joseph wearied of his foreman's many various relations,\nhis eyes admired the slopes, now greener than they would be again till\nanother year passed. The fig-trees were sending out shoots, the vines\nwere in little leaf, and the fragrance of the vineyards and fig gardens\nwas sweet in the cool morning when the dusk melted away and\nrose-coloured clouds appeared above the hills; and as Joseph rode he\nliked to think that the spectacle of the cavalcade faring through the\nvine-clad hills would abide in his memory, and that in years to come he\nwould be able to recall it exactly as he now saw it--all the faces of\nthe spearmen and their odd horses; even his foreman's discourses would\nbecome a pleasure to remember when time would redeem them of triteness\nand commonplace; the very weariness he now experienced in listening to\nthem would, too, become a perennial source of secret amusement to him\nlater on. But for the moment he could not withstand his foreman a moment\nlonger, and made no answer when he came interrupting his meditations\nwith tiresome learning regarding the great acacia-tree into whose shade\nJoseph had withdrawn himself. He was content to enjoy the shade and the\nbeauty of the kindly tree that flourished among rocks where no one would\nexpect a tree to flourish, and did not need to be told that the roots of\na tree seek water instinctively, and that the roots of the acacia seek\nwater and find it, about three feet down. The acacia gave the captain an\nopportunity to testify of his knowledge, and Joseph remembered suddenly\nthat he would be returning to Jerusalem with him in three days, for not\nmore than three days would his escort remain in Galilee, resting their\nhorses, unless they were paid a large sum of money; and with that escort\nidle in the village the thought would never be out of his mind that in a\nfew days he would be listening to his foreman all the way back to\nJerusalem.\n\nImpossible! He couldn't go back to Jerusalem in three days, nor in three\nweeks. His father would be mortally grieved if he did; and Pilate\nhimself would be surprised to see him back so soon and think him lacking\naltogether in filial affection if, after an absence of more than two\nyears, he could stay only three days with his father. He must, however,\nsend a letter to Pilate and one that consisted with all the\ncircumstances. The barely stirring foliage of the acacia inspired a\ndesire of composition: a more favourable moment than the present, or a\nmore inspiring spot, he did not think he would be likely to find. He\ncalled for his tablets and fell to thinking, but hardly filled in the\nfirst dozen lines when his foreman--this time apologising for the\nintrusion--came to tell him that if he wished to reach Magdala that\nevening they must start at once. He could not but acquiesce, and--as if\ncontemptuous of the protection of his escort--he rode on in front,\nwishing to be left alone so that he might seek out the terms of his\nletter, and his mood of irritated perplexity did not pass away till he\ncame within sight of the great upland, rising, however, so gently that\nhe did not think Xerxes would mind ascending it at a gallop. As soon as\nhe reached the last crest, he would see the lake alone, having--thanks\nto the speed of Xerxes--escaped from his companions for at least five\nminutes. He looked forward to these moments eagerly yet not altogether\nabsolved from apprehension of a spiritual kind, for the lake always\nseemed to him a sort of sign, symbol or hieroglyphic, in which he read a\nwarning addressed specially, if not wholly, to himself. The meaning that\nthe lake held out to him always eluded him, and never more completely\nthan now, at the end of an almost windless spring evening.\n\nIt came into view a moment sooner than he thought for, and in an\naltogether different aspect--bluer than ever seen by him in memory or\nreality--and, he confessed to himself, more beautiful. Like a great harp\nit lay below him, and his eyes followed the coast-lines widening out in\nan indenture of the hills: on one side desert, on the other richly\ncultivated ascents, with villages and one great city, Tiberias--its\ndomes, cupolas, towers and the high cliffs abutting the lake between\nTiberias and Magdala bathed in a purple glow as the sun went down. My\nown village! he said, and it was a pleasure to him to imagine his father\nsipping sherbet on his balcony, in good humour, no doubt, the weather\nbeing so favourable to fish-taking. Now which are Peter's boats among\nthese? he asked himself, his eyes returning to the fishing fleet. And\nwhich are John's and James's boats? He could tell that all the nets were\ndown by the reefed sails crossed over, for the boats were before the\nwind. A long pull back it will be to Capernaum, he was thinking, a\nmatter of thirteen or fourteen miles, for the leading boat is not more\nthan a mile from the mouth of the Jordan. Then, raising his eyes from\nthe fishing-boats, he followed the coast-lines again, seeking the shapes\nof the wooded hills, rising in gently cadenced ascents.\n\nA more limpid evening never breathed upon a lake! he said; and when he\nraised his eyes a second time they rested on the ravines of Hermon far\naway in the north, still full of the winter's snow; and--being a\nGalilean--he knew they would keep their snow for another month at least.\nThe eagerness of the spring would then be well out of the air; and I\nshall be thinking, he continued, of returning to Jerusalem and\nconcerning myself once more with Pilate's business. But what a beautiful\nevening! still and pure as a crystal.\n\nA bird floated past, his black eyes always watchful. The bird turned\naway to join his mates, and Joseph bade his escort watch the flock: a\nbird here and a bird there swooping and missing and getting no doubt\nsometimes a fish that had ventured too near the surface--that one\nleaving his mates, flying high towards Magdala, to be there, he said, in\na few minutes, by my father's house; and in another hour thou shalt be\nin thy stable, thy muzzle in the corn, he whispered into his horse's\near; and calling upon his comrades to put their heels into their tired\nsteeds, he turned Xerxes into the great road leading to Tiberias.\n\nBut there were some Jews among the escort who shrank from entering a\npagan city. Their prejudices might be overcome with argument, but it\nwere simpler to turn their horses' heads to the west and then to the\nnorth as soon as the city was passed. The detour would be a long one,\nbut it were shorter than argument: yet argument he did not escape from,\nfor as they rode through the open country behind Tiberias, some declared\nthat Herod was not a pure Jew; and to make their points clearer they\noften reined up their horses, to the annoyance of Joseph, who could not\nbring the discussion to an end without seeming indifferent to the law\nand the traditions. But, happily, it had to end before long, for within\nthree miles of Magdala they were riding in single file down deep lanes\nalong whose low dykes the cactus crawled, hooking itself along. One lane\nled into another. A network of deep lanes wound round Magdala, which,\njudging by the number of new dwellings, seemed to have prospered since\nJoseph had last seen it. Humble dwellings no doubt, Joseph said to\nhimself, but bread is not lacking, nor fish. Then he thought of the\nwharves his father had built for the boats, and the workshops for the\nmaking of the barrels into which the fish was packed. Magdala owed its\nexistence to Dan's forethought, and he had earned his right, Joseph\nthought, to live in the tall house which he had built for his pleasure\nin a garden amid tall acacia-trees that every breeze that blew up from\nthe lake set in motion.\n\nIf ever a man, Joseph thought, earned his right to a peaceable old age\namid pleasant surroundings, that man was his father; and he thought of\nhim returning from his counting-house to his spacious verandah, thinking\nof the barrels of salt fish that he would send away the following week,\nif the fishers were letting down their nets with fortunate enterprise.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. X.\n\n\nA very good guessing of his father's wonts and thoughts was that of\nJoseph while riding from Tiberias, for as the horsemen came up the lane\nat a canter the old man was wending homeward from his counting-house,\nwishing Peter and Andrew, James and John and the rest good fortune with\ntheir nets, or else, he had begun to think, the order from Damascus\ncannot----- The completed sentence would probably have run: cannot be\nexecuted, but the sound of the hooves of Joseph's horse checked the\nwords on his lips and he had to squeeze himself against the ditch, to\nescape being trodden upon. Joseph sprang from the saddle. Father, I\nhaven't hurt you, I hope? I was dreaming. Why, Joseph, it is you! You\nhaven't hurt me, and I was dreaming too. But what a beautiful horse you\nare riding! Aren't you afraid he will run away? Up and down these lanes\nhe would give us a fine chase. No, Joseph replied, he'll follow me. And\nthe horse followed them, pushing his head against Joseph's shoulder from\ntime to time; but Joseph was too much engaged with his father to do more\nthan whistle to Xerxes when he lingered to browse.\n\nAs we rode past Tiberias, I had imagined you, Father, sitting in the\nverandah drinking sherbet. We will have some presently, Dan answered. I\nwas detained at my business. Tell me, Father, how are the monkeys and\nthe parrots? Much the same as you left them, Dan answered, as he laid\nhis hand on the latch of the large wooden gate. A servant came forward\nto conduct them, and Joseph threw his reins to him.\n\nA monkey came hopping across the sward and jumped on to Joseph's\nshoulder. Another came, and then a third. Dan would have been annoyed if\nthe monkeys had not recognised Joseph, for it seemed to him quite\nnatural that all things should love Joseph. You see, he continued, the\nparrots are screaming and dancing on their perches, waiting for you to\nscratch their polls. Joseph complied, and then Dan wearied of the\nmonkeys, which were absorbing Joseph's attention, and drove them away.\nYou haven't told me that you're glad to be back in Galilee in front of\nthat beautiful lake. Jerusalem has its temple but God made the lake\nhimself. But you don't seem as pleased to be back as I'd like. Father,\nit is of thee I'm thinking and not of temples or lakes, Joseph answered,\nand for a moment Dan could not speak, so deep was his happiness, and so\nintense. Overcome by it, they walked a little way and Joseph followed\nhis father up the tall stairs on to the verandahed balcony, and when\nthey had drunk some sherbet and Joseph had vowed he had not tasted any\nlike it, Dan interposed suddenly: but thou hast not told me, Joseph, how\nthou camest by thy beautiful horse. He came from Egypt, Joseph answered\ncasually, and was about to add that he was an Egyptian horse, but on\nsecond thoughts it seemed to him that it would be well not to speak the\nword \"Egypt\" again: to do so might put another question into his\nfather's mouth; he would not commit himself to a rank lie, and to tell\nthat he had gone to Egypt could not do else than lead him into an\nintricate story which would indispose his father to listen to Pilate's\nprojects, or at least estrange Dan's mind from a calm judgment of them;\nso he resolved to omit all mention of Banu, Jesus and Egypt and to begin\nhis narrative with an account of his meeting with the camel-driver\nGaddi. But the camel-driver seemed to be the last person that Dan was\ninterested in. But he's my partner! Joseph exclaimed, and it was he who\nsent me to Pilate. I'll tell thee about the Essenes afterwards. And\nfeeling that he had at last succeeded in fixing his father's attention\non that part of the story which he wished to tell him, Joseph said: an\nexcellent governor, one who is ready to listen to all schemes for the\nfurtherance of commercial enterprise in Judea: he has ridded the hills\nof the robbers; and his account of the summer in the desert with the\nRoman soldiers, smoking out nest after nest and putting on crosses those\nthat were taken alive interested the old man. I wish he would start on\nSamaria, Dan mentioned casually; and Joseph replied, and he will as soon\nas he is certain that he can rely on the help of men like thee. Pilate's\nfavour is worth winning, Father, and it can be won. I doubt thee not,\nbut wilt tell how it may be won, my boy? By falling in with his\nprojects, Joseph answered, and began his relation. And when he had\nfinished, Dan sat meditating, casting up the account: Pilate's good will\nis desirable, he said, but a large sum of money will have to be\nadvanced. But, Father, the carrying trade has been a great success.\nWell, let us go into figures, Joseph. And they balanced the profits\nagainst the losses. Without doubt thou hast done well this last half\nyear, Dan said, and if business don't fall away---- But, Father, Joseph\ninterrupted, think of the profit my account would have shown if we had\nnot lost two convoys. The loss has already been very nearly paid off.\nThere are no more robbers and the demand for figs is steady in\nJerusalem. Figs ripen much earlier---- Say no more, Joseph. My money is\nthy money, and if fifty camels be wanted, thou shalt have them. 'Tis the\nleast I can do for thee, for thou hast ever been a frugal son, Joseph,\nand art deserving of all I have. So Pilate has heard of my fish-salting\nand maybe that was why he met thee on such fair terms. That has much to\ndo with it, Joseph replied, and he watched the look of satisfaction that\ncame into his father's face. But tell me, Joseph, has all this long time\nbeen spent smoking out robbers? Tell me again of their caves. Well,\nFather, the caves often opened on to ledges, and we had to lower the\nsoldiers in baskets.\n\nAnd the tale how one great cavern was besieged amused the old man till\nhe was nigh to clapping his hands with delight and to reminding Joseph\nof the time when he used to ask his grandmother to tell him stories.\nWere she here she'd like to hear thee telling thy stories. Thou wast in\nher thoughts to the last and now we shall never see her any more,\nhowever great our trouble may be; and in the midst of a great silence\nthey fell to thinking how the same black curtain would drop between them\nand the world. She has gone away to Arimathea, Joseph, whence we came\nand whither I shall follow her. We go forward a little way but to go\nback again. But I can't talk of deaths and graves. Go on telling me\nabout Pilate and the robbers, for I've been busy all day in the\ncounting-house adding up figures, and to listen to a good tale is a rare\ndistraction. Yet I wouldn't talk of them either, Joseph, but of thyself\nand thy horse that all the country will be talking about the day after\nto-morrow, when thou'lt ride him into the town. And now say it, Joseph:\nye are a wee bit tired, isn't that so? Nay, Father, not a bit. We have\ncome but twenty miles from the last halt, and as for the telling of my\nstory, maybe the loose ends which I've forgotten for the moment will\nunravel themselves while we're talking of fish-salting--of the many\nextra barrels you've sent out. Now, Father, say how many? At it, Joseph,\nas beforetimes, rallying thy old father! Well, I've not done so badly,\nbut a drop in the year's trading is never a pleasant thought, though it\nbe but a barrel. And he began again his complaint against the government\nof Antipas, who had never encouraged trade as he should have done. Now,\nif we had a man here such as thy friend Pilate, I'd not be saying too\nmuch were I to say that my trade could be doubled. But Pilate has no\nauthority in Galilee. Joseph thought that Pilate's authority should be\nextended. But how can that be done? Dan inquired, and being embarrassed\nfor an answer, Joseph pressed Dan to confide in him, a thing which Dan\nshowed no wish to do; but at last his reluctance was overcome, and shyly\nhe admitted that his despondency had nothing to do with Antipas nor with\na casual drop in the order from Damascus, but with a prophet that was\ntroubling the neighbourhood. A very dangerous prophet, too, is this one;\nbut I am afraid, Joseph, we don't view prophets in exactly the same\nlight. Joseph was about to laugh, but seeing the smile coming into his\neyes, his father begged him to wait till he heard the whole story.\n\nHe called up all his attention into his face, and the story he heard was\nthat the new prophet, who came up from Jordan about a year ago, was\npreaching that the Lord was so outraged at the conduct of his chosen\npeople that he had determined to destroy the world, and might begin the\nwrecking of it any day of the week. But before the world ends there'll\nbe wars. Joseph said: but there has been none, nor have I heard rumours\nof any. We don't hear much what's going on up here in Galilee, Dan\nanswered, and he continued his story: the new prophet had persuaded many\nof the fishers to lay down their nets. Simon Peter, thou rememberest\nhim? Well, he's the prophet's right-hand man, and now casts a net but\nseldom. And thou hast not forgotten James and John, sons of Zebedee?\nThey come next in the prophet's favour, and there are plenty of others\nwalking about the village, neglecting their work and telling of the\njudgment and the great share of the world that'll come to them when the\nprophet returns from heaven in a chariot. Among them is Matthew, a\npublican, the only one that can read or write. You don't remember him?\nNow I come to think on it, he was appointed soon after thou wentest to\nJerusalem. Soon after I went to Jerusalem? Joseph asked; was the prophet\npreaching then? No. It all began soon after thy departure for Jerusalem\nabout a year ago; a more ignorant lot of fellows thou'st be puzzled to\nfind, if thou wert to travel the world over in search of them. The\nprophet himself comes from the most ignorant village in\nGalilee--Nazareth. But why look like that, Joseph? What ails thee? Go\non, Father, with thy telling of the prophet from Nazareth. He started in\nNazareth, Dan answered, but none paid any heed to him but made a mock of\nhim, for he'd have us believe that he is the Messiah that the Jews have\nbeen expecting for many a year. But it was predicted that the Messiah\nwill be born in Bethlehem; and everybody knows that Jesus was born in\nNazareth. There's some talk, too, that he comes from the line of David,\nbut everybody knows that Jesus is the son of Joseph the Carpenter. His\nmother and his brothers tried all they could do to dissuade him from\npreaching about the judgment, which he knows no more about than the\nnext one, but he wouldn't listen to them. A good quiet woman, his\nmother; I know her well and am sorry for her; but she has better sons in\nJames and Jude. Joseph her husband, I knew him in days gone by--a\nGod-fearing honest man, whom one could always entrust with a day's work.\nHe doted on his eldest son, though he never could teach him to handle a\nsaw with any skill, for his thoughts were always wandering, and when an\nEssene came up to Galilee in search of neophytes, Jesus took his fancy\nand they went away together. But what ails thee? As soon as Joseph could\nget control of his voice, he asked his father if the twain were gone\naway together to the cenoby on the eastern bank of Jordan, and Dan\nanswered that he thought he had heard of the great Essenes' encampment\nby the Dead Sea. A fellow fair-spoken enough, Dan continued, that has\nbewitched the poor folk about the lakeside. But, Joseph, thy cheek is\nlike ashes, and thou'rt all of a tremble: drink a little sherbet, my\nboy. No, Father, no. Tell me, is the Galilean as tall or as heavy as I\nam, or of slight build, with a forehead broad and high? And does he walk\nas if he were away and in communion with his Father in heaven? But what\nails thee, my son? What ails thee? He came from the cenoby on the\neastern shores of the Jordan? Joseph continued; and has been here nearly\ntwo years? He received baptism from John in the Jordan? Isn't that so,\nFather? I know naught of his baptism, Dan answered, but he'll fall into\ntrouble. I was with Banu, Joseph said, when the hermit saw him in a\nvision receiving baptism from John; but though I ran, I was too late,\nand ever since have sought Jesus, in Egypt and afterwards among the\nhills of Judea. I can't tell thee more at present, but would go out into\nthe garden or perhaps wander by myself for a little while under the\ncliffs by the lake. Thou'lt forgive me this sudden absence, Father?\n\nDan put down his glass of sherbet and looked after his son. He had been\nso happy for a little while, and now unhappiness was by again.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XI.\n\n\nThe dogs barked as he unlocked the gate, but a few words quieted them\n(they still remembered his voice) and he crept upstairs to his room,\nweary in body and sore of foot, for he had come a long way, having\naccompanied Jesus, whom he had met under the cliffs abutting the lake,\nto the little pathway cut in the shoulder of the hill that leads to\nCapernaum. He had not recognised him as he passed, which was not\nstrange, so unseemly were the ragged shirt and the cloak of camel's or\ngoat's hair he wore over it, patched along and across, one long tatter\nhanging on a loose thread. It caught in his feet, and perforce he\nhitched it up as he walked, and Joseph remembered that he looked upon\nthe passenger as a mendicant wonder-worker on his round from village to\nvillage. But Jesus had not gone very far when Joseph was stopped by a\nmemory of a face seen long ago: a pale bony olive face, lit with\nbrilliant eyes. It is he! he cried; and starting in pursuit and quickly\novertaking Jesus, he called his name. Jesus turned, and there was no\ndoubt when the men stood face to face that the shepherd Joseph had seen\nin the cenoby in converse with the president, and the wandering beggar\nby the lake shore, were one and the same person. Jesus asked him which\nway he was walking, and he answered that all directions were the same\nto him, for he was only come out for a breath of fresh air before\nbed-time. But thinking he had expressed himself vulgarly, he added other\nwords and waited for Jesus to speak of the beauty of God's handiwork.\nJesus merely mentioned in answer that he was going to Capernaum, where\nhe lodged with Simon Peter. But he had not forgotten the brotherhood by\nthe Dead Sea, and invited Joseph to accompany him and tell him of those\nwhom he had left behind. We are of the same brotherhood, he said; and\nthen, as if noticing Joseph's embarrassment, or you are a proselyte,\nmaybe, who at the end of the first year retired from the order? Many do\nso. Joseph did not know how to answer this question, for he had not\nobtained permission from the president to seek Jesus in Egypt, and it\nseemed to him that the most truthful account he could give of himself at\nthe cenoby was to say that he was not there long enough to consider\nhimself even a proselyte. He lived in the cenoby as a visitor, rather\nthan as one attached to the order; but how far he might consider himself\nan Essene did not matter to anybody. Besides he wished to hear Jesus\ntalk rather than to talk about himself, so he compared his residence\nwith the Essenes to a clue out of which a long thread had unravelled: a\nthread, he said, that led me into the desert in search of thee.\n\nJesus had known Banu, in the desert, and listened attentively while\nJoseph told him how Banu was interrupted while speaking of the\nresurrection by a vision of John baptizing Jesus, and had bidden him go\nto Jordan and get baptism from John. But it was not John's baptism I\nsought, but thee, and I arrived breathless, to hear that thou hadst gone\naway with him, John not being able to bear the cold of the water any\nlonger. Afterwards I sought thee hither and thither, till hearing of\nthee in Egypt I went there and sought thee from synagogue to synagogue.\n\nA man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home\nto find it, Jesus answered gently, and in a tenderer voice than his\nscrannel peacock throat would have led one to expect. And as if\nforeseeing an ardent disciple he began to speak to Joseph of God, his\nspeech moving on with a gentle motion like that of clouds wreathing and\nunwreathing, finding new shapes for every period, and always beautiful\nshapes. He often stopped speaking and his eyes became fixed, as if he\nsaw beyond the things we all see; and after an interval he would begin\nto speak again; and Joseph heard that he had met John among the hills\nand listened to him, and that if he accepted baptism from him it was\nbecause he wished to follow John: but John sought to establish the\nkingdom of God within the law, and so a dancing-girl asked for his head.\nIt seemed as if Jesus were on the point of some tremendous avowal, but\nif so it passed away like a cloud, and he put his hand on Joseph's\nshoulder affectionately and asked him to tell him about Egypt, a country\nwhich he said he had never heard of before. Whereupon Joseph raised his\neyes and saw in Jesus a travelling wonder-worker come down from a\nnorthern village--a peasant, without knowledge of the world and of the\ngreat Roman Empire. At every step Jesus' ignorance of the world\nsurprised Joseph more and more. He seemed to believe that all the\nnations were at war, and from further discourse Joseph learnt that Jesus\ncould not speak Greek, and he marvelled at his ignorance, for Jesus only\nknew such Hebrew as is picked up in the synagogues. He did not seek to\nconceal his ignorance of this world from Joseph, and almost made parade\nof it, as if he was aware that one must discard a great deal to gain a\nlittle, as if he would impress this truth upon Joseph, almost as if he\nwould reprove him for having spent so much time on learning Greek, for\ninstance, and Greek philosophy. He treated these things as negligible\nwhen Joseph spoke of them, and evinced more interest in Joseph himself,\nwho admitted he had returned from philosophy to the love of God.\n\nNow sitting on his bed, kept awake by his memories, Joseph relived in\nthought the hours he had spent with Jesus. He seemed to comprehend the\nsignificance of every word much better now than when he was with Jesus,\nand he deplored his obtuseness and revised all the answers given to\nJesus. He remembered with sorrow how he tried to explain to Jesus the\nteaching of the Alexandrian philosophers regarding the Scriptures,\npaining Jesus very much by his recital but he had continued to explain\nfor the sake of the answer that he knew would come at last. It did come.\nHe remembered Jesus saying that philosophies change in different men,\nbut the love of God is the same in all men. A great truth, Joseph said\nto himself, for every school is in opposition to another school. But how\ndid Jesus come to know this being without philosophy? He had been\ntempted to ask how he was able to get at the truth of things without the\nGreek language and without education, but refrained lest a question\nshould break the harmony of the evening. The past was not yet past and\nsitting on his bed in the moonlight Joseph could re-see the plain\ncovered with beautiful grasses and flowers, with low flowering bushes\nwaving over dusky headlands, for it was dark as they crossed the plain;\nand they had heard rather than seen the rushing stream, bubbling out of\nthe earth, making music in the still night. He knew the stream from\nearly childhood, but he had never really known it until he stood with\nJesus under the stars by the narrow pathway cut in the shoulder of the\nhill, whither the way leads to Capernaum, for it was there that Jesus\ntook his hands and said the words: \"Our Father which is in Heaven.\" At\nthese words their eyes were raised to the skies, and Jesus said: whoever\nadmires the stars and the flowers finds God in his heart and sees him in\nhis neighbour's face. And as Joseph sat, his hands on his knees, he\nrecalled the moment that Jesus turned from him abruptly and passed into\nthe shadow of the hillside that fell across the flowering mead. He heard\nhis footsteps and had listened, repressing the passionate desire to\nfollow him and to say: having found thee, I can leave thee never again.\nIt was fear of Jesus that prevented him from following Jesus, and he\nreturned slowly the way he came, his eyes fixed on the stars, for the\nday was now well behind the hills and the night all over the valley,\ncalm and still. The stars in their allotted places, he said: as they\nhave always been and always will be. He stood watching them. Behind the\nstars that twinkled were stars that blazed; behind the stars that\nblazed were smaller stars, and behind them a sort of luminous dust. And\nall this immensity is God's dwelling-place, he said. The stars are God's\neyes; we live under his eyes and he has given us a beautiful garden to\nlive in. Are we worthy of it? he asked; and Jew though he was he forgot\nGod for a moment in the sweetness of the breathing of earth, for there\nis no more lovely plain in the spring of the year than the Plain of\nGennesaret.\n\nEvery breath of air brought a new and exquisite scent to him, and\nthrough the myrtle bushes he could hear the streams singing their way\ndown to the lake; and when he came to the lake's edge he heard the\nwarble that came into his ear when he was a little child, which it\nretained always. He heard it in Egypt, under the Pyramids, and the\ncataracts of the Nile were not able to silence it in his ears. But\nsuddenly from among the myrtle bushes a song arose. It began with a\nlittle phrase of three notes, which the bird repeated, as if to impress\nthe listener and prepare him for the runs and trills and joyous little\ncadenzas that were to follow. A sudden shower of jewels it seemed like,\nand when the last drops had fallen the bird began another song, a\ncontinuation of the first, but more voluptuous and intense; and then, as\nif he felt that he had set the theme sufficiently, he started away into\nnew trills and shakes and runs, piling cadenza upon cadenza till the\ntheme seemed lost, but the bird held it in memory while all his musical\nextravagances were flowing, and when the inevitable moment came he\nrepeated the first three notes. Again Joseph heard the warbling water,\nand it seemed to him that he could hear the stars throbbing. It was one\nof those moments when the soul of man seems to break, to yearn for that\noriginal unity out of which some sad fate has cast it--a moment when the\nworld seems to be one thing and not several things: the stars and the\nstream, the odours afloat upon the stream, the bird's song and the words\nof Jesus: whosoever admires the stars and flowers finds God in his\nheart, seemed to become all blended into one extraordinary harmony; and\nunable to resist the emotion of the moment any longer, Joseph threw\nhimself upon the ground and prayed that the moment he was living in\nmight not be taken from him, but that it might endure for ever. But\nwhile he prayed, the moment was passing, and becoming suddenly aware\nthat it had gone, he rose from his knees and returned home mentally\nweary and sad at heart; but sitting on his bedside the remembrance that\nhe was to meet Jesus in the morning at Capernaum called up the ghost of\na departed ecstasy, and his head drowsing upon his pillow he fell\nasleep, hushed by remembrances.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XII.\n\n\nA few hours later he was speeding along the lake's edge in the bright\nmorning, happy as the bird singing in the skies, when the thought like a\ndagger-thrust crossed his mind that being the son of a rich man Jesus\ncould not receive him as a disciple, only the poor were welcome into the\nbrotherhood of the poor. His father had told him as much, and the beggar\nwhom he had met under the cliffs, smelling of rags and raw garlic,\nexpressed the riches of simplicity. Happy, happy evening, for ever gone\nby! Happy ignorance already turned into knowledge! For in Peter's house\nJesus would hear that the man whom he had met under the cliffs was the\nson of the fish-salter of Magdala, and perhaps they knew enough of his\nstory to add, who has been making money in Jerusalem himself and has no\ndoubt come to Galilee to engage his father in some new trade that will\nextort more money from the poor. He is not for thy company. A great\naversion seized him for Capernaum, and he walked, overcome with grief,\nto the lake's edge and stooped to pick up a smooth stone, thinking to\nsend it skimming over the water, as he used to when a boy; but there was\nneither the will nor the strength in him for the innocent sport, and he\nlay down, exhausted in mind and body, to lament this new triumph of the\ndemon that from the beginning of his life thwarted him and interrupted\nall his designs--this time intervening at the last moment as if with a\npurpose of great cruelty. This demon seemed to him to descend out of the\nblue air and sometimes to step out of the blue water, and Joseph was\nbetimes moved to rush into the lake, for there seemed to him no other\nway of escaping from him. Then he would turn back from the foam and the\nreeds, and pray to the demon to leave him for some little while in\npeace: let me be with Jesus for a little while, and then I'll do thy\nbidding. Tie the tongues of those that would tell him I'm the son of a\nrich man--Simon Peter, James and John, sons of Zebedee. James would say\na word in his favour, but Jesus would answer: why did he not tell these\nthings to me overnight? And if he loves me, why does he not rid himself\nof the wealth that separates him from me?\n\nWell, young Master, cried somebody behind him, now what be ye thinking\nover this fine morning? Of the fish the nets will bring to be safely\npacked away in your father's barrels? My father's barrels be accursed!\nJoseph exclaimed, springing to his feet. And why dost thou call me\nmaster? I'm not master, nor art thou servant. And then, his eyes opening\nfully to the external world, he recognised the nearly hunchback Philip\nof Capernaum--a high-necked, thick-set fellow, in whom a hooked nose and\nprominent eyes were the distinguishing features. A sail-maker, that\nspoke with a sharp voice, and Joseph remembered him as combining the\noddest innocence of mind regarding spiritual things with a certain\nshrewdness in the conduct of his business. Thy voice startled me out of\na dream, Joseph said, and I knew not what I said. Beg pardon,\nMaster--but the word \"Sir\" you like no better, and it would sound\nunseemly to call you \"Joseph\" and no more. As we are not born the same\nheight nor strength nor wits, such little differences as \"Sir\" and\n\"Master\" get into our speech. All those that love God are the same, and\nthere is neither class nor wealth, only love, Joseph answered\npassionately. That is the teaching of the new prophet Jesus, Philip\nreplied, his yapping voice assuming an inveigling tone or something like\none. I was in Magdala yester evening, and spent the night in my debtor's\nhouse, and as we were figuring out the principal and interest a\nneighbour came in, and among his several news was that you were seen\nwalking with Jesus by the lake in the direction of Capernaum. We were\nglad to hear that, for having only returned to us last night you did not\nknow that Jesus has become a great man in these parts, especially since\nhe has come to lodge in Simon Peter's house. That was a great step for\nhim. But I must be hastening away, for a meeting is at Simon Peter's\nhouse. And I have promised Jesus to be there too, Joseph answered. Then\nwe may step the way out together, Philip answered, looking up into\nJoseph's face, and--as if he read there encouragement to speak out the\nwhole of his mind--he continued:\n\nI was saying that it was a great step up for him when Simon Peter took\nhim to lodge in his house, for beforetimes he had, as the saying is, no\nplace to lay his head: an outcast from Cana, whither he went first to\nhis mother's house, and it is said he turned water into wine on one\noccasion at a marriage feast; but that cannot be true, for if it were,\nthere is no reason that I can see why he should stay his hand and not\nturn all water into wine. To which Joseph replied that it would be a\ngreat misfortune, for the greater part of men would be as drunk as Noah\nwas when he planted a vineyard, and we know how Lot's daughters turned\ntheir father's drunkenness to account. Moreover, Philip, if Jesus had\nturned all the water into wine there would be no miracle, for a miracle\nis a special act performed by someone whom God has chosen as an\ninstrument. It is as likely as not, Master, that you be right in what\nyou say, for there's no saying what is true and what is false in this\nworld, for what one man says another man denies, and it is not even\ncertain that all men see and hear alike. But, Philip, thou must remember\nthat though men neither hear nor see alike, yet the love of God is the\nsame in every man. But is it? Philip asked. For can it be denied that\nsome men love God in the hope that God may do something for them, while\nothers love God lest he may punish them. But methinks that such love as\nthat is more fear than love; and then there are others that can love\nGod--well, just because it seems to them that God is by them, just as\nI'm by you at the present moment. Jesus is such an one. But there be not\nmany like him, and that was why his teaching found no favour either in\nCana or in Nazareth. In them parts they knew that he was the carpenter's\nson, and his mother and his brothers and sisters were a hindrance to\nhim, for thinking him a bit queer, they came ofttimes to the synagogues\nto ask him to come home with them, for they are shrewd enough to see\nthat such talk as his will bring him no good in the end, for priests are\nstrong everywhere and have the law of the land on their side, for\ngovernors would make but poor shift to govern without them. But why\nthen, Philip, shouldst thou who art a cautious man, be going to Peter's\nhouse to meet him? Well, that's the question I've been asking myself all\nthe morning till I came upon you. Master, sitting by the lake, and not\nunlikely you were asking yourself the same question, sitting over yonder\nby the lake all by yourself. He casts a spell upon me, I'm thinking, and\nhas, it would seem to me, cast one upon you, for you went a long way\nwith him last night, by all accounts. I'd have it from thee, Philip,\nhow long he has been in these parts? Well, I should say it must be two\nyears or thereabouts that he came up from Jericho, staying but a little\nwhile in Jerusalem and going on to his mother at Cana, and afterwards\ntrying his luck, as I have said, in Nazareth. But his mother hasn't seen\nhim for many a year? He has been away since childhood, living with a\ncertain sect of Jews called the Essenes, and it was John---- Yes, I know\nJohn was baptizing in Jordan, Joseph interrupted, and he baptized Jesus.\nAnd after that he went into the desert, said Philip hurriedly, for he\ndid not like being interrupted in his story. He came up to Nazareth, I\nwas saying, about two years ago, but was thrown out of that city and\ncame here; he was more fortunate here, picking up bits of food from the\npeople now and then, who, thinking him harmless, let him sleep in an odd\nhole or corner; but he must have often been like dying of hunger by the\nwayside, for he was always travelling, going his rounds from village to\nvillage. But luck was on his side, and when he was near dying a\ntraveller would come by and raise him and give him a little wine. He is\none of those that can do with little, and after the first few months he\nhad the luck to cast out one or two devils, and finding he could cast\nout devils, he turned to the healing of the sick; and many is the\nwithered limb that he put right, and many a lame man he has set walking\nwith as good a stride as we are taking now, and many a blind man's eyes\nhe has opened, and the scrofulous he cured by looking at them--so it is\nsaid. And so his fame grew from day to day; the people love him, for he\nasks no money from them, which is a sure way into men's affections; but\nthose whose children he has cured cannot see him go away hungry, and\nthey put a loaf into his shirt, for he takes anything that he can get\nexcept money, which he will not look upon. There has been no holier man\nin these parts, Sir, these many years. The oldest in the country cannot\nremember one like him--my father is nearer ninety than eighty, and he\nsays that Jesus is a greater man than he ever heard his father tell of,\nand he was well into the eighties before he died. Now, Sir, as we are\nnear to Peter's house, you'll not mind my telling you that there is no\n\"Sir\" or \"Master\" at Peter's house. But, Philip, has it not already been\nsaid that thou mayst drop such titles as \"Sir\" and \"Master\" in\naddressing me? And wert thou not at one with me that we should be more\ncourteous and friendly one between the other without them? Well, yes,\nMaster, I do recollect some such talk between us, but now that we be\ncoming into Capernaum it would be well that I should call you \"Joseph,\"\nbut \"Joseph\" would be difficult to me at first, and we are all brothers\namongst us, only Jesus is Master over all of us, and God over him. But\nit now strikes my mind that I have not told you how Jesus and Peter\nbecame acquainted.\n\nOne day as Jesus was passing on his rounds a man ran out of his house\nand besought him to help him to stop some boys who were playing drums\nand fifes and psalteries, saying to him: I know not who thou art, but my\nwife's mother is dying of fever, and the boys jeer at me and show no\nmercy. Let us take stones and cast them at them. But Jesus answered: no\nstone is required; and turning to the boys he said: boys, all this woman\nasks of you is to be allowed to die in quiet, and you may ask the same\nthing some day, and that day may not be long delayed. Whereupon the boys\nwere ashamed, and Jesus followed Peter into his house and took his\nwife's mother's hand and lifted her up a little and placed her head upon\nthe pillow and bade her sleep, which she did, and seeing that he had\nsuch power Peter asked him to remain in the house till his mother-in-law\nopened her eyes, which he did, and he has been there ever since. Now\nhere we are at the pathway through which Jesus comes and goes every day\non his mission of healing and preaching the love of God. Your father,\nSir, is much opposed to Jesus, who he says has persuaded Peter away from\nhis fishing and James and John and many others, but no doubt your father\ntold you these things last night.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XIII.\n\n\nYonder is Capernaum--or it would have been more in our speech had I\nsaid, why, brother, yonder is Capernaum. But habit's like a fly,\nbrother, it won't leave us alone, it comes back however often and\nangrily we may drive it away.\n\nJoseph made no reply, hoping by silence to quiet Philip's tongue which\nreturned to the attack, he was fain to admit, not altogether unlike a\nfly. He tried not to hear him, for the sight of the town at the head of\nthe lake awakened recollections of himself and his nurse walking\nvaliantly, their strength holding out till they reached Capernaum, but\nafter eating at the inn they were too weary to return to Magdala on foot\nand Peter had had to take them back in his boat. Peter's boat was his\nadventure in those days, and strangely distinct the day rose up in his\nmind that he and Peter had gone forth firm in the resolution that they\nwould ascend the Jordan as far as the waters of Merom. They succeeded in\ndragging the boat over the shallows, but there was much wind on the\ndistant lake. Peter thought it would not be well to venture out upon it,\nand Andrew thought so too. He was now going to see those two brothers\nagain after a long absence and was not certain whether he was glad or\nsorry. It seemed to him that the lake, its towns and villages, were too\ninseparably part of himself for him to wish to see them with the\nphysical eyes, and that it would be wiser to keep this part of Galilee,\nthe upper reaches of the lake at least, for his meditations; yet he did\nnot think he would like to return to Magdala without seeing Capernaum.\nPerhaps because Jesus was there. That Jesus should have pitched upon\nCapernaum as a centre revived his interest in it, and there was a\ncertain pathetic interest attached to the memory of a question he once\nput to his father. He asked him if Capernaum was the greatest city in\nthe world, and for years after he was teased till Capernaum became\nhateful to him; but Capernaum within the last few minutes regained its\nplace in his affections. And as the town became hallowed in recollection\nhe cried out to Philip that he could not go farther with him. Not go any\nfarther with me, Philip answered: now why is that, brother, for Peter is\nwaiting to see you and will take on mightily when I tell him that you\ncame to the head of the lake with me and turned back. But it is Peter\nwhom I fear to meet, Joseph muttered, and then at the sight of the long\nlean street slanting down the hillside towards the lake, breaking up\ninto irregular hamlets, some situated at the water's edge close to the\nwharf where Peter's boats lay gently rocking, he repeated: it is Peter\nthat I fear. But unwilling to take Philip into his confidence he turned\nas if to go back to Magdala without further words, but Philip restrained\nhim, and at last Joseph confessed his grief--that being the son of a\nrich man he was not eligible to the society of the poor. You will ask\nme, he said, to give up my money to the poor, a thing I would willingly\ndo for the sake of Jesus, whom I believe to be God's prophet; but how\ncan I give that which does not belong to me--my father's money? That was\nmy grief when you found me sitting on the stone by the lake's edge.\n\nWhereupon Philip stood looking at Joseph as one suspended, for the first\ntime understanding rightly that the rich have their troubles as well as\nthe poor. At last words coming to him he said: money has been our\ntrouble since Jesus drew us together, for we would do without money and\nyet we know not how this is to be done. Like you, Sir, I'm asking if I'm\nto sell my sails, those already out and those in the unrolled material,\nand if I do sell and give the money to the poor how am I to live but by\nbegging of those that have not given their all? But why should I worry\nyou with our troubles? But your troubles are mine, Joseph answered; and\nPhilip went away to fetch Peter, who, he said, would be able to tell him\nif Jesus could accept a rich man as a disciple. If a man that has a\nlittle be permitted to remain, who is to say how much means\ninterdiction? Joseph asked himself as he kept watch for Peter to appear\nat the corner of the street. And does he know the Master's mind enough\nto answer the question of my admission or---- The sentence did not\nfinish in his mind, for Peter was coming up the street at that moment, a\ngreat broad face coming into its features and expression. The same\nhigh-shouldered fisher as of yore, Joseph said to himself, and he sought\nto read in Peter's face the story of Peter's transference from one\nmaster to another. It wasn't the approach of the Great Day, he said, for\nPeter never could see beyond his sails and the fins of a fish; and if\nJesus were able to lift his thoughts beyond them he had accomplished a\nno less miracle than turning water into wine.\n\nWell, young Master, he said, we're glad to have you back among us\nagain. There be no place like home for us Galileans. Isn't that so? And\nno fishing like that on these coasts? But, Peter, Joseph interrupted, my\nfather tells me that thou hast laid aside thy nets--but that isn't what\nI'm here to talk to thee about, he interjected suddenly, but about Jesus\nhimself, whom I've been seeking for nearly two years, very nearly since\nI parted from you all, well nigh two years ago, isn't it? I've sought\nhim in the hills of Judea, in Moab, in the Arabian desert and all the\nway to Egypt and back again. It's about two years since you went away on\nyour travels, Master Joseph, and a great fine story there'll be for us\nto listen to when our nets are down, Peter said. I'd ask you to begin it\nnow, Master Joseph, weren't it that the Master is waiting for us over\nyonder in my house. And from what Philip tells me you would have my\nadvice about joining our community, Master Joseph. You've seen no doubt\na good deal of the Temple at Jerusalem and know everything about the\ngoings on there, and are with us in this--that the Lord don't want no\nmore fat rams and goats and bullocks, and incense is hateful in his\nnostrils. So I've heard. They be Isaiah's words, aren't they, young\nMaster? But there's no master here, only Jesus: he is Master, and if I\ncall you \"Master\" it is from habit of beforetimes. But no offence\nintended. You always will be master for me, and I'll be servant always\nin a sense, which won't prevent us from being brothers. The Master\nyonder will understand and will explain it all to you better than I....\nAnd Peter nodded his great head covered with frizzly hair. But, Peter, I\nam a rich man, and my father is too, and none but the poor is admitted\ninto the Community of Jesus. That's what affrights him, Peter--his\nmoney, Philip interjected, and I have been trying to make him understand\nthat Jesus won't ask him for his father's money, he not having it to\ngive away. I'm not so sure of that, Peter said. The Master told us a\nstory yesterday of a steward who took his master's money and gave it to\nthe poor, he being frightened lest the poor, whom he hadn't been\nover-good to in his lifetime, might not let him into heaven when he\ndied. And the Master seemed to think that he did well, for he said: it\nis well to bank with the poor. Them were his very words. So it seems to\nthee, Peter, that I should take my father's money? Joseph asked. Take\nyour father's money! Peter answered. We wouldn't wrong your father out\nof the price of two perch, and never have done, neither myself nor John\nand James. Now I won't say as much for---- We love your father, and\nnever do we forget that when our nets were washed away it was he that\ngave us new ones. I am sure thou wouldst not wrong my father, Joseph\nanswered, and he refrained from asking Peter to explain the relevancy of\nthe story he had just told lest he should entangle him. It is better, he\nsaid to himself, to keep to facts, and he told Peter that even his own\nmoney was not altogether his own money, for he had a partner in Jericho\nand it would be hard to take his money out of the business and give it\nall to the poor. Giving it to the poor in Galilee, he said, would\ndeprive my camel-drivers of their living. Which, Peter observed, would\nbe a cruel thing to do, for a man must be allowed to get his living,\nwhether he be from Jericho or Galilee, fisher or camel-driver or\nsail-maker. Which reminds me, Philip, that thou be'st a long time over\nthe sail I was to have had at the end of last month. And the twain began\nto wrangle so that Joseph thought they would never end, so prolix was\nPhilip in his explanations. He had had to leave the sail unsewn, was all\nhe had to say, but he embroidered on this simple fact so largely that\nJoseph lost patience and began to tell them he had come to Galilee,\nPilate wishing him to add the portage of wheat from Moab to the trade\nalready started in figs and dates. So Pilate is in the business, Peter\nejaculated, for Peter did not think that a Jew should have any dealings\nwith Gentiles, and this opinion, abruptly expressed, threw the discourse\nagain into disarray. But Pilate is in Jerusalem, Joseph began. And has\nhe brought the Roman eagles with him? Peter interrupted. And seeing that\nthese eagles would lead them far from the point which he was anxious to\nhave settled--whether the trade he was doing between Jerusalem and\nJericho prevented him from being a disciple--Joseph began by assuring\nPeter that the eagles had been sent back to C\u00e6sarea. C\u00e6sarea, Peter\nmuttered, our Master has been there, and says it is as full as it can\nhold of graven images. Well, Peter, what I have come to say is, that\nwere I to disappoint Pilate he might allow the robbers to infest the\nhills again, and all my money would be lost, and my partner's money, and\nthe camel-drivers would be killed; and if my convoys did not arrive in\nJerusalem there might be bread riots. How would you like that, Peter?\n\nNow what do ye say to that, Peter? and Philip looked up into Peter's\ngreat broad face. Only this, Peter answered, that money will shipwreck\nour Community sooner or later--we're never free from it. Like a fly,\nPhilip suggested, the more we chase it away the more it returns. The fly\ncannot resist a sweating forehead, Philip, Peter said. Thine own is more\nsweaty than mine, Philip retorted, and a big blue fly is drinking his\nbelly full though thou feelest him not, being as callous as a camel. The\nMaster's teaching is, Peter continued, having driven off the fly, that\nno man should own anything, that everyone should have the same rights,\nwhich seems true enough till we begin to put it into practice, for if I\nwere to let whosoever wished take my boats and nets to go out fishing,\nmy boats and nets would be all at the bottom of the lake before the sun\nwent down as like as not, for all men don't understand fishing. As we\nmust have fish to live I haven't parted with my boats; but every time we\ntake that turning down yonder to the lake's edge and I see my boats\nrocking I offer up a little prayer that the Master may be looking the\nother way or thinking of something else. James and John, sons of\nZebedee, are of the same mind as myself--that we shouldn't trouble the\nMaster too closely with the working out of his teaching. The teaching is\nthe thing. Why, they be coming towards us, as sure as my name's Simon\nPeter, sent perhaps by the Master to fetch us, so long have we been away\ntalking.\n\nJoseph turned to greet the two young men, whom he had known always; as\nfar back as he could remember he had talked to them over the oars, and\nseen them let down the nets and draw up the nets, and they had hoisted\nthe sail for his pleasure, abandoning the fishing for the day, knowing\nwell that Joseph's father would pay them for the time they lost in\npleasing his son. And now they were young men like himself, only they\nknew no Greek; rough young men, of simple minds and simple life, who\nwere drawn to Jesus--James a lean man, whose small sullen eyes, dilatory\nspeech and vacant little laugh used to annoy Joseph. James always asked\nhim to repeat the words though he had heard perfectly. Joseph liked John\nbetter, for his mind was sturdy and his voice grew sullen at any word of\nreproof and his eyes flamed, and Joseph wondered what might be the\nauthority that Jesus held over him, a rough turbulent fellow, whom\nJoseph had always feared a little; even now in their greeting there was\na certain dread in Joseph, which soon vanished, for John's words were\noutspoken and hearty. We're glad to have you back again amongst us,\nMaster, I've been saying since I left Capernaum this morning. But\n\"Master\" is a word, John, that I've heard isn't used among you. Truly it\nis not used among the brotherhood, John answered. And I came to ask\nadmission, Joseph said. Well, that be good news, Master--brother I\nshould say, for our Master will be glad to meet thee. But that, Philip\nbegan, is just the matter we were speaking of among ourselves before we\nsaw thee coming towards us. For there be a difficulty. He be as earnest\nas any of us, but our rule is what thou knowest it to be. Despite John's\nknowledge of the rule Philip began the story, and again he was so prolix\nin it that Joseph, wishing John to decide on the strict matter of it,\nand not to be lost in details, some of which were true and some of which\nwere false and all confused in Philip's telling, interrupted the\nnarrator, saying that he would give all the money that was strictly his,\nbut his father's he couldn't give nor his partner's. We've many camels,\nhe said, in common, and how are these to be divided? Nor is it right, it\nseems to me, that my partner should be left with the burden of all the\ntrade we have created together; yet it is hard that I who have sought\nJesus in the deserts of Judea as far as Egypt, and found him in Galilee,\nat home, should be forced to range myself apart from him, with whom my\nheart is. Would that the Master were here to hear him speak, Philip\ninterjected. He was with the Master last night, and the Master was well\npleased with him. It all depends on what mood the Master be in, John\nanswered, and they all fell to asking each other what the Master's mood\nwas that morning. But it would seem that all read him differently, and\nit was with joy at the prospect of a new opinion that they viewed Judas\ncoming towards them.\n\nAnd taking Judas into the discussion Peter said: now I've two boats, and\nJohn and James have four, so we aren't without money though our riches\nare small compared with the young Master's. Are we to sell our boats and\ngive the money to the poor, and if we do who then will look after the\nMaster's wants? They are small it is true, a bit of fish and bread every\nday, and a roof over his head; but who will give him a roof if mine be\ntaken from me? Is not this so? All seemed in agreement, and Peter\ncontinued: I am thinking, John, that our new brother might help us to\nbuy the Master a new cloak, for his is falling to pieces and my wife's\nmother is weary with patching it. He cured her of the fever, but she\nthinks that a great cost is put upon me and would ask the Master\nsomething for his keep. Whereupon John spoke out that the story of his\nmother-in-law was for ever the same; and seeing that he was offending\nPeter with the words he addressed against his wife's mother, though\nindeed Peter liked her not too much himself, Joseph put his hand in his\npocket and said: here are some shekels, go and buy Jesus a cloak, but\nsay not to him whence the money came.\n\nSay not to him! Judas interjected. No need to tell him that can read the\nthoughts in the mind. It would be better for the young Master to give\nhim one of his old cloaks. Jesus would question the new cloak and say it\nsavours of money. He sees into the heart. We have tried to keep things\nfrom him before, Judas continued turning to Joseph.... It is our duty to\nsave him as much as we can. Peter has done much and I've shared the\nexpense with Peter, though I am a poor man; we pick the stones from his\npath, for he walks with his eyes fixed upon the Kingdom of God always.\nYes, he sees into our hearts, Philip interrupted, and reads through all\nwe are thinking even before the thoughts come into our minds. It is as\nPhilip says, Judas muttered: our hearts are open to him always. But\nJames, who had not spoken till now, put forward the opinion, and no one\nseemed inclined to gainsay it, that if Jesus knew men's thoughts before\nthey came into men's minds he must be warned of them by the angels. He\ngoes into the solitude of the mountains to converse with the angels,\nJames said--for what else? Moses went into the clefts of Mount Sinai,\nJoseph added, and he asked Peter to tell him if Jesus believed that the\nsoul existed apart from the body, at which question Peter was fairly\nembarrassed, for the soul must be somewhere, he said, and if there be no\nbody to contain it---- You must ask the Master about these things, we\nhave not considered them. All the same we are glad that you are with us\nand ready to follow him into danger, for if the Sadducees and Pharisees\nare against him we are with him. Is that not so, sons of Zebedee?\n\nAt the challenge the two lads came forward again and all began to talk\nof the Kingdom of Heaven, and the enthusiasm of the disciples catching\nupon Joseph he, too, was soon talking of the Kingdom that was to come,\nand whether they should all go down to Jerusalem together to meet the\nKingdom and share it, or wait for it to appear in Galilee. Share and\nshare alike, Joseph said. Ay, ay, sure we shall, and enjoy it, Peter\nrolled out at his elbow. But we must set our hearts in patience, for\nthere be a rare lot to be converted yet. Every man must have his chance,\nand seeing Jesus coming towards him Peter waited till Jesus was by him.\nHaven't I thy promise, Master, he asked, laying his hand on Jesus'\nshoulder, that my chair in Kingdom Come will be next to thine? Before\nJesus could answer John and James asked him if their chairs would not be\non his left and right. But not next to the Master's, Peter answered. I'm\non the right hand of the Master, and my brother Andrew on the left. Look\ninto his face and read in it that I have said well. But the disciples\nwere not minded to read the Master's face as Peter instructed them to\nread it, and might have come to gripping each other's throats if Jesus\nhad not asked them if they would have the fat in the narrow chairs and\nthe thin in the wide, as often happens in this world. The spectacle of\nPeter trying to sit on James' chair set them laughing, and as if to make\nan end of an unseemly disputation John asked the Master whither they\nwere going to cure the sick that day? To which question Jesus made no\nanswer, for he felt no power on him that day to cure the sick or to cast\nout demons. You'll see him do these things on another occasion, Peter\nwhispered in Joseph's ear; to-day he's deep in one of his meditations,\nand we dare not ask him whither he be going, but must just follow him.\nAs likely as not he'll lead us up into the hills for---- But I see\nSalome coming this way. You know her sons, John and James. The woman\nbears me an ill will and would have my chair set far down, belike as not\nbetween Nathaniel and Philip, who as you have noticed do not hold their\nheads very high in our company. But let us hasten a little to hear what\nshe has to say. Listen, 'tis as I said, Master, Peter continued; you\nheard her ask him that her sons should sit on either side of him. Now\nmark his answer, if he answers her; I doubt if he will, so dark is his\nmood.\n\nBut dark though it was he answered her with a seeming cheerfulness that\nin the coming world there is neither weariness of spirit nor of body,\nand therefore chairs are not set in heaven. A fine answer that, and\nPeter chuckled; too wise for thee. Go home and ponder on it. We shall\nlie on couches when we are not flying, he added, and being in doubt he\nasked Joseph if the heavenly host was always on the wing. A question\nthat seemed somewhat silly to Joseph, though he could not have given his\nreason for thinking it silly. Peter called on Jesus to hasten for the\ndisciples were half way up the principal street at a turning whither\ntheir way led through the town by olive garths and orchards, and finding\na path through these they came upon green corn sown in patches just\nbeginning to show above ground, and the fringe of the wood higher up the\nhillside--some grey bushes with young oaks starting through them, still\nbare of leaves, ferns beginning to mark green lanes into the heart of\nthe woods, and certain dark wet places where the insects had already\nbegun to hum. But when the wood opened out the birds were talking to one\nanother, blackbird to blackbird, thrush to thrush, robin to robin, kin\nunderstanding kin, and every bird uttering vain jargon to them that did\nnot wear the same beak and feathers, just like ourselves, Joseph said to\nhimself and he stood stark before a hollow into which he remembered\nhaving once been forbidden to stray lest a wolf should pounce upon him\nsuddenly. Now he was a man, he was among men, and all had staves in\ntheir hands, and the thoughts of wolves departed at the sight of a wild\nfruit tree before which Jesus stopped, and calling John and James to\nhim, as if he had forgotten Peter, he said: you see that tree covered\nwith beautiful blossoms, but the harsh wind which is now blowing along\nthe hillside will bear many of the blossoms away before the fruit begins\nto gather. And the birds will come and destroy many a berry before the\nplucker comes to pick the few that remain for the table. How many of you\nthat are gathered about me now---- He stopped suddenly, and his eyes\nfalling on John he addressed his question directly to him as if he\ndoubted that Peter would apprehend the significance of the parable. But\nJoseph, whom it touched to the quick, was moved to cry out, Master, I\nunderstand; restraining himself, however, or his natural diffidence\nrestraining him, he could only ask Peter to ask Jesus for another\nparable. Peter reproved Joseph, saying that it were not well to ask\nanything from the Master at present, but that his mood might improve\nduring the course of the afternoon. Thomas, who did not know the Master\nas well as Peter, could not keep back the question that rose to his\nlips. Our trade, he said, is in apricots, but is it the same with men as\nwith the apricots, or shall we live to see the fruit that thou hast\npromised us come to table? Whereupon James and John began to ask which\nwere the blossoms among them that would be eaten by the birds and\ninsects and which would wither in the branches. Shall I feed the\ninsects, Master? Matthew asked, or shall I be eaten by the birds? A\nquestion that seemed to everyone so stupid that none was surprised that\nJesus did not answer it, but turning to Philip he asked him: canst thou\nnot, Philip, divine my meaning? But Philip, though pleased to come under\nthe Master's notice, was frightened, and could think of no better answer\nthan that the apricots they would eat in Paradise would be better. For\nthere are no harsh winds in Paradise, isn't that so, Master? Thy\nquestion is no better than Salome's, Jesus answered, who sees Paradise\nranged with chairs. Then everyone wondered if there were no chairs nor\napricots in Paradise of what good would Paradise be to them; and were\ndissatisfied with the answer that Jesus gave to them, that the soul is\nsatisfied in the love of God as the flower in the sun. But with this\nanswer they had to content themselves, for so dark was his face that\nnone dared to ask another question till Matthew said: Master, we would\nunderstand thee fairly. If there be no chairs nor apricots in Paradise\nthere cannot be a temple wherein to worship God. To which Jesus\nanswered: God hath no need of temples in Paradise, nor has he need of\nany temple except the human heart wherein he dwells. It is not with\nincense nor the blood of sheep and rams that God is worshipped, but in\nthe heart and with silent prayers unknown to all but God himself, who\nknows all things. And the day is coming, I say unto you, when the Son of\nMan shall return with his Father to remake this world afresh, but before\nthat time comes you would do well to learn to love God in your hearts,\nelse all my teaching is vainer than any of the things in this world that\nye are accustomed to look upon as vain. Upon this he took them to a\nmountain-side where the rock was crumbling, and he said: you see this\ncrumbling rock? Once it held together, now it is falling into sand, but\nit shall be built up into rock again, and again it shall crumble into\nsand. At which they drew together silent with wonder, each fearing to\nask the other if the Master were mad, for though they could see that the\nrock might drift into sand, they could not see how sand might be built\nup again into rock.\n\nMaster, how shall we know thee when thou returnest to us? Wilt thou be\nchanged as the rock changes? Wilt thou be sand or rock? It was Andrew\nthat had spoken; and Philip answered him that the Master will return in\na chariot of fire, for he was angry that a fellow of Andrew's stupidity\nshould put questions to Jesus whether they were wise or foolish; but\ncould they be aught else than foolish coming from him? Andrew,\npersisting, replied: but we may not be within sight of the Master when\nhe steps out of his chariot of fire, and we are only asking for a token\nwhereby we may know him from his Father. My Father and thy Father,\nAndrew, Jesus answered, the Father of all that has lived, that lives,\nand that shall live in the world; and the law over the rock that\ncrumbles into sand and the sand that is built up into rock again, was in\nthat rock before Abraham was, and will abide in it and in the flower\nthat grows under the rock till time everlasting. But, Master, wilt thou\ntell us if the rock we are looking upon was sand or rock in the time of\nAbraham? Philip asked, and Jesus answered him: my words are not then\nplain, that before that rock was and before the sand out of which the\nrock was built, was God's love--that which binds and unbinds enduring\nalways though the rock pass into sand and the sand into rock a thousand\ntimes.\n\nAnd it was then that a disciple poked himiself up to Jesus to ask him if\nthey were not to believe the Scriptures. He answered him that the\nScriptures were no more than the love of God. This answer did not quell\nthe dissidents, but caused them to murmur more loudly against him, and\nJesus, though he must have seen that he was about to lose some\ndisciples, would retract nothing. The Scriptures are, he repeated, but\nthe love of God. He that came to betray him said: and the Gentiles that\nhaven't the Scriptures? Jesus answered that all men that have the love\nof God in their hearts are beloved by God. Is it then of no value to\ncome of the stock of Abraham? the man asked, and Jesus replied: none,\nbut a loss if ye do not love God, for God asks more from those whose\nminds he has opened than from those whose minds he has suffered to\nremain shut. At which Peter cried: though there be not a pint of wine in\nall heaven we will follow thee, and though there be no fish in heaven\nbut the scaleless that the Gentiles eat---- He stopped suddenly and\nlooked at Jesus, saying: there are no Gentiles in heaven. Heaven is open\nto all men that love God, Jesus said, and after these words he continued\nto look at Peter, but like one that sees things that are not before him;\nand the residue followed him over the hills, saying to themselves: he is\nthinking about this journey to Jerusalem, and then a little later one\nsaid to the others: he is in commune with the spirits that lead him,\nasking them to spare him this journey, for he knows that the Pharisees\nwill rise up against him, and will stone him if he preach against the\nTemple. What else should he preach against? asked another disciple; and\nthey continued to watch Jesus, trying to gather from his face what his\nthoughts might be, thinking that his distant eyes might be seeking a\nprediction of the coming kingdom in the sky. We might ask him if he sees\nthe kingdom coming this way, an apostle whispered in the ear of\nanother, and was forthwith silenced, for it was deemed important that\nthe Master should never be disturbed in his meditations, whatever they\nmight be.\n\nHe stood at gaze, his apostles and his disciples watching from a little\ndistance, recalling the day his dog Coran refused to follow him, and\nseeing that the dog had something on his mind, he left his flock in\ncharge of the other dogs and followed Coran to the hills above the Brook\nKerith, down a little crumbling path to Elijah's cave. He found John the\nBaptist, and recognising in him Elijah's inheritor--at that moment a\nflutter of wings in the branches awoke him from his reverie, and seeing\nhis disciples about him, he asked them whose inheritor he was. Some said\nElijah, some said Jeremiah, some said Moses. As if dissatisfied with\nthese answers, he looked into their faces, as if he would read their\nsouls, and asked them to look up through the tree tops and tell him what\nthey could see in a certain space of sky. In fear of his mood, and lest\nhe might call them feeble of sight or purblind, his disciples, or many\namong them, fell to disputing among themselves as to what might be\ndiscerned by human eyes in the cloud; till John, thinking to raise\nhimself in the Master's sight, so it seemed to Joseph (who dared not\nraise his eyes to the sky, but bent them on the earth), said that he\ncould see a chariot drawn by seven beasts, each having on its forehead\nseven horns; the jaws of these beasts, he averred, were like those of\nmonkeys, and in their paws, he said, were fourteen golden candlesticks.\nAndrew, being misled by the colour of the cloud which was yellow, said\nthat the seven beasts were like leopards; whereas Philip deemed that\nthe beasts were not leopards, for him they were bears; and they began to\ndispute one with the other, some discerning the Father Almighty in a\nchariot, describing him to be a man garmented in white; his hair is like\nwool, they said. And seated beside him Matthew saw the Son of Man with\nan open book on his knees. But these visions, to their great trouble,\ndid not seem to interest Jesus; or not sufficiently for their intention;\nand to the mortification of Peter and Andrew, James and John, he turned\nto Thaddeus and Aristion and asked them what they saw in the clouds, and\npartly because they were loath to say they could see naught, and also\nthinking to please him, they began to see a vision, and their vision was\nan angel whom they could hear crying: at thy bidding, O Lord; on which\nhe emptied his vial into the Euphrates, and forthwith the river was\nturned to blood. The second angel crying likewise, at thy bidding, O\nLord, emptied his vial; and when the third angel had emptied his, three\nanimals of the shape of frogs crawled out of the river; and then from\nover the mountains came a great serpent to devour the frog-shapen\nbeasts, and after devouring them he vomited forth a great flood, and the\nwoman that had been seated on it was borne away. It was Thaddeus that\nspoke the last words, and he would have continued if Jesus' eyes had not\nwarned him that the Master was thinking of other things, perhaps seeing\nand hearing other things. It is known to you all, he said, that Jeremiah\nkneels at the steps of my Father's throne praying for the salvation of\nIsrael? Therefore tell me what is your understanding of the words\n\"praying for the salvation of Israel\"? Was the prophet praying that\nIsrael might be redeemed from the taxes the Romans had imposed upon\nthem? Being without precise knowledge of how much remission Jeremiah\nmight obtain for them, it seemed to them that it would be well to say\nthat Jeremiah was praying to God to delay no longer, but send the\nMessiah he had promised. At which Jesus smiled and asked them if the\nMessiah would remit the taxes; and the disciples answered craftily that\nthe Messiah would set up the Kingdom of God on earth: in which kingdom\nno taxes are levied, Jesus replied. Come, he said, let us sit upon these\nrocks and talk of the great prophecies, for I would hear from you how\nyou think the promised kingdom will come to pass. And the disciples\nanswered, one here, one there, and then in twos and threes. But, Master,\nthou knowest all these things, since it is to thee our Father has given\nthe task of establishing his Kingdom upon earth; tell us, plague us no\nlonger with dark questions. We are not alone, Thaddeus cried, a rich\nman's son is amongst us. If he have come amongst us God has sent him,\nJesus said, and we should have no fear of riches, since we desire them\nnot. This kindness heartened Joseph, who dared to ask Jesus how he might\ndisburden himself of the wealth that would come to him at his father's\ndeath.\n\nAs no such dilemma as Joseph's had arisen before, all waited to hear\nJesus, but his thoughts having seemingly wandered far, they all fell to\nargument and advised Joseph in so many different ways that he did not\nknow to whom to accede so contradictory were all their notions of\nfairness; and, the babble becoming louder, it waked Jesus out of his\nmood, and catching Joseph's eyes, he asked him if he whom our Father\nsent to establish his Kingdom on earth would not have to give his life\nto men for doing it. A question that Joseph could not answer; and while\nhe sought for the Master's meaning the disciples began again aloud to\nbabble and to put questions to the Master, hurriedly asking him why he\nthought he must die before going up to heaven. Did not Elijah, they\nasked, ascend into heaven alive in his corporeal body?--and the cloak he\nleft with Elisha, Aristion said, might be held to be a symbol of the\nfleshly body. This view was scorned, for the truth of the Scriptures\ncould not be that the disciples inherited not the spiritual power of the\nprophet, but his fleshly show. Then the fate of Judas the Gaulonite\nrising up in Peter's mind, he said: but, Master, we shall not allow thee\nto be slain on a cross and given as food to the birds. The disciples\nraised their staves, crying, we're with thee, Master, and the forest\ngave back their oaths in echoes that seemed to reach the ends of the\nearth; and when the echoes ceased a silence came up from the forest that\nshut their lips, and, panic-stricken, all would have run away if Peter\nhad not drawn the sword which he had brought with him in case of an\nattack by wolves, and swore he would strike the man down that raised his\nhand against the Master. To which Jesus replied that every man is born\nto pursue a destiny, and that he had long known that his led to\nJerusalem, whereupon Peter cried out: we'll defend thee from thyself;\nfor which words Jesus reproved him, saying that to try to save a man\nfrom himself were like trying to save him from the decree that he brings\ninto the world with his blood. And what is mine, Master? It may be,\nJesus answered, to return to thy fishing. Whereupon Peter wept, saying:\nMaster, if we lose thee we're as sheep that have lost their shepherd, a\nhuddled, senseless flock on the hillside, for we have laid down our nets\nto follow thee, believing that the Kingdom of God would come down here\nin Galilee rather than in Jerusalem; pray that it may descend here, for\nthou'lt be safer here, Master; we have swords and staves to defend\nthee--so let us kneel in prayer and ask the Lord that he choose Galilee\nrather than Judea for the setting up of his kingdom. To which Jesus\nanswered nothing, and his face was as if he had not heard Peter; and\nthen Peter's fears for Jesus' life, should he go to Jerusalem, seemed to\npass on from one to the other, till all were possessed by the same fear,\nand Peter said: let us lift up our hearts to our Father in Heaven and\npray that Jesus be not taken from us. Let us kneel, he said, and they\nall knelt and prayed, but to their supplication Jesus seemed\nindifferent. And seeing they were unable to dissuade him from Jerusalem,\nPeter turned to Joseph. Here is one, he said, who knows the perils of\nJerusalem and will bear witness, that if thou preach that God have no\nneed of a Temple or a sacrifice, thou'lt surely be done to death by the\npriests.\n\nPeter's sudden appeal to his knowledge of the priests of Jerusalem awoke\nJoseph, who was wholly absorbed in his love of Jesus, and thought only\nof rushing forward and worshipping; but he was held back and strained\nforward at the same time, and seeing he was overcome, Peter did not\npress him for an answer, and Joseph fell back among the crowd, ashamed,\nthinking that if Peter came to him again he would speak forthright. He\nhad words that would bring him into the sympathy of Jesus, but instead\nof speaking them he stood, held at gaze by the beauty of the bright\nforehead, large and arched; and so exalted were the eyes that Joseph\ncould not think else than that Jesus was looking upon things that his\ndisciples did not see. It seemed to Joseph that Jesus was meditating\nwhether he should confide all he saw and heard to his disciples. He\nwaited, tremulous with expectation, watching the thin scrannel throat\nout of which rose a voice to which the ear became attuned quickly and\nwas gratified as by a welcome dissonance. It rose up among the silence\nof the pines, and the delight of listening to it, Joseph thought, was so\nnear to intoxication that he would have pressed forward if he had not\nremembered suddenly that he was a new-comer into the community; one who\nmight at any moment be driven out of it because he possessed riches\nwhich he could not unburden himself of. So he kept his seat in the\nbackground among the casual followers, by two men whose accents told him\nthey were Samaritans, and these now seemed within the last few minutes\nto have become opposed to Jesus, and Joseph wondered at the change that\nhad come over them and lent an ear to their discourse so that he might\ndiscover a reason for it. And it was not long before he discovered that\ntheir objection related to the Book of Daniel, for they were of the sort\nthat receive no Scriptures after the five Books of the Law.\n\nJoseph knew the book less perhaps than any other book of the Scriptures;\nhe had looked into it with Azariah, but for a reason which he could not\nnow discover he had read it with little attention; and since his\nschooldays he had not looked into it again. Peter and Andrew and John\nand James were listening intently to the story of Nebuchadnezzar's dream\nfor the sake of the story related and without thought of what might be\nJesus' purpose in relating it. But to Joseph Jesus' purpose was the\nchief interest of the relation; and the purpose became apparent when he\nbegan to tell how the great statue seen by Nebuchadnezzar in his dream,\nwhose head was gold, whose arms and breast were silver, whose belly was\nbrass, and whose legs and feet were iron and clay intermingled, was\noverthrown by a stone that hand had not cut out of the mountain. This\nstone became forthwith as big as a mountain and filled the whole earth,\nand Joseph fell to thinking if this stone were the fifth kingdom which\nthe Messiah would set up when the Roman kingdom had fallen to dust, or\nwhether the stone were the Messiah himself. And while Joseph sat\nthinking he heard suddenly that when Nebuchadnezzar looked into the\nfurnace and saw the four men whom he had ordered to be thrown into it\nwalking through the flames safely, he said: and the form of the fourth\nis like the son of God.\n\nThe story wholly delighted the disciples; and they asked Jesus to tell\nthem the further adventures of Daniel, and as if wishing to humour them\nhe began to relate that a hand had appeared writing on the wall during\nthe great feast at Babylon, a story to which Joseph could give but\nlittle heed, for his imagination was controlled by the words, \"whose\nform is like the son of God\"--an inspiration on the part of the\nBabylonian king. If ever a man had seemed since to another like the son\nof God, Jesus was that man; and Joseph asked himself how it was that\nthese words had passed over the ears of the disciples--over the ears of\nthose who knew Jesus' mind, if any could be said to know Jesus' mind.\nJesus, though he lived near them and loved them, lived in the world of\nhis own thoughts, which, so it seemed to Joseph, he could not share with\nanybody. Not one of the men he had gathered about him, neither Peter,\nnor John, nor James, had noticed the notable words: \"And the form of the\nfourth is like the son of God.\" It was for these words, Joseph felt\nsure, that Jesus had related the story of Daniel in the furnace. But his\ndisciples had not apprehended the significance; and like one whose\nconfidence was unmoved by the slowness or the quickness of his\nlisteners, almost as if he knew that the real drift of his speech was\nbeyond his hearers, Jesus began to tell that Darius' counsellors had\ncombined into a plot against Daniel and succeeded in it so well that\nDaniel and his companions were cast in a den of lions. But there being\nnothing in the story that pointed to the setting up of the Kingdom of\nGod upon earth, Joseph was puzzled to understand why Jesus was at pains\nto relate it at such length. Was it to amuse his disciples? he asked\nhimself, but no sooner had he put the question to himself than the\npurpose of the relation passed into his mind. Jesus had told the\nmarvellous stories of Daniel's escapes from death so that his disciples\nmight have no fear that the priests of Jerusalem would have power to\ndestroy him: whomsoever God sends into the world to do his work, Jesus\nwould have us understand, are under God's protection for ever and ever;\nand Joseph rejoiced greatly at having discovered Jesus' intent, and for\na long time the glen, the silent forest and the men sitting listening to\nthe Master were all forgotten by him. He even forgot the Master's\npresence, so filled was he by the abundant hope that his divination of\nthe Master's intent marked him out as one to be associated with the\nMaster's work--more than any one of those now listening to him, more\nthan Peter himself.\n\nAnd so sweet was his reverie to him that he regretted the passing of it\nas a misfortune, but finding he was in spirit as well as in body among\nrealities, he lent his ear to the story of the four winds that had\nstriven upon the great sea and driven up four great beasts. These beasts\nJoseph readily understood to be but another figuration of the four great\nempires; the Babylonian, the Persian, and the Grecian had been blown\naway like dust, and as soon as the fourth, the Roman Empire, was broken\ninto pieces the kingdom of the whole world would be given to the people\nof the saints of the Most High. It was Philip the nearly hunchback that\nasked Jesus for an explanation of this vision--saying, and obtaining the\napproval of several for the question, would he, Jesus, acquiesce in this\nsharing of the earth among the angels who had not seen him, nor heard\nhim, nor served him upon earth. If the earth is to be shared among the\nangels we follow thee in vain, he muttered; and Joseph felt that he\ncould never speak freely again with Philip for having dared to interrupt\nthe Master and weary him with questions that a child could answer. To\nwhom Philip said: but you, young Master, that have received good\ninstruction in Hebrew and Greek from the scribe Azariah, and have\ntravelled far, do you answer my question. If the earth is to be shared\namong angels---- He was not allowed to repeat more of his question, for\na clamour of explanation began among the disciples that the earth would\nnot be shared among the angels of God--God would find his people\nrepentant when he arrived with his son. At last the assembly settled\nthemselves to listen to the story of the vision in which a ram pushed\nwestward and northward and southward, till a he-goat came from the\nwest--one with a notable horn between the eyes, and butted the ram till\nhe had broken his two horns. Joseph had forgotten these visions, and he\nlearnt for the first time, so it seemed to him, that the goat meant the\nSyrian king, Antiochus, who had conquered Jerusalem, polluted the\nsanctuary and set up heathen gods. But how are all these visions\nconcerned with the setting up of the Kingdom of God on earth? and Jesus'\npurpose did not appear to him till Daniel heard a voice between the\nbanks of the Ula crying: make this man understand. Joseph understood\nforthwith that Jesus' purpose was still the same, to make it plain to\nthe disciples that Daniel was protected and guided by God, and, that\nbeing so, Jesus could go to Jerusalem fearing nothing, he being greater\nthan Daniel. So he sat immersed in belief, hearing but faintly the many\nmarvellous things that Daniel heard and saw, nor did he awake from his\nreverie till Jesus announced that Gabriel flew about Daniel at the hour\nof the evening oblation, telling him that seventy weeks was the measure\nof time allowed by God to make reconciliation for iniquity and bring\neverlasting righteousness, and build Jerusalem unto the Messiah; and\nthat after three score and two weeks the Messiah should be cut off but\nnot for himself.\n\nThe words \"cut off but not for himself\" troubled Joseph, and he pondered\nthem, while the disciples marvelled at hearing Jesus speak of these\nthings (he seemed to know the Scriptures by rote), and his voice went\nupward into the silence of the firs, and they heard as if in a dream\nthat the king of the south should come into his kingdom and return to\nhis own land. But his sons shall be stirred up and shall revolt against\nhim, Jesus said, and the disciples marvelled greatly, for Jesus made\nclear the meaning that lay under these dark sayings, and they heard and\nunderstood how the robbers of the people should exalt themselves and\nestablish a vision; but these shall fall and the king of the north shall\ncome and cast up mounds and take the fortified cities. And they heard of\ndestructions and leagues and armies and sanctuaries that were polluted,\nand of peoples who did not know their God, but who nevertheless became\nstrong; and they heard of Edom and Moab and the children of Ammon, but\nat the end of all these troubles the Tabernacle was placed between the\nseas of the glorious holy mountain. And that day the fishers from the\nlake of Galilee and others heard that Michael had told the people of\nIsrael that those that were dead should rise out of the earth and come\ninto everlasting life. But can the dead be raised up and come to life in\ntheir corruptible bodies? asked the Samaritans that sat by Joseph, and\ntheir mutterings grew louder, and they denied that the prophet Daniel\nhad spoken truth in this and many other things, and as he had not spoken\ntruth he was a false prophet; whereupon so great a clamour arose that\nthe wild beasts in the ravine began to growl, being awaked in their\nlairs. The disciples, foreseeing that it would soon be dark night in the\nforest, fell to seeking the way back to Capernaum, the Galileans in one\ngroup with Jesus among them, the Samaritans speeding away together and\nstopping at times for fresh discussion with the Galileans, asking among\nmany other things how the corruptible body might be raised up to heaven\nand live indulging in the many imperfections inherent in our bodies. It\nwas vain to ask them what justice there would be if the men that had\ndied before the coming of the Kingdom of God were not raised up into\nheaven. If this were true the dead had led virtuous lives in vain; they\nmight for all it had profited them have lived like the heathen.\n\nIt was at Capernaum that the truth became manifest that not only was\nDaniel denied, but Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, all the prophets since\nMoses, at which the disciples were greatly incensed and raised their\nstaves against the Samaritans, but Jesus dissuaded his followers, and\nthe dissidents were suffered to depart unhurt. Let them go, Jesus said,\nfor they are in the hands of God, like ourselves, and he bade them all\ngood-night, and there seemed to Joseph to be a great sadness in Jesus'\nvoice, as if he felt that in this world there was little else but\nleave-taking.\n\nJoseph too resented this parting, though it was for but a few hours; he\nwould unite himself to Jesus, become one, as the mother and the unborn\nbabe are one--he would be of the same mind and flesh; all division\nseemed to him loss, till, frightened at his own great love of Jesus, he\nstopped in the Plain of Gennesaret, star-gazing. But the stars told him\nnothing, and he walked on again. And it was about a half-hour's walk\nfrom Magdala that he overtook the Samaritans, who sought to draw him\ninto argument. But he was in no humour for further discussion, and\ndismissed them, saying: what matter if all the prophets were false since\nthe promised Messiah is among us. He has come, he has come! he repeated\nall the way home: and at every flight of the high stairs he tried to\ncollect his thoughts. But his brain was whirling, and he could only\nrepeat: he has come, he has come!\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XIV.\n\n\nIt seemed to Joseph as he hurried along the Plain of Gennesaret that the\nsun shone gayer than his wont, but as he approached Capernaum he began\nto think that the sun had risen a little earlier than his wont. Nobody\nwas about! He listened in vain for some sound of life, till at last his\near caught a sound as of somebody moving along the wharves, and, going\nthither, he came upon Peter storing his oars in the boathouse. Making\nready, Joseph said, for fishing? You don't see, Master, that I'm putting\nmy oars away, but I'd as lief take them out again and fish till evening.\nHere was a mysterious answer from the least mysterious of men, and Peter\ncontinued in his work, throwing the oars into a corner like one that\ncared little if he broke them, and kicking his nets aside as if he were\nnever going to let them down again into the lake: altogether his mood\nwas of an exasperation such as Joseph had never suspected to be possible\nin this good-humoured, simple fellow. Had he been obliged to leave the\ncommunity or sell his boats? If that were so, his chance (Joseph's\nchance) of entering the community was a poor one indeed; and he begged\nPeter to relate his trouble to him--for trouble there had been last\nnight, he was sure of it.\n\nTrouble there always is in this world, Peter answered, so long as I've\nknown it, and will be till God sets up his kingdom. The sooner he does\nit the better, so say I. But I don't know about the saints we heard of\nyesterday, what they have to do with it. The Master's mood is stranger\nthan I ever can recollect it, he said, standing up straight and looking\nJoseph in the eyes. It was yourself that said it yesterday, Peter,\nJoseph rejoined. I'm thinking it may have been the Samaritans that vexed\nhim. Peter lifted his heavy shoulders and muttered: the Samaritans? We\ngive no heed to them: and he began to speak, at first with diffidence;\nJoseph had to woo him into speaking, which he did; but after the first\nfew minutes Peter was glib enough, telling Joseph that last night there\nhad been stirs and quarrels among the disciples regarding his boats, and\nJohn's and James' boats too, he said, and by the jealous and envious, he\nmuttered, who would like to come between us and the Master. Joseph asked\nwho had raised the vexatious question, but Peter avoided it, and went\nabout the wharf grunting that none could answer it: was it to Matthew,\nthe publican, he was to give his boats? one, he said, who never was on\nthe water in his life till I took him out for a sail a week come\nTuesday. A fine use they'd be to him but to drown himself. A puff of\nwind, and not knowing how to take in a reef, the boat would be over in a\njiffy and the nets lost. Now who would be the better for the loss of my\nnets? answer me that. And I'd like to be told when my boats and nets\nwere at the bottom of the lake to whom would the Son of Man turn for a\ncorner in which to lay his head, or for a bite or a sup of wine. John\nand James would give their boats to Judas belike, and he'd bring home\nabout as much fish as would---- But I'm thinking of your father. What\nwill he be saying to all this, and his business dwindling all the while,\nand we beggars?--the words with which my wife roused me this morning. Of\ncourse, says she, if the stone that never was cut out of the mountain\nwith hands is going to be slung and send the Romans toppling, I've\nnaught to say against sharing, but the Kingdom had better come quickly,\nSimon Peter, if thou'lt fish no more; and the woman is right, say I,\nthough I hold with every word that falls from the Master's lips, only\nthis way it is, he looks to my fishing for his support, and Miriam is\nquick to remind me of that. A good woman, one that has been always\nyielding to my will and never had a word against our lodger, but sets\nthe best before him out of thankfulness for his saving of her mother's\nlife, though one more mouth in a house is always a drain, if the Master\nis as easily fed as a sparrow. But restive she is now about the delay:\nas I was saying just now she wakes me up with a loud question in my ear:\nnow, Simon Peter, answer me, art thou going into Syria to bid the blind\nto see, the lame to walk, and the palsied to shake no more, or art thou\ngoing to thy trade? for in this house there be four little children,\nmyself, their mother, and thy mother-in-law. I say nothing against the\njourney if it bring thee good money, or if it bring the Kingdom, but if\nit bring naught but miracles there'll be little enough in the house to\neat by the time ye come back. And, says she, the feeding of his children\nis a nobler work for a married man (she speaks like that sometimes) than\nbidding those to see who would belike be better without their eyes than\nwith them. You wouldn't think it, but 'tis as I say: she talks up to me\nlike that, and ofttimes I've to go to the Master and ask him to quiet\nher, which he rarely fails to do, for she loves him for what he has done\nfor her mother, and is willing to wait. But last night when the\nbusybodies brought her news that the Master had been preaching in the\nforest, of the sharing of the world out among the holy saints, she gave\nway to her temper and was violent, saying, by what right are the saints\nof the most high coming here to ask for a share of this world, as if\nthey hadn't a heaven to live in. You see, good Master, there's right on\nher side, that's what makes it so hard to answer her, and I'm with her\nin this, for by what right do the holy saints down here ask for a share\nin the world, that's what keeps drumming in my head; and, as I told you\na while ago, I'd as lief put out upon the lake and fish as go to Syria\nfor nothing, say the word---- And leave the Master to go alone? Joseph\ninterposed. Well, I suppose we can't do that, Peter answered, and then\nit seemed to Joseph wiser not to talk any more, but to allow things to\nfashion their own course, which they did very amiably, in about an\nhour's time the little band going forth, Joseph walking by Peter's side,\nhoping that he would not have to wait long before seeing a miracle.\n\nTheir first stop was at Chorazin, about five miles distant, and the sick\nbegan to rise quickly from their beds, and Jesus had only to impose his\nhands for the palsied to cease quivering. The laws of nature seemed\nsuspended and Joseph forgot his father at Magdala and likewise Pilate's\nbusiness which had brought him to Galilee. It will have to wait, he\nsaid, talking with himself, and now certain that he had come upon him\nwhom he had always been seeking; it was as lost time to look at anything\nbut Jesus, or to hear any words but his, or to admire aught but the\nmanifestations of his power; and every time a sick man rose from his bed\nJoseph thanked God for having allowed him to live in the days of the\nMessiah. He saw sight restored to the blind, hearing to the deaf,\nswiftness of foot to cripples, issues of blood that had endured ten\nyears stanched; the cleansing of the leper had become too common a\nmiracle; he looked forward to seeing demons taking flight from the\nbodies of men and women, and accepted Peter's telling that the day could\nnot be delayed much longer when he would see some dead man rise up in\nhis cere-clothes from the tomb. He found no interest but in the\nmiraculous, and his one vexation of spirit was that Jesus forbade his\ndisciples (among whom Joseph now counted himself) to tell anybody that\nhe was the Messiah.\n\nIn every town they were welcomed by the Gentiles as well as by the Jews,\nwhich was surprising, and set Joseph's wits to work; and these being\nwell trained, he soon began to apprehend that the Jews accepted the\nmiracles as testimony that Jesus was really the Messiah and that his\nteaching was true; whereas the Gentiles admired the miracles for their\nown sake, failing, however, and completely, to see that because he cured\nthe blind, the palsied, the scrofulous and the halt, they should no\nlonger visit their temples and sacred groves, and admire no more Pan's\nhuge sexuality and hang garlands upon it, nor carve images of Diana and\nApollo. Such abstinence they could not comprehend, and deemed it enough\nthat they were ready to proclaim him a god on the occasion of every\ngreat miracle, a readiness that gave great scandal and caused many Jews\nto turn away from Jesus. It was not enough that he should repudiate this\ngodhead; and the hardness of heart and narrowness of soul that he\nencountered among his own people afflicted Jesus as much as did the\nincontinency of the Gentiles, whom he sometimes met, bearing images in\nprocession, going towards some shrine--the very same who had listened to\nhis teaching in the evening. Joseph once dared throw himself in front of\none of these processions, and he begged the processionists to Pan to\nthrow aside the garlands and wreaths they had woven. This they would not\ndo, but out of respect to the distinguished strangers that had come to\ntheir town they listened for some minutes to his relation that on the\nlast day the dead would be roused by the trumpets of angels to attend\nthe judgment and that the man Jesus before them--the Messiah announced\nhundreds of years ago in many a prophetic book--would return to earth in\na chariot of fire by his Father's side, the Judgment Book in his hands.\nMay we now proceed on our way? they asked, but Joseph besought them to\nlisten to him for another few minutes, and thinking he had perhaps\nexplained the resurrection badly, and forthwith calling to mind the\nphilosophy of Egypt and Mathias, he asked them to apprehend that it\nwould not be the corruptible body that would rise from the dead but the\nspiritual body, whereby he only succeeded in perplexing still further\nthe minds of the worthy pagans of C\u00e6sarea Philippi, and provoking stirs\nand quarrels among his own people.\n\nThe processionists took advantage of this diversion of opinion among the\nJews to pass on and dispose of their wreaths and votive offerings as it\npleased them to do. But on their way back they begged Jesus to perform\nsome more miracles, which he refused to do, and to their great amazement\nhe left them for the Tyrians and Sidonians. But the same difficulties\noccurred in Tyre and Sidon, the Gentiles accepting the miracles with\ndelight but paying little heed to the doctrine. They begged him to\nremain with them and offered gifts for his services as healer, but he\nrefused these and returned to Galilee, having performed miracles of all\nsorts, without, however, having bidden a dead man rise from the grave,\nto the great disappointment of Joseph, who would have liked to witness\nthis miracle (the greatest of all); seemingly it was not his lot. Peter\nbade him hope!--the great miracle might happen in Galilee, and as such a\nmiracle would evince the truth of Jesus' Messiah-ship even to his\nfather, Joseph remained in Capernaum, going out in the boats with Jesus\nand his disciples, sailing along the shores till the people gathered in\nnumbers sufficient for an exhortation. As there were always many\nPharisees and Sadducees among the crowds assembled to hear the Master,\nhe did not land, but preached standing up in the bow, Peter vigilant\nwith an oar, for priests are everywhere enemies of reformation and\ninstigate attacks upon reformers, and those made on Jesus were often so\nviolent that Peter had to strike out to the right and left, but he\nalways managed to get free, and they sailed for less hostile coasts or\nback to the wharf at Capernaum.\n\nIt once occurred to them to try their luck with the Gadarenes, and it\nwas in returning from their coasts one evening that Peter's boat was\ncaught in a great storm and that Joseph was met by one of his father's\nservants as he jumped ashore. The man had come to tell him that if he\nwished to see his father alive he must hasten to Magdala, and Joseph\nglared at him dumbfounded, for he had suspected all along that he had\nlittle or no right at all to leave his father for Jesus. I did not know\nI was like this, he blurted out to himself. And as much to silence his\naccusing conscience as anything else he questioned the stupid messenger,\nasking him if his father had seen a physician, and if the physician had\nheld out any hopes of a recovery. But the thin and halting account which\nwas all the messenger could give only increased Joseph's alarm, and it\nwas with much difficulty that he learnt from him that the master had\nbrought some walnuts to the parrots, and just after giving a nut to the\ngreen parrot had cried out to Tobias that a great pain had come into his\nhead. Joseph dug his heels into his ass's side and cried to the\nmessenger: and then? The messenger answered that the pain in the back of\nhis father's head had become so great that he had begun to reel about,\noverthrowing one of the parrots on its perch. The parrot flew at master,\nthinking he had done it---- Never mind the parrot, Joseph replied\nangrily, confusing the messenger, who told him that the master had\nentered the house on Tobias' arm, and had sat down to supper but had\neaten nothing to speak of. None of us dared to go to bed that night, the\nmessenger continued. We sat up, expecting every moment somebody to come\ndown from the room overhead to tell us that the master was dead. The\nnext part of the messenger's story was like a tangled skein, and Joseph\nhalf heard and half understood that the great physician that had come\nfrom Tiberias had said that he must awaken the master out of the swoon\nand at any cost. He kept bawling at him, the messenger said. Bawling at\nhim, Joseph repeated after the messenger, and the messenger repeated the\nwords, bawling at him, and saying that the physician said the master's\nswoon was like a wall and that he must get him to hear him somehow. He\nsaid the effort would cost your father, Sir, a great deal, but he must\nget him to hear him. The story as the servant related it seemed\nincredible, but he reflected that servants' stories are always\nincredible, and Joseph learned with increasing wonder that Dan had heard\nthe physician and sat up in bed and spoken reasonably, but had fallen\nback again unconscious, and that the physician on leaving him said that\nthey must get his mouth open somehow and pour a spoonful of milk into\nhis mouth, and call upon him as loudly as they could to swallow. What\nphysician have they sent for? Joseph asked the messenger, but he could\nnot remember the name.\n\nIt was Ecanus who was sitting by Dan's bedside when Joseph arrived, and\nJoseph learnt by careful nursing and feeding him every ten minutes there\nwas just a chance of saving Dan's life.\n\nFor seven days Dan's life receded, and it was not till the eighth day\nthe wheel of life paused on the edge of the abyss. Dan, with his eyes\nturned up under the eyelids, only the white showing, lay motionless; and\nit was not till the morning of the ninth day that the wheel began to\nrevolve back again; but so slow were its revolutions that Joseph was in\ndoubt for two or three days. But on the fifth day he was sure that Dan\nwas mending, and in about three days more the pupils of Dan's eyes\nlooked at his son's from under the eyelids. He spoke a few words and\ntook his milk more easily, without being asked to swallow. The pains in\nhis head returned with consciousness; he often moaned; the doctor was\nobliged to give him opiates, but he continued to mend and in three weeks\nwas speaking of going out to walk in the garden. To gain his end he\noften showed a certain childish cunning, urging Joseph on one occasion\nto go to the verandah to see if somebody was coming up the garden, and\nas soon as Joseph's back was turned he slipped out of bed with the\nintention of getting to his clothes. He fell, without, however, hurting\nhimself, and was put back to bed and kept there for three more weeks\nbefore he was allowed a short walk. Even then the concession seemed to\nbe given too soon; for he could not distinguish the different trees, nor\ncould he see the parrots, though he could hear them, and he remained in\npurblindness for some two or three weeks; but his sight returned, and he\nsaid to Joseph: that is a palm-tree and that is a pepper-tree. Joseph\nanswered that he said truly and hastened across the garden to meet\nEcanus, for he desired to ask him privily if his father were out of all\ndanger; and the answer to his question was that Dan's life would pass\naway in a swoon like the one he had just come out of, but he might swoon\nmany times--two or three times, perhaps oftener--before he swooned for\nthe last time. More than that Ecanus could not say. A silence fell\nsuddenly between them, and wondering what term of life his father had\nstill to traverse before he swooned into eternity, Joseph followed the\nphysician through the wilting alleys, seeking the shadiest parts, for\nthe summer was well-nigh upon them now.\n\nAt the end of one of these, out of the sun's rays, the old man lay\npropped up among cushions, dreaming, or perhaps only conscious, of the\nrefreshing breeze that came and went away again. But he awoke at the\nsound of their steps on the sanded paths, and raised his stick as a sign\nto them to come to him, and, seeing that he wished to speak, Joseph\nleaned over his chair, putting his ear close to his father's face, for\nDan's speech was still thick and often inarticulate. Thou wast nearly\ngoing down in the storm, he said, and Joseph could hardly believe that\nhe heard rightly, for what could his father know of the storm on the\nlake, he being in a deep swoon at the time beyond the reach of words. He\nasked his father who had told him of the storm, but Dan could say no\nmore than that a voice had told him that there was a great storm upon\nthe lake and that Joseph was in it. Miracle upon miracle! Joseph cried,\nand he related his escape from shipwreck; how when coming in Peter's\nboat from the opposite shores the wind had risen, carrying the lake in\nshowers over the boat till all were wetted to their skins. But,\nunmindful of these showers, Jesus had continued his teaching, even after\na great wave wrenched away a plank or part of one. Master, if the boat\nbe not staunched we perish, Peter said, for which Jesus rebuked Peter\nand called them all to come forward and kneel closer about him. Kneel,\nhe said, your faces towards me, and forget the plank and remember your\nsins. We could not do else but as we were bidden, and we all knelt about\nhim, our thoughts fixed as well as we were able to fix them on our sins,\nbut the water was coming into the boat all the while, and in the midst\nof our prayers we said: in another moment we perish if he stay not the\nwind and waves. We thought that he would stand up in the bow and\ncommand, but he remained seated, and continued to teach us, but the wind\nlulled all the same, and when we looked round the boat was staunch\nagain, and we made the wharf at Capernaum easily.\n\nEcanus, who was a man of little faith, asked Joseph if he had seen\nanybody put his hand to the plank and restore it to its place, and\nJoseph answered that all were grouped round the Master praying, and that\nnone had fallen away from the group. But there were some in the boat\nthat saw a little angel speeding over the waves. Philip saw both wings\nand the angel's feet, but I had only a glimpse. If you would only let me\nbring him to you---- But, reading his father's face, Joseph continued:\nif you haven't faith, Father, he couldn't do anything for thee. Father,\nlet me bring him. This shows no distrust in your power, he interjected\nsuddenly, turning to Ecanus. Each man has powers given to him; some are\nphysical and some spiritual; some are powerful in one element and some\nin another. But no magician that I have met has power over fire and\nwater. Only those into whom God has descended can command both fire and\nwater alike. And he related that when they passed through Chorazin and a\nwoman ran out of her house crying that her little boy had fallen into\nthe fire, Jesus had asked her if she had applied any remedy, and on her\nsaying she had not, he had said: then I will cure him. With his breath\nhe restored him, and five minutes after the child was playing with his\nlittle comrades in the street. If, however, she had poured oil on the\nwounds he couldn't have cured them, Joseph explained, for his affinity\nwith fire would have been interrupted. In the village of Opeira a child\nwhile carrying a kettle of boiling water from the fire tipped it over,\nburning a good deal of the flesh of one foot, which, however, healed\nunder Jesus' breath almost as soon as he had breathed upon it. And yet\nanother child was healed of the croup, but this time it was John who\nimposed his hands: Jesus had transmitted some of his power over the ills\nof the flesh to the disciples. On Dan asking if Joseph had seen Jesus\ncast out devils, Joseph replied that he had, but it would take some time\nto tell the exordium. Whereupon Ecanus remembered that other patients\nwaited for his attendance and took his leave, warning Joseph before\nleaving against the danger of tiring his father, a thing that Joseph\npromised not to do; but as soon as the door closed after the physician\nDan began to beg so earnestly for stories that Joseph could not do else\nthan tell him of the miracle he had witnessed. Better to submit, he\nthought, than to agitate his father by refusal; and he began this\nnarrative; the morning of the storm, which they would not have succeeded\nin weathering had it not been for the intervention of the angel. Jesus\nand some of the disciples, including Joseph, had set their sail for the\nGadarene coasts; and finding a landing-place by a shore seeming\ndesolate, they proceeded into the country; and while seeking a\nsufficient number to exhort and to teach, their search led them past\nsome broken ruins, shards of an old castle, apparently tenantless. They\nwere about to pass it without examination when a wailing voice from one\nof the turrets brought them to a standstill. They were not at first\ncertain whether the wailing sound was the voice of the wind or a human\nvoice, but they had hearkened and with difficulty had separated the\ndoleful sound into: woe! woe! woe! unto thee Jerusalem, woe! woe! It\nsounds to me, Peter said, like one that is making a mock of thee,\nMaster. Having heard that thou foretellest woe to Chorazin---- But\nJudas, seeing a cloud gathering on Peter's face, nudged Peter, and the\ntwain went up together and some minutes after returned with a half-naked\ncreature, an outcast whom they had found crouching like a jackal in a\nhole among the stones, one clearly possessed by many devils. Now as all\nwere in wonder what his history might be, a swineherd passing by at the\ntime told them how the poor, naked creature would take a beating or a\ngift of food for his singing with the same gentle grace. The words had\nhardly passed the swineherd's lips than the possessed began to sing:\n\n    Woe! woe! woe! the winds are wailing.\n     The four great sisters, the winds of the world,\n    Call one to the other, and it is thy doom\n     They are calling, Jerusalem.\n     Woe! woe! woe!\n    The North brings ruin, the South brings sorrow,\n     The East wind grief, and the West wind tears\n     For Jerusalem.\n     Woe! woe! woe!\n\nAnd he sung this little song several times, till the hearts of the\ndisciples hardened against the outcast and they were minded to beat him\nif he did not cease; but the swineherd warned them that a surer way to\nsilence him was by giving him some food; and while he stood by eating,\nthe swineherd confided the story of the fool, or as much of it as he\nknew, to Jesus. The fool, he said, came from Jerusalem some two years\nago. He had been driven out of the Temple, which he frequented daily,\ncrying about the courts the song with which he wearied you just now,\ntill the most patient were unable to bear it any longer; and every time\nhe met a priest he looked into his face and sang: woe! woe! woe! unto\nJerusalem, and whenever he met a scribe he would cry: woe! woe! woe!\nunto Jerusalem, hindering them in their work about the Temple. Some\nstones were thrown, but enough life was left in him to crawl away, and\nas soon as he recovered from his wounds he was about again, singing his\nmelancholy ditty (he knows but one). He was told if he did not cease he\nwould be beaten with rods, but he could not cease it, and started his\nditty again as soon as he could bear a shirt on his back; and then he\nmust have travelled up here afoot, picking up a bit here and a bit\nthere, getting a lift in an ox-cart. He is without memory of anything,\nwho he is, where he came from, or who taught him his song. He does not\nknow why he chose that broken tower for a dwelling, nor do we, but\nfortunately it stands in a waste. We hear him singing as we go by to our\nwork and pitch him scraps of food from time to time. We hear him as we\nreturn in the evening to our homes making his melancholy dwelling sadder\nwith his song. But he is a harmless, poor fool, save for the annoyance\nof his song, which he cannot stanch any more than the wind in the broken\nturrets. A harmless fool who will follow whosoever asked him to follow,\nunafraid, and taking a blow or a hunch of bread in the same humour, and\ndistinguishing no man from the next one.\n\nAs the swineherd said these words the fool said: Jesus, thou hast come\nto my help, but woe to thee, Son of God, thou wilt suffer thy death in\nJerusalem; and looking up into Jesus' face more intensely: oh, Son of\nMan, what aileth thee or me? And knowest thou anything of the cloud of\nwoe that hangs over Jerusalem? To which Jesus made no answer, but called\nupon the devils to say how many there were, and they answered: three.\nThen depart ye three, Jesus replied, and was about to impose his hands\nwhen the three devils asked whither they should go, to which Jesus\nanswered: ye must seek another refuge, for here ye cannot remain. Seek\namong the wolves and foxes. But these will flee from us, the devils\nanswered; allow us to enter the hogs rooting the ground before thee. But\nat this the swineherd cried out: forbid the devils to enter into my\nhogs, else they will run over the cliffs and drown themselves in the\nsea. Though you are Jews, and do not look favourably on hogs, they are\nas God made them. To which Jesus answered, turning to his disciples: the\nman speaks well, for if unclean they be, it was the will of God that\nmade them so. And taking pity on the hogs that were rooting quietly,\nunaware of the devils eager to enter into them, he said: there are\nstatues of gods and goddesses in Tiberias, enter into them. And\nimmediately the devils took flight, giving thanks to Jesus as they\ndeparted thither.\n\nJoseph waited a moment and tried to read his father's face. But Dan's\nface remained fixed, and as if purposely, which vexed Joseph, who cried:\nnow, Father, you may believe or disbelieve, or be it thou'rt naturally\naverse from Jesus, but thou knowest as well as I do that two days after\nthe great storm a statue of the goddess Venus fell from her pedestal in\nthe streets of Tiberias and was broken. But, Joseph, when the statue\nfell I was sick and had no knowledge of the fall. But if a statue of the\ngoddess Venus did fall from her pedestal, I'd ask why the devils should\nchoose to destroy false gods? Were it not more reasonable for them to\nuphold the false gods safe and secure on their pedestals? The gods were\noverthrown for a sign that the devils had left the fool's body, Joseph\nanswered. But why, Dan replied, didn't three statues fall?--a statue for\neach devil--and whither did the devils go? That one statue should fall\nwas enough for a sign, Joseph said, but no more would he say, for his\nfather's incredulity irritated him, and seeing that he had angered his\nson, Dan stretched his hand to him and said: perhaps we are more eager\nto believe when we are young than when we are old. And he asked Joseph\nto tell him of some other miracle that he might have seen Jesus perform.\n\nJoseph had seen Jesus perform many other miracles, but he was loath to\nrelate them, for none, he felt sure, would impose upon his father the\nbelief that Jesus was the Messiah that was promised to the Jews. All the\nsame the miracle of the woods rose in his mind, and so plainly that he\ncould not keep the story back, and almost before he was aware of it he\nbegan the relation, telling how Jesus, James, John, Andrew, and himself\nwere at table, mingling jest with earnest (Peter was not with them,\nbeing kept at home, for his wife was in child-birth at the time), when\nthe women of the village were heard running up the street crying\ntogether to the men to take part in the chase of the wild man of the\nwoods, who had come down amongst them once more questing the flesh of\nwomen. But this time we'll put a stop to his leaping, they cried. A\ngoatherd coming from the hills has seen him enter a cave and as soon as\nhe has folded his goats he will lead us to it. But the villagers were in\nno mood for waiting; the goats could be folded by another; and the\ngoatherd was bidden and obliged to leave his goats and lead the way,\nJesus and his disciples following with the others through the forest\ntill we came to a ravine. And the goatherd said: look between yon great\nrocks, for it was between them he passed out of my sight. And let one of\nyou creep in after him, but I must return to my goats, having no\nconfidence that they have been properly folded for the night. The\ngoatherd would have run away if he hadn't been held fast, and there\nwere questions as to who would enter. The first said \"no,\" the second\nthe same, giving as reason that they were not young or strong enough,\nwhereas the goatherd was both, and none better endowed for the struggle;\nand the people became of one mind that they must beat the goatherd with\nthe crows if he did not go down into the cave, but Jesus, arriving in\ntime, said: it is not lawful to break into any man's dwelling with\ncrows, nor to kill him because his sins affront you; let us rather give\nhim means to cut himself free from sins. At which words the people were\nnear to jeering, for it seemed to them that Jesus knew little of the man\nthey were pursuing, and they knew not what to understand when he asked\nif any among them had a long, sharp knife, and there was a movement as\nif they were about to leave him; but one man said: thou shalt have mine,\nMaster, and, taking it out of his girdle, he gave it to Jesus, who\ntested it with his thumb, and, satisfied with it, laid it on the rock\nbeside the cave. But the people began to mutter: he will use the knife\nagainst us, Master. Not against you, Jesus answered, but against\nhimself, thereby defending himself against himself. There were\nmutterings among the people, and some said that his words were too hard\nto understand, but all were silent as soon as Jesus raised his hands and\nstepped towards the cave, and began to breathe his spirit against the\nlust that possessed the man's flesh. We must return here, he said, with\noil and linen cloths. At which all wondered, not knowing what meaning to\nput upon his words, but they believed Jesus, and came at daybreak to\nmeet him at the edge of the forest and followed the path as before till\nthey came to the hillside. The man was no longer hidden in his cave, but\nsat outside by the rock on which Jesus had laid the knife, and Jesus\nsaid: happy is he born into the world without sting, and happy is he out\nof whom men have taken the sting before he knew it, but happier than\nthese is the man that cuts out the part that offends him, setting the\nspirit free as this man has done.\n\nJoseph ceased speaking suddenly and stood waiting for his father to\nadmire the miracle he had related, but Dan's tongue struggled with\nwords; and Joseph, being taken as it were with another flux of words,\nand like one apprehensive of the argument that none shall undo God's\nhandiwork, set out on the telling that the cause of man's lust of women\nwas that God and the devil had a bet together--the devil saying that if\nGod let him sting a man in a certain part of his hide he would get him\nin the end despite all that God might do to save him from hell. To which\nGod, being in the humour, consented, and the sting was put into nearly\nall men. A few the devil overlooked, and these have much spared to them,\nand those out of whom the sting is taken in childhood are fortunate, but\nthose who, like the wild man of the wood, cut the sting out of their own\nfree will are worthy of all praise; and he cited the authority of Jesus\nthat man should mutilate his body till it conform perforce to his piety.\nBut the story of man's fall is told differently in the Book of Genesis,\nmy son. The admonition that he was laying violent hands on a sacred book\nstartled Joseph out of his meditations, and in some confusion of words\nand mind he began to prevaricate, saying that he thought he had made\nhimself clear: the release of pious souls from the bondage of the flesh\nwas more important than the continuance of the impious. Moreover in the\ndays of Moses, Israel was not steeped in as many iniquities as she is\nnow, and the Day of Judgment was not so close at hand. More men meant\nmore sins, and sin has become so common that God can endure the torture\nno longer.... Again Joseph ceased speaking suddenly and, almost agape,\nstood gazing into his father's face, reading therein a great perplexity,\nfor Dan was asking himself for what good reason had God given him so\nstrange a son. He would have been content to let the story pass into\nanother, but Joseph was waiting for him to speak, and speaking\nincontinently he said he had heard that in the Temple of Astoreth the\nPhoenician youths often castrated themselves with shards of shells or\npottery and threw their testicles in the lap of the goddess crying out:\nart thou satisfied now, Astoreth? But he did not know of any text in\ntheir Scriptures that counselled such a practice; and the introduction\nof it seemed to savour of borrowing from the heathen. Whereupon Joseph\naverred that whereas the wont of the Phoenician youths is without\nreason, the same could not be said of Jesus' device to save a soul. To\nwhich Dan rejoined that the leaving of the knife for the man to mutilate\nhimself with, seemed to him to be contrary to all the rumours of Jesus\nthat had come to his ears. I have heard that he would set the law aside\nand the traditions of our race, declaring the uncircumcised to be\nacceptable to God as the Jew; that he sits down to food with the\nuncircumcised and lays no store on burnt offerings. Nor did Isaiah,\nJoseph interrupted, and circumcision is itself a mutilation. I do not\ncontest its value, mark you; but if thou deny'st that Jesus was right to\nleave a knife whereby the sinner might free himself from sin thou must\nalso deny circumcision. Circumcision is the sign of our race, Dan\nanswered. A physical sign, an outward sign, Joseph cried, and he asked\nhis father to say if the Jews would ever forget priests and ritual; and\nhe reminded his father that the once sinner, now a holy anchorite, did\nnot bring an appetency into the world that could be overcome by prayer,\nand so had to resort to the knife that he might live in the spirit. It\nseems to me, Joseph, that we should live as God made us, for better or\nworse. But, Father, once you admit circumcision---- A man should not be\nover-nice, Joseph, and though it be far from my thought to wish to see\nthee a fornicator or adulterer it would rejoice me exceedingly to see\ngrandchildren about me. There is a maiden---- Another reason, Father, of\nwhich I have not yet spoken makes the marriage of the flesh seem a\nvanity to me, and that is---- I know it well, Joseph, that the great\nday is coming when the world will be remoulded afresh. But, Father, do\nye believe in nothing but observances? Tell me, Joseph, did thy prophet\never raise anybody from the dead? Yes, and hoping to convince his father\nby another miracle he fell to telling eagerly how a young girl who was\nbeing carried to the grave was called back to life.\n\nShe was, he said, coming from her wedding feast. And he told how there\nwere in the village two young girls, one as fair as the other, rivals in\nlove as well as in beauty, both having the same young man in their\nhearts, and for a long time it seemed uncertain which would get him; for\nhe seemed to favour them alternately, till at length Ruth, unable to\nbear her jealousy any longer, went to the young man, saying that she was\nclose on a resolve to see him no more. Your lover? he answered, his\ncheek blanching, for he dearly loved her. I haven't gotten a lover, she\nsaid; only a share in a lover. Your words, Ruth, relieve me of much\ntrouble, he replied, and took her in his arms and said: it was a good\nthought that brought you hither, for if you hadn't come I might never\nhave been able to decide between you, but your coming has given me\nstrength, and now I know which I desire. And then it was the girl's\ncheek that grew pale, for he hadn't answered at once which he would\nhave. Which? she asked, and he replied: you, not Rachel. If that be so,\nshe answered, I am divided between joy and sorrow; gladness for myself,\nsorrow for my friend; and it behoves me to go to her and tell her of her\nloss. I am the chosen one, she said to Rachel, who turned away, saying:\nhad I gone to him and asked him to choose between us he would have\nchosen me. He couldn't do else.\n\nShe began to brood and to speak of a spell laid upon the young man, and\nher visits to a sorceress came to be spoken about so openly that it was\nagainst the bridegroom's wish that Rachel was asked to the wedding\nfeast; but Ruth pleaded, saying that it would be no feast for her if\nRachel did not present herself at the table. The twain sat opposite each\nother at table, Rachel seemingly the happier, eating, drinking,\nlaughing, foretelling that Mondis would fill Ruth's life with happiness\nfrom end to end. Thou wilt never see the face of an evil hour, she said,\nand Ruth in her great joy answered: Rachel, I know not why he didn't\nchoose thee; thou'rt so beautiful; and the young Mondis wooed her at the\ntable, to Ruth's pleasure, for she knew of his thankfulness to Rachel\nfor allowing the wedding to pass in concord, without a jarring note.\n\nShe seemed to listen to him as a sister might to a beloved brother, and\nas the wedding feast drew to a close she said: Ruth shall drink wine\nwith me, and the cups were passed across the table, and laughter and\njest flowed on for a while. But soon after drinking from Rachel's cup\nRuth turned pale and, leaning back into the arms of her bridegroom, she\nsaid: I know not what ails me.... And then a little later on she was\nheard to say: I am going, and with a little sigh she went out of her\nlife, lying on her bridegroom's arm white and still like a cut flower.\nThe word \"poison\" swelled up louder and louder, and all eyes were\ndirected against Rachel, who to prove her innocence drank the wine that\nwas left in Ruth's glass; but it was said afterwards that she had not\ndrunk out of the cup that she had handed to Ruth. Be this as it may, a\nhouse of joy was turned into a house of tears. Bridegroom, parents and\nfriends fell into procession, and we who were coming down the street\nmet the bier, and after hearing the story of the girl's death Jesus\nsaid: let me speak to her, and, leaning over her, he whispered in her\near, and soon after we thought it was the wind that stirred the folds of\nher garments, but her limbs were astir in them; the colour came back to\nher cheeks; she raised herself on her bier, and with his bride in his\narms the bridegroom worshipped Jesus as a god; but Jesus reproved him,\nsaying: it was by the power of God working through me that she was\nraised from the dead: give thanks to him who alone merits our thanks.\nBut Rachel, who had been following the bier in great grief, hanging on\nthe bridegroom's arm could not contain herself at the sight of Ruth\nraised from the dead, and it wrenching her reason out of her control\ncompelled her to call upon the people to cast out the Nazarene, who\nworked cures with the help of the demons with whom he was in league,\nwhich proved to everybody that her friendly words to Ruth at the feast\nwere make-believe, and that she had been plotting all the while how she\nmight ruin her.\n\nAt the sight of Ruth beautiful and living naught mattered to Rachel but\nrevenge, and she crossed the street as if with the intention of striking\nher with a dagger, but as she approached Jesus the flame of fury died\nout of her face, and like one overwhelmed with a great love she cast\nherself at his feet, and could not be removed. Why do you turn the woman\nfrom me? he asked. Whatever her sins may have been they are forgiven,\nfor she loves me. But she loved the other man five seconds before, Dan\nsubmitted, and Joseph replying to him said: she only knew that passion\nof the flesh which we share with the beasts of the fields, the fowls of\nthe air and the fish in the sea. But now she loves Jesus as we love\nhim--with the spirit. And next day she brought all her wealth to him;\nthe golden comb she was wont to wear in her hair she would place in his;\nand the silks and linen in which she was wont to clothe herself she laid\nat his service; but he told her to sell all these things and give the\nmoney to the poor. Give to the poor! That is what I hear always, cried\nDan; but if we gave all to the poor we would be as poor as the very\npoorest; and where, then, would the money come from with which we now\nhelp the poor?\n\nGive to the poor that thou mayest become worthy of a place in the world\nto come. This world is but a shadow--an illusion, Joseph answered\ndefiantly. Thou hast that answer for everything, Joseph; and another day\nwhen I'm stronger I'll argue that out with thee. I have tired thee,\nFather; but if I've told you many stories it was because---- Because,\nDan retorted, thou wouldst have Jesus cast his spells over me. But I've\nno use for them; thou art enough.\n\nAnd while Joseph debated how he might convince his father that the girl\nwas really dead, Dan asked for news of Rachel, and Joseph answered that\nshe was with them every day, that their company had been increased by\nseveral devoted women. Thou hast talked enough, Father, and more than\nenough; if Ecanus were to return he would accuse me of planning to talk\nyou to death.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XV.\n\n\nLike every other old Jew, Dan liked the marvellous, and listened to his\nson's stories, not knowing whether he believed or disbelieved, nor\nseeking to inquire; content to enjoy the stories as they went by, he\nlistened, suffering such a little disappointment when his son's voice\nceased as he might at the death of a melodious wind among the branches,\nthe same little sadness. Moreover, while Joseph talked he had his\nattention, and it irritated him to see Joseph's thoughts wander from him\nin search of parrots and monkeys; and he begged his son to tell him\nanother miracle, for he was sure that Joseph had not told him the last\none. Joseph pleaded that there was no use relating miracles to one who\nonly believed in ancient miracles, a statement that Dan combated, saying\nthat one could like a story for its own sake. Like a Gentile, Joseph\ninterposed gaily, bringing all the same a cloud into his father's face,\nwhich he would have liked to disperse with the relation of another\nmiracle, but he continued to plead that he had told all his stories.\nThere was, however, a certain faint-heartedness in his pleading, and Dan\nbecame more certain than ever that his son was holding back a miracle,\nand becoming suddenly curious, he declared that Joseph had no right to\nhold back a story from him, for to do that provoked argument, and\nargument fatigued him.\n\nJoseph thought the device to extort a story from him, which he did not\nwish to tell, a shabby one, but, fearing to vex his father in his\npresent state of health, he began to think it would be better to tell\nhim the miracle he had heard of that morning at Capernaum; but, still\nloath, he tried instead to divert his father's attention from Jesus,\nreminding him of the numerous matters that would have to be settled up\nbetween them, especially Dan's responsibility in the new adventure, the\ntransport of grain from Moab to Jerusalem. Dan's curiosity was not to be\ndiverted, and seeing him give way to his rage like a petulant child,\nJoseph decided that he must tell him, and he began with a disparagement\nof his story, the truth of which he did not vouch for. At Capernaum they\nwere all telling how some two or three weeks ago Jesus heard God\nspeaking within him, and, naming those he wished to accompany him, led\nthem through the woods, up the slow ascending hills in silence, no word\nbeing exchanged between him and them. Every one of the disciples was\naware that the Master was in communion with his Father in heaven, and\nthat his communion was shared by them as long as a word was not spoken.\nA word would break it; and so they journeyed with their eyes set upon\nthe stars or upon the ground, never daring to look for Jesus, who\nremained amongst them for an hour or more and then seemed to them to\npass into shadow, only his voice remaining with them bidding them to\njourney on, which they did, each man in his faith, until they reached a\nlonely hill on the top of which stood a blighted tree. Why, Master, they\nasked, have you led us hither? and, receiving no answer, they looked\nround for Jesus, but he was missing, and, thinking they walked too fast\nand had left him on the road behind them, they returned to the place\nwhere he had last spoken to them; and, not finding him there, they\nreturned to the hill-top, and, seeing him among the white branches\nwaiting for them, they knelt and prayed. When the stars began to grow\ndim they heard a voice cry out: behold he is with you, he who brings\nsalvation to all men, Jew and Gentile; and ye twelve are bidden to carry\nthe joyful tidings to the ends of the earth.\n\nAt these words the disciples rose from their knees and looked round\nastonished, for only four had gone with Jesus up the hillside, but\ntwelve were kneeling at the foot of the tree, and the four that had come\nwith Jesus knew not how the eight were gathered with them, nor could the\neight tell how they reached the hill-top, nor what spirit guided them\nthither. The day is breaking, someone said; and looking towards the\neast they saw innumerable angels and all of them singing hosanna;\nhosannas fell from the skies and blossoms from the tree; for the tree\nwas no longer a blighted but a quickened tree. Jesus was amongst them,\ntalking to them, telling those who were standing around him that they\nwere chosen by his Father in heaven first of all, and then by him, to\ncarry the joyful tidings to the ends of the earth, and they all\nanswered: we heard the words that thou hast spoken, Master. And he\nanswered: ye have heard truly, and I am here to carry out my Father's\nwill; ye shall go forth and bring salvation to all, Jew and Gentile\nalike.\n\nFather, of what art thou thinking--that the twelve slept and dreamed?\nBut before Dan could find an answer to his son's question Joseph sank\naway into regrets that he had acceded to his father's request and told\nhim this last miracle, and that he had not been able to disguise the\nfact, in the telling, that Jesus had chosen as his apostles those who\naccompanied him into the mountains. He intended to omit all mention of\nthis election, but it slipped from him unawares in the excitement of the\ntelling, and now to divert his father's thoughts from the unfortunate\nadmission Joseph called to one of the parrots and spoke cheerfully to\nthe bird, and to the monkey that came hopping across the sward and\njumped into his arms; but Dan knew his son's face too well to be\ndeceived by the poor show Joseph could paint upon it, and guessing that\nhis father divined the truth, words deserted him altogether. He sat\nstriving against regret and hoping that his father did not think he\nloved him less than he loved Jesus. At last something had to be said,\nand Dan could find nothing better to say than: Joseph, there is gloom in\nthy face; but be not afraid to tell me if thou art disappointed that\nthou wert not with Jesus when his Father spoke to him out of heaven, and\nthereby missed being among the apostles. For this suspicion Joseph\nrebuked his father, but as it was his dearest wish to be numbered\namongst the apostles his rebukes were faint, and feeling he was making\nbad worse, he put as bold a face upon it as he could, saying to his\nfather that he would have liked to have been numbered among the twelve,\nbut since it did not befall he was content; and to himself that he was\nyounger than any that were elected, and if one of them were to die he\nwould be called to fill his place.\n\nSo much admission was forced upon him, for it was important that his\nfather should accept his absence from the mountain that day as a\nsufficient reason for his not having been elected an apostle, the real\nreason being, not his absence from the mountain, but the fact that he\nchose to turn aside from Jesus and leave him to attend his father's\nsick-bed. That was the sin he was judged guilty of, an unpardonable act\nin Jesus' mind, and one that discredited Joseph for ever, proving him\nfor good and all to be unworthy to follow Jesus, which might be no more\nthan the truth. He could follow Jesus' way of thinking, apprehending it\nremotely; but to his father, Jesus present teaching, that one must learn\nto hate one's father and one's mother, one's wife and one's children\nbefore one can love God, would be incomprehensible; and he would be\nestranged from Jesus for ever, as many of the disciples had been that\nmorning by such ultra-idealism. It would have been better to have\nwithheld the miracle, he said to himself, and then he lost himself\nthinking how the election of the apostles had dropped from him, for it\nhad nothing to do with the miracle, and then awakening a little from his\nreverie he assured himself that his father must never know, for Dan\ncould never understand Jesus in his extravagant moods. But if some\naccident should bring the knowledge to his father? It wasn't likely that\nthis could happen, for who knew it? Hardly was it known among those whom\nhe had met that morning as he crossed the Plain of Gennesaret. He had\nseen the disciples with Jesus, Jesus walking ahead with Peter and with\nJames and John, to whom he addressed not a word, the others following\nhim shamefacedly at a little distance. One of his black moods is upon\nhim, Joseph said to himself, and gliding in among the crowd he\nquestioned the nearest to him, who happened to be Judas, who told him\nthat Jesus didn't know for certain if he were called to go to Jerusalem\nfor the Feast of the Tabernacles. The Master foresees his death in\nJerusalem, but he is not sure if it be ordained for this year or the\nnext. Peter would dissuade him, he added, and in the midst of his\nwonderment Joseph heard from Judas that Jesus had elected his apostles,\nand now Joseph remembered how, speaking out of his heart, he uttered a\nlittle cry and said: it was because I am a rich man that he didn't think\nof me. But Judas answered that there might be another reason, to which\nhe replied: there can be no other reason except the simple one--I wasn't\nthere and he didn't think of me. But Judas murmured that there might be\nanother reason--he never allows a disciple to desert him, whatever\nreason may be for so doing. But there was no desertion on my part. My\nfather's illness! Wait in any case, Judas had said, till the Master has\nfallen out of his mood, for he is in his blackest now; we dare not speak\nto him. But I couldn't believe that that could make any difference,\nJoseph said to himself, and he put the monkey away from him somewhat\nharshly, and fell to thinking how he ran to Jesus, his story on his\nlips. But it all seemed to drift away from him the moment he looked upon\nJesus, so changed was he from the Jesus he had seen in the cenoby, a\nyoung man of somewhat stern countenance and cold and thin, with the neck\nerect, walking with a measured gait, whose eyes were cold and distant,\nthough they could descend from their starry heights and rest for a\nmoment almost affectionately on the face of a mortal. That was two years\nago. And the Jesus whom he met in rags by the lake-side one evening and\njourneyed with as far as C\u00e6sarea Philippi, to Tyre and Sidon, was no\ndoubt very different from the severe young man he had seen in the\nmonastery. He had grown older, more careworn, but the first Jesus still\nlingered in the second, whereas the Jesus he was looking at now was a\nnew Jesus, one whom he had seen never before; the cheeks were fallen in\nand the eyes that he remembered soft and luminous were now concentrated;\na sort of malignant hate glowered in them: he seemed to hate all he\nlooked upon; and his features seemed to have enlarged, the nose and chin\nwere more prominent, and the body was shrunken. A sword that is wearing\nout its scabbard was the thought that passed through Joseph's frightened\nmind; and frightened at the change in Jesus' appearance, and still more\nby the words that were hurled out at him, when intimidated and\ntrembling, he babbled out: my father lay between life and death for\neight days and came out of his swoon slowly. He could say no more, the\nrest of his story was swallowed up in a violent interruption, Jesus\ntelling him that there was no place among his followers for those who\ncould not free themselves from such ghosts as father, mother and\nchildren and wife.\n\nJesus had flung his father's wealth and his own in his face, and his own\npitiful understanding that had not been able to see that this world and\nthe world to come were not one thing but twain. And whosoever chooses\nthis world must remain satisfied with its fleshly indulgences and its\ncares and its laws and responsibilities, and whoso ever chooses the\nKingdom of Heaven must cast this world far from him, must pluck it, as\nit were, out of his heart and throw it away, bidding it depart; for it\nis but a ghost. All these, he said, pointing to his apostles, have cast\ntheir ghosts into the lake. The apostles stood with eyes fixed, for they\ndid not understand how they had despoiled themselves of their ghosts,\nand only Peter ventured into words: all my family is in the lake,\nMaster; and at his simplicity Jesus smiled, then as if to compensate\nhim for his faith he said: I shall come in a chariot sitting on the\nright hand of our Father, the Judgment Book upon my lap. As the rocks of\nthis world are shaken and riven by earthquakes, my words shall sunder\nfather from son, brother from brother, daughter from mother; the ties\nthat have been held sacred shall be broken and all the things looked\nupon as eternal shall pass away even as the Temple of Jerusalem shall\npass away. My words shall sunder it Beam by beam, pillar by pillar, and\nevery stone of it shall be scattered. For I say unto you that God is\nweary of the fat of rams and goats, and incense delights his nostrils;\nit is not our flocks and herds that our Father desires nor the\nsweet-smelling herbs of this world, but a temple in which there shall be\nnothing but the love of God. It is for the building of this temple that\nI have been called hither; and not with hands during laborious years\nwill it be built, but at once, for the temple that I speak to you of, is\nin the heart of every man; and woe, woe, woe, I say unto you who delay\nto build this temple, for the fulfilment of the prophecies is at hand,\nand when the last day of this world begins to dawn and the dead rise up\nseeking their cere-clothes it will be too late. Woe! woe! woe! unto\nthee, Chorazin, Bethsaida and Magdala, for you have not repented yet,\nbut still choose the ghosts that haunt the sepulchres out of which ye\nshall be called soon; too soon for many; for I say unto you that it is\nnot the dead that sleep but the living. At these words there were\nmurmurings among the disciples, and they said, turning from one to the\nother: he says we sleep, brother, but this is not true. He mocks at us.\nBut Jesus, as if he did not hear these rebukers, and moved as if by a\nsudden sympathy for Joseph, said: here is one that left me to attend\nhis father's sick-bed, but I would have you understand me in this, that\nif we would love God we must abandon father, mother, wife and children,\nfor there is not room in our hearts for two loves. Ye say that I lay\nheavy burdens on your backs, but I say unto you that I lay no burdens on\nyour backs that I did not first weigh upon my own shoulders; for have I\nnot denied myself brothers and sisters, and did I not say to my mother,\nwho came to dissuade me: God chose thee as a vehicle to give to man a\nredeemer to lead him out of this kingdom of clay. Thou hast done it and\nso there is no further need of thee. Out of this corruptible body I\nshall rise in Jerusalem, my mission accomplished, into the incorruptible\nspirit. His passion rising again and into flood, he seemed like one\nbereft of reason, for he said that all men must drink of his blood if\nthey would live for ever. He who licked up one drop would have\neverlasting life. Joseph recalled the murmurings that followed these\nwords, but Jesus would not desist. These murmurings seemed to sting him\nto declare his doctrine to the full, and he added that his flesh, too,\nwas like bread, and that any crumb would give to him who ate it a place\nbefore the throne of the Almighty. Whereupon many withdrew, murmuring\nmore loudly than before, saying among themselves: who is this man that\nasks us to assuage our thirst with his blood and our hunger with his\nflesh? Moses and Elijah did not ask such things. Who is he that says he\nwill scatter the Temple to build up another?\n\nMany other animadversions Joseph remembered among the multitude, and he\nrecalled them one by one, pondering over each till one of the monkeys\nsprang into his arms and snatched some flowers out of his hand and\nhobbled away shrieking, awaking Dan, who had been dozing, and who,\nseeing whence the shrieking came, closed his eyes again. While his\nfather slept Joseph remembered that Peter, John and James stood by the\nMaster throughout the dissidence. But what answer will they give, Joseph\nasked himself, when they are questioned as to what the Master meant when\nhe said that they must drink his blood and eat his flesh? What answer\nwill they make when the people question them in the different\ncountries?--for they are to go to every part of the world, carrying the\njoyful tidings. It seemed to Joseph that the apostles would be able to\nmake plain these hard sayings even less well than he, and he could not\nmake plain to anybody what the Master had meant, and still less would he\nbe able to convince others that the Master had said well that a man must\nleave his father though he were dying. He said that he should leave his\nfather unburied, the dead not needing our care, for they are the living\nones, and the hyenas and crows would find to eat only that which had\nalways been dead. Of course if the old world were going out and the new\ncoming in, it mattered very little what happened within the next\ntwenty-four hours. But was the new world as near as that? He wondered!\nIt might be nearer still without his being able to leave his father to\ndie among strangers, and a feeling rose up within him that he knew he\nwould never be able to subdue though he were to gain an eternity of\nhappiness by subduing it; and, pursuing this thread of thought, he came\nto the conclusion that he was a very weak creature, neither sufficiently\nenamoured of this world nor of the next; so he supposed Jesus was right\nto discard him, for, as he knew himself, he would be an insufficient\napostle, just as he was an insufficient son. But his father did not\nthink him a bad son. He raised his eyes, and, finding his father's eyes\nupon him, he remembered that he had left him because he wished to see\nthe world, to go to Jerusalem, to live with the Essenes, to go to Egypt;\nand that he had remained away for nearly two years, and had returned to\nsettle a business matter between himself and his father. Therefore it\nwas not love of his father but a business matter that brought him back\nfrom Egypt; and now he was going to leave his father again, though he\nknew that his father wished him to marry some lusty girl, who would bear\nhealthy children.\n\nIf he were a good son he would take a maid to bed. But that he couldn't\ndo! I am afraid, he said, speaking suddenly out of his thoughts, I'm not\nthe son you deserve, Father. I'm not a bad son, but I'm not the son God\nshould have given you. Thou shouldst not say that, Joseph, for we have\nloved each other dearly. It is true that I hoped to see little children\nabout me, and it may be that hope will never be fulfilled, which is sad\nto think on. I've never seen thee over-busy with one of our serving\ngirls, nor caught thee near her bed, and the family will end with, thee,\nand the counting-house will end with me, and these things will happen\nthrough no fault of mine or thine, Joseph. Our lives are not planned by\nourselves, and when life comes sweetly to a man a bitter death awaits\nhim, for death is bitter to those that have lived in ease and health as\nI have done. I am still obdurate, for I can sit down to a meal with\npleasure, but a time will come when I shall not be able to do this, and\nthen the sentence that the Lord pronounced over all flesh will seem easy\nto bear, and the grandchildren I have not gotten will be desired no\nlonger; only the peace of the grave, where there is no questioning nor\ndainties. But, Father, this world is but the shadow of a reality beyond\nthe grave, and I beseech you to believe in your eternity and in mine. In\nthe eternity of my body or of my soul--which, Joseph? Thou knowest not,\nbut of this we are sure, that there is little time left for me to love\nyou in this comfortable land of Galilee. And, this being so, I will ask\nyou to promise me that thou wilt not leave Judea in my lifetime. Thou'lt\nhave to go to Jerusalem, for business awaits you there, and to Jericho,\nperhaps, which is a long way from Galilee, but I'd not have thee leave\nJudea to preach a strange creed to the Gentiles. I know no reason now,\nFather, for me to leave Judea, since I am not among the chosen. If thou\nhadst been, Joseph, thou wouldst not have left me in these last years of\nmy life? Jesus is dear to thee, but he isn't thy father, and every\nfather would like his son to be by him when the Lord chooses to call\nhim. I would have thee within a day's journey or two; death comes\nquicker than that sometimes, but we must risk something. I'd have thee\nremain in Judea so that thou mayest come, if thou art called, to receive\nmy last blessing. I'd have thee close my eyes, Joseph. The children I'll\nforgive thee, if thou wilt promise me this. I promise it, Father, and\nwill hold to my promise if I live beyond thee. If thou livest beyond me,\nJoseph? Of course thou wilt live many years after me. But, Joseph, I\nwould have thee shun dangerous company. And guessing that his father had\nJesus in his mind, Joseph asked him if it were so, and he answered that\nit was so, saying that Jesus was no new thing in Judea, and that the\npriests and the prophets have ever been in strife. That is my meaning,\nhe said. The exactions of the priests weigh heavily, and Jesus is right\nin this much, that priests always have been, and perhaps always will be,\noppressors of the poor; they are strong, and have many hirelings about\nthem. Thou hast heard of the Zealots, Son, who walk in the streets of\nJerusalem, their hands on their knives, following those who speak\nagainst the law and the traditions, and who, when they meet them, put\ntheir knives into their ribs, and when the murdered man falls back into\ntheir arms call aloud for help? So do the priests free themselves from\ntheir opponents, and, my good son, Joseph, think what my grief would be\nif I were to receive tidings that thou hadst been slain in the streets.\nDost think that the news would not slay me as quickly as any knife? I\nask little of thee, Joseph, the children I'll forgo, but do thou\nseparate thyself from these sectaries during my lifetime. Think of me\nreceiving the news of thy death; an old man living alone among all his\nriches without hope of any inheritance of his name. But, Joseph, I can't\nput away altogether the hope that the day will come when thou'lt look\nmore favourably on a maid than now. Thy thoughts be all for Jesus, his\nteaching, and his return to this world, sitting by the side of his\nFather in a fiery chariot, but maybe the day will come when these hopes\nwill fade away and thy eyes will rest upon a maid. It is strange that\nthou shouldst be so unlike me. I was warmer-blooded at thy age, and when\nI saw thy mother----Father, the promise is given to thee already, and my\nhand upon it. I'll not see Jesus during thy life. If the sudden news of\nmy death were to kill thee, I should be thy murderer. Jesus will forgive\nthee these few years, Dan said. The expression on Joseph's face changed,\nand Dan wondered if Jesus were so cruel, so hard, and so self-centred\nthat he would not grant his son a few years, if he were to ask it, so\nthat he might stay by his father's bedside and close his eyes and bury\nhim. It seemed from Joseph's face that Jesus asked everything from his\ndisciples, and if they did not give everything it was as if they gave\nnothing.\n\nAnd while Dan was thus conferring with his own thoughts he heard Joseph\nsaying that if he were to keep the promise he had just given, not to see\nJesus again, he must not remain in his neighbourhood. Yes, that is so,\nJoseph; go to Jerusalem. And the old man began to babble of the\ntransport of figs from Jericho, till Joseph could not do else than\nponder on the grip of habit on a man's heart, and ask himself if the\nnews of his death would affect his father's health more than the news\nthat there was no further demand in Damascus for his salt fish. He\nrepented the thought as soon as it had passed through his mind, and he\nunderstood that, however much it would cost him, he must go away to\nJerusalem. He dared not risk the accusation that would for ever echo in\nhis heart: my father has no peace by day, nor rest at night, he is\nthinking always that a Zealot's knife is in my back. But after my\nfather's death--His thoughts brought him back again to a sudden shame of\nhimself. I am like that, he said, and shall always be as I am. And, not\ndaring to think of himself any more, he jumped to his feet: I must tell\nmy servant that I shall start soon after daybreak.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XVI.\n\n\nAnd on his arrival in Jerusalem Joseph stood for a moment before his\ncamel thanking the beast for his great, rocking stride, which has given\nme, he said, respite from thinking for two whole days and part of two\nnights. But I cannot be always on the back of a camel, he continued, and\nmust now rely on my business to help me to forget; and he strove to\napply his mind to every count that came before him, but in the middle of\nevery one his thoughts would fly away to Galilee, and the merchant\nwaiting to receive the provisions he had come to fetch wondered of what\nthe young man was thinking, and the cause of the melancholy that was in\nhis face.\n\nHe was still less master of his thoughts when he sat alone, his ledger\nbefore him; and finding he could not add up the figures, he would\nabandon himself without restraint to his grief; and very often it was so\ndeep that when the clerk opened the door it took Joseph some moments to\nremember that he was in his counting-house; and when the clerk spoke of\nthe camel-drivers that were waiting in the yard behind the\ncounting-house for orders, it was only by an effort of will that he\ncollected his thoughts sufficiently to realise that the yard was still\nthere, and that a caravan was waiting for orders to return to Jericho.\nThe orders were forgotten on the way to the yard, and the clerk had to\nremind him, and sometimes to say: Master, if you'll allow me, I will\nsettle this business for you.\n\nJoseph was glad of his clerk's help, and he returned to the ledger, and,\nstaring at figures which he did not see, he sat thinking of Jesus, of\nthe night they walked by the lake's edge, of the day spent in the woods\nabove Capernaum, and the various towns of Syria that they visited. It\nseemed to him that the good days had gone over for ever, and it was but\na sad pleasure to remember the pagans that liked Jesus' miracles without\nbeing able to abandon their own gods. Only Peter could bring a smile\ninto his face; a smile wandered round his lips, for it was impossible to\nthink of Peter and not to smile. But the smile faded quickly and the old\npain gripped his heart.\n\nI have lost Jesus for ever, he said, and at that moment a sudden rap at\nhis door awoke him from his reveries. He was angry with his clerk, but\nhe tried to disguise his anger, for he was conscious that he must\npresent a very ridiculous appearance to his clerk, unless, indeed, which\nwas quite likely, his clerk was indifferent to anything but the business\nof the counting-house. Be this as it may, he was an old and confidential\nservant who made no comments and asked no questions. Joseph was\ngrateful to his clerk for his assumed ignorance and an hour later Joseph\nbade him good-night. I shall see thee in the morning, to which Samuel\nanswered: yes, sir; and Joseph was left alone in the crowded street of\nJerusalem, staring at the passengers as they went, wondering if they\nwere realities, everyone compelled by a business or a desire, or merely\nshadows, figments of his imagination and himself no more than a shadow,\na something that moved and that must move across the valley of\nJehoshaphat and up the Mount of Olives. Why that way more than any other\nway? he asked himself: because it is the shortest way. As if that\nmattered, he added, and as soon as he reached the top of the Mount of\nOlives he looked over the desert and was surprised by the smallness of\nthe hills; like the people who lived among them, they seemed to him to\nhave dwindled. The world is much smaller than I thought, he said. That\nis it, the world seems to have dwindled into a sort of ash-heap; life\nhas become as tasteless as ashes. It can only end, he said to himself,\nby my discovering something that interests me, but nothing interests me\nexcept Jesus. Lack of desire, he said, is my burden, for, desiring one\nthing too much, I have lost desire for all else, and that is why life\nhas come to me like an ash-heap.\n\nAs the days went by he began to feel life more oppressive and\nunendurable, till one evening the thought crossed his mind that change\nof scene might be a great benefit to him. If he were to go to Egypt, he\nwould journey for fifteen days through the desert, the rocking stride of\nthe camel would keep him from thinking, and he might arrive in Egypt\neager to listen to the philosophers again. But the temptations that\nEgypt presented faded almost as soon as they had arisen, and he deemed\nthat it might be better for him to choose a city oversea. A sea voyage,\nhe thought, will cheer me more than a long journey across the desert,\nand Joppa is but a day's journey from Jerusalem. But the shipping is\nmore frequent from C\u00e6sarea, and it is not as far; and for a moment it\nseemed to him that he would like to be on board a ship watching the\nwind making the sail beautiful. But to what port should he be making\nfor? he asked. Why not to Greece?--for there are philosophers as great\nor greater than those of Alexandria. But philosophers are out of my\nhumour, he added, and, putting Athens aside, he bethought himself of\nCorinth, and the variegated world he would meet there. From every port\nships come to Corinth, bringing different habits, customs, languages,\nreligions; and for the better part of the evening Corinth seemed to be\nhis destination.\n\nCorinth was famous for its courtesans, and he remembered suddenly that\nthe most celebrated were collected there; and it may have been the\ncourtesans that kept him from this journey, and his thoughts turning\nfrom vice to marriage a bitterness rose up in his mind against his\nfather for the persistency with which Dan reminded him in and out of\nseason that every man's duty is to bring children into the world.\n\nIt had seemed to him that in asking him to take a wife to his discomfort\nhis father was asking him too much, and he had put the question aside;\nbut he was now without will to resist any memory that might befall him,\nand for the first time he allowed his thoughts to dwell on his father's\nimplied regret that he had never caught his son near a servant girl's\nbed. His unwillingness to impugn his father's opinions kept him\nheretofore from pondering on his words, but feeling his life to be now\nbroken and cast away, there seemed to arise some reasons for an\nexamination of his father's words. They could not mean anything else\nthan that a young man was following the natural instincts if he lingered\nabout a young girl's room; and that to be without this instinct was\nalmost a worse misfortune than to be possessed by it to the practical\nexclusion of other interests.\n\nHis father, it is true, may have argued the matter out with himself\nsomewhat in this fashion: that love of women in a man may be controlled;\nand looking back into his own life he may have found this view\nconfirmed. Joseph remembered that his grandmother often spoke to him of\nDan's great love of his wife, and it might be that he had never loved\nanother woman; few men, however, were as fortunate as his father, and\nJoseph could not help thinking that it were better to put women out of\nhis mind altogether than to become inflamed by the sight of every woman.\nHe believed that was why he had always kept all thoughts of women out of\nhis mind; but it seemed to him now that a wife would break the monotony\nthat he saw in front of him, and were he to meet a woman such as his\nfather seems to have met he might take her to live with him. He thought\nof himself as her husband, though he was by no means sure that married\nlife was a possible makeshift for the life he sought and was obliged to\nforgo, but as life seemed an obligation from which he could not\nreasonably escape he thought he would like to share it with some woman\nwho would give him children. His father desired grandchildren, and since\nhe had partly sacrificed his life for his father's sake, he might, it\nseemed to him, sacrifice himself wholly. But could he? That did not\ndepend altogether on himself, and with the view to discovering the turn\nof his sex instinct he called to mind all the women he had seen, asking\nhimself as each rose up before him if he could marry her. There were\nsome that seemed nearer to his desire than others, and it was with the\nview to honourable marriage that he called upon his friends, and his\nfather's friends, and passed his eyes over all their daughters; but the\ngirl whose image had lingered more pleasantly than any other in his\nmemory had married lately, and all the others inspired only a physical\naversion which he felt none would succeed in overcoming. He had seen\nsome Greek women, and been attracted in a way, for they were not too\nlike their sex; but these Jewish women--the women of his race--seemed to\nhim as gross in their minds as in their bodies, and it surprised him to\nfind that though many men seemed to think as he did about these women,\nthey were not repelled as he was, but accepted them willingly, even\ngreedily, as instruments of pleasure and afterwards as mothers of\nchildren. But I am not as these men are, he said; my father must bear\nhis sorrow like another; and in meditation it seemed to him that it\nwould not be reasonable that his father should get everything he desired\nand his son nothing.\n\nHis father had gotten more out of life than ever he should get; he would\nhave his son till he died (so far as he could he would secure him that\nsatisfaction), and after death this world and its shows concern us not.\nBut it may well be that we die out of one life to be born into another\nlife, that everything that passes is replaced by an equivalent, he said,\nrepeating the words of a Greek philosopher to whom he had been much\naddicted in happy days gone by, and that reality is but an eternal\nshaping and reshaping of things. All that is beyond doubt, he continued,\nis that things pass too quickly for us to have any certain knowledge of\nthem, our only standard being our own flitting impressions; and as all\nmen bring a different sensitiveness into the world, knowledge is a word\nwithout meaning, for there can be no knowledge. Every race is possessed\nof a different sensitiveness, he said, as he passed up the Mount of\nOlives on his way home. We ask for miracles, but the Greeks are\nsatisfied with reason. Am I Greek or Jew? he asked, for he was looking\nforward to some silent hours with a book of Greek philosophy and hoped\nto forget himself in the manuscript. But he could not always keep his\nthoughts on the manuscript, and, forgetful of Heraclitus, he often sat\nthinking of Jesus' promise--that one morning men would awake to find\nthat God had come to judge the world and divide it among those that\nrepented their sins. He remembered he had forfeited his share in the\nKingdom for his father's sake, or had he been driven out of the\ncommunity because his belief in the coming of the Kingdom was\ninsufficient? It is true that his belief had wavered, but he had always\nbelieved. Even his natural humility, of which he was conscious, did not\nallow him to doubt that his belief in Jesus was less fervid than that of\nPeter, James, John and the residue. The conviction was always quick in\nhim that he felt more deeply than these publicans and fishers, yet Jesus\nretained them and sent him away.\n\nThe manuscript glided from his hand to the floor, and his thoughts\nwandered back to Alexandria, and he sat thinking that death must be\nrather the beginning than the end of things, for it were impossible to\nbelieve that life was an end in itself. Heraclitus was right: his\npresent life could be nothing else but the death of another life. And as\nif to enforce this doctrine a recollection of his grandmother intruded\nupon his meditation. She was seventy-eight when she died, and her\nintellect must have faded some months before, but with her passing one\nof the servants told him that a curious expression came into her face--a\nsort of mocking expression, as if she had learnt the truth at last and\nwas laughing at the dupes she left behind. She lay in a grave in\nGalilee, under some pleasant trees, and while thinking of her grave it\noccurred to him that he would not like to be put into the earth; his\nfancy favoured a tomb cut out of the rocks in Mount Scropas, for there,\nhe said to himself, I shall be far from the Scribes and Pharisees, and\ngoing out on the terrace he stood under the cedars and watched for an\nhour the outlines of the humped hills that God had driven in endless\ndisorder, like herds of cattle, all the way to Jericho, thinking all the\nwhile that it would be pleasant to lie out of hearing of all the silly\nhurly-burly that we call life. But the hurly-burly would not be silly if\nJesus were by him, and he asked himself if Jesus was an illusion like\nall the rest, and as soon as the pain the question provoked had died\naway, his desire of a tomb took possession of him again, and it left him\nno peace, but led him out of the house every evening, up a zigzagging\npath along the hillside till he came to some rocks over against the\ndesert. I shall lie in quiet here till he calls me, on a couch embedded\nin the wall and surmounted by an arch--but if he should prefer me to\nrise out of an humble grave? That I may not know, only that the poorest\nis not as unhappy as I, so I may as well have a tomb to my liking.\n\nIt was a long time since he had come to a resolve, and having come to\none at last, he was happier. And in more cheerful mood he decided that\nnow that the site was settled it would be well to seek information as to\nwhich are the best workmen to employ on the job.\n\nBut for him whose thoughts run on death nothing is harder to settle than\nwhere his bones shall lie; and next time he visited the hillside Joseph\ncame upon rocks facing eastward, and it seemed to him that the rays of\nthe rising sun should fall on his sepulchre; but a few days later,\ncoming out of his house in great disquiet, it seemed to him he would lie\nhappy if his tomb were visited every evening by the peaceful rays of the\nsetting sun, and he asked himself how many years of life he would have\nto drag through before God released him from his prison. If he wished\nto die he could, for our lives are in our own hands. But he did not know\nthat he cared to die and, overpowered with grief, he abandoned himself\nto metaphysical speculation, asking himself again if it were not true\nthat to be born into this world meant to pass out of one life into\nanother; therefore, if so, to die in this world only meant to pass into\nanother, a life unknown to us, for all is unknown--nothing being fixed\nor permanent. We cannot bathe twice in the same river, so Heraclitus\nsaid, but we cannot bathe even once in the same river, he added; and to\ncarry the master's thought a stage further was a pleasure, if any moment\nof his present life could be called pleasurable. He heard these sayings\nfirst in Alexandria, and, looking towards Jerusalem, he tried to recall\nthe exact words of the sage regarding the futility of sacrifice. Our\npriests try, said Heraclitus, to purify themselves with blood and we\nadmire them, but if a filthy man were to roll himself in the mud in the\nhope of cleaning himself we should think he was mad. In some such wise\nHeraclitus spoke, but it seemed to Joseph he had lost something of the\nspirit of the saying in too profuse wording of it. As he sought for the\noriginal epitome he heard his name called, and awaking from his\nrecollections of Alexandria he looked up and saw before him a young man\nwhom he remembered having seen at the Sanhedrin. Nicodemus was his name;\nand he remembered how the fellow had kept his eyes on him for one whole\nevening, trying at various times to engage him in talk; an insistent\nfellow who, despite rebuffs, had followed him into the street after the\nmeeting, and, refusing to be shaken off, had led the way so skilfully\nthat Joseph found himself at last on Nicodemus' doorstep and with no\noption but to accept Nicodemus' invitation to enter. He did not like the\nfellow, but not on account of his insistence; it was not his insistence\nthat had prejudiced him against him as much as the young man's\nelaboration of raiment, his hairdressing above all; he wore curls on\neither side that must have taken his barber a long while to prepare, and\nhe exhaled scents. He wore bracelets, and from his appearance Joseph had\nnot been able to refrain from imagining lascivious pictures on the walls\nof his house and statues in the corners of the rooms--in a word, he\nthought he had been persuaded to enter an ultra-Greek house.\n\nIn this he was, however, mistaken, and in the hour they spent together\nhis host's thoughts were much less occupied than Joseph expected them to\nbe with the jewels on his neck and his wrists, and the rich tassels on\nhis sash. He talked of many things, but his real thoughts were upon\narms; and he showed Joseph scimitars and daggers. Despite a long\ndiscussion on the steel of Damascus, Joseph could not bring himself to\nbelieve that Nicodemus' interests in heroic warfare were more than\nintellectual caprice: and he regarded as entirely superficial Nicodemus'\nattacks on the present-day Jews, whose sloth and indolence he reproved,\nsaying that they had left the heroic spirit brought out of Arabia with\ntheir language, on the banks of the Euphrates. One hero, he admitted,\nthey had produced in modern times (Judas Maccabeus), and Joseph heard\nfor the first time that this great man always had addressed his soldiers\nin Hebrew. All the same he did not believe that Nicodemus was serious in\nhis passionate demands for the Hebrew language, which had not been\nspoken since the Jews emerged from the pastoral stage. We should do\nwell, Nicodemus said, to engage others to look to our flocks and herds,\nso that we may have leisure to ponder the texts of Talmud, nor do I\nhesitate to condemn my own class, the Sadducees, as the least worthy of\nall; for we look upon the Temple as a means of wealth, despising the\npoor people, who pay their half-shekel and bring their rams and their\ngoats and bullocks hither.\n\nHe could talk for a long time in this way, his eyes abstracted from\nJoseph, fixed on the darkness of the room. While listening to him Joseph\nhad often asked himself if there were a real inspiration behind that\nlean face, carven like a marble, with prominent nose and fading chin, or\nif he were a mere buffoon.\n\nHe succeeded in provoking a casual curiosity in Joseph, but he had not\ninfected Joseph with any desire of his acquaintance; his visits to the\ncounting-house had not been returned. Yet this meeting on the hillside\nwas not altogether unwelcome, and Joseph, to his surprise, surveyed the\nyoung man's ringlets and bracelets with consideration; he admired his\nmany weapons, and listened to him with interest. He talked well, telling\nthat the sword that hung from his thigh was from Damascus and\nrecommending a merchant to Joseph who could be trusted to discover as\nfine a one for him. It was not wise to go about this lonely hillside\nunarmed, and Joseph was moved to ask him to draw the sword from its\nscabbard, which Nicodemus was only too glad to do, calling Joseph's\nattention to the beautiful engraving on the blade, and to the hilt\nstudded with jewels. He drew a dagger from his jacket, a hardly less\ncostly weapon, and Joseph was too abashed to speak of his buckler on his\nleft arm and the spear that he held in his right hand. But, nothing\nloath, Nicodemus bubbled into explanation. It was part of his project to\nremind his fellow-countrymen that they too must arm themselves if they\never wished to throw off the Roman yoke.\n\nSo long as the Romans substitute a Hebrew word or letter for the head of\nTiberius on the coin we pay the tribute willingly, he said as they\nfollowed the crooked path through the rocks up the hillside towards\nJoseph's house. And in reply to Joseph, who asked him if he believed in\nthe coming end of the world, he answered that he did, but he interpreted\nthe coming end of the world to mean the freeing of the people of Israel\nfrom the Roman yoke, astonishing Joseph by the vigour of his reply; for\nJoseph was not yet sure which was the truer part of this young man, the\nringlets and the bracelets or the shield and the spear.\n\nHe was partial to long silences; and the next of these was so long that\nJoseph had begun to wonder, but when they reached the crest of the hill\nhe burst into speech like a bird into song, asking what was happening in\nGalilee, avouching much interest in Jesus, whom he had heard of, but had\nnever seen. Joseph, guessing that it was to obtain news of Jesus that\nNicodemus sought him on the hillside, told him that he had not spoken of\nJesus for many weeks, and found a sudden relief in relating all he knew\nabout him: how Jesus said that father, mother, brother and sister must\nbe abandoned. Yes, he had said, we must look upon all sacrifice as\nnaught if we would obtain our ancient kingdom and language. But the\nEssenes have never spoken like that, Nicodemus urged: he is not an\nEssene, nor Moses, nor Elijah, nor Jeremiah. He is none of these: he is\nJudas Maccabeus come to life again: and henceforth I shall look upon\nmyself as his disciple.\n\nHe spoke so loudly that any passer-by might have caught up his words;\nand there was danger from Joseph's servants, for they were now standing\nby his gate. He looked round uneasily, and as Nicodemus showed no signs\nof taking leave of him, he thought it would be more prudent to ask him\ninto the house, warning him, however, that he had no beautiful things to\nshow him in the way of engraved weapons, swords from Damascus or daggers\nfrom Circassia. It was not, however, to see beautiful weapons that\nNicodemus inclined; only so far as they related to Jesus was he\ninterested in arms; and he besought Joseph to tell him more of Jesus,\nwhom he seemed to have already accepted as the leader of a revolt\nagainst the Romans. But Joseph, who had begun to fear the young man,\nprotested that Jesus' Kingdom was not of this earth, thinking thereby to\ndiscredit Jesus in Nicodemus' eyes. Nicodemus was not to be put off so\neasily: the Jews spoke of the Kingdom of Heaven so that they might gain\nthe kingdom of earth. A method not very remarkable for its success,\nJoseph interposed. The Romans do otherwise, never thinking about the\nKingdom of Heaven, but only of riches and vainglory, whereas Jesus, he\nsaid, says it is as hard for the rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven\nas it would be for a sword to pass through the eye of a needle. A sword\nthrough the eye of a needle, Nicodemus repeated, walking up and down the\nfloor, stamping his lance as he went. He is the leader we have been\nwaiting for. But it is not always thus that he speaks, Joseph\ninterposed, I have heard him myself say: it is as hard for a rich man to\nenter heaven as it would be for a cow to calve in a rook's nest. As he\nwent to and fro Nicodemus muttered: there is much to be said for this\nrevision of his words. Jesus wishes to reach the imagination of the poor\nthat know not swords. And he spoke for a long time of the indolence of\nthe rich, of their gross pleasures and sensual indulgences. But we must\ngive them swords, he added under his breath, as if he were speaking for\nhimself alone and did not wish Joseph to hear, and then, awaking from\nhis reverie, he turned to his host: tell me more of this remarkable man.\nAnd Joseph, who was now a little amused at his guest's extravagances,\nasked him if he knew the answer he had given to Antipas, who had invited\nhim to his court in Tiberias in consequence of the renown of his\nmiracles. Wishing to witness some exhibition of his skill, Antipas\nseated himself in imperial fashion on his highest throne, and, drawing\nhis finest embroideries about him, asked Jesus if he had seen anybody\nattired so beautifully before, to which Jesus, who stood between two\nsoldiers, a beggar in rags, before the king, replied: I have indeed;\npheasants and peacocks, for nature apparelled them. Neither Moses nor\nElijah nor Jeremiah, Nicodemus declared, could have invented a reply\nmore apt. He asked Joseph if any further doubt lingered in his mind that\nJesus was the prophet promised to the Jews. How I envy thy intercourse\nwith him, he cried. How I envy thee, for thou art the friend of him that\nwill overthrow the Romans.\n\nOverthrow the Romans! Joseph repeated to himself, and as soon as his\nguest had left his house he was brought to a presentiment of the danger\nhe incurred in allowing this man to come to his house: a young man who\nwalked about extravagantly armed would, sooner or later, find himself\nhaled before Pilate. Joseph felt that it would be better to refuse to\nsee him if he called at the counting-house: an excuse could be found\neasily: his foreman might say: Master is away in Jericho. But when\nNicodemus called a few weeks afterwards Joseph was constrained to tell\nhis foreman to tell Nicodemus that he would see him. The truth was,\nJoseph was glad of an interruption, for his business was boring him more\nthan it did usually, but he liked to pretend to himself that he could\nnot escape from Nicodemus.\n\nA new opinion of Nicodemus began to shape itself in his mind when\nNicodemus said that many and many a year will have to pass before that\ncan be done with success, and the Roman rule is so light that the people\nfeel it not. It saves us from quarrels among ourselves, and who have\nquarrelled as bitterly as we have done? Joseph's heart softened at this\nappreciation of the Jewish people, and they began to talk in sympathy\nfor the first time, and it was a pleasure to find themselves in this\nagreement, that before the Jews could conquer the Romans they would have\nto conquer themselves. He is more cautious than I thought for, Joseph\nmuttered as he returned to his camel-drivers, for his guest had departed\nsuddenly without giving any reason for his visitation. A spy he cannot\nbe, Joseph said to himself. I stand too well with Pilate to be suspected\nof schemes of mutiny. But he will soon come under the notice of Pilate;\nand Joseph was not surprised when Pilate asked him if he knew an\nextravagantly dressed young man, Nicodemus by name. Joseph replied that\nhe did, giving Pilate to understand that Nicodemus was no more than one\nof the many eccentrics to be found in every city, with a taste for the\nbeauty of engraved swords, and little for the use of these weapons; and\nPilate, who seemed to be of the same opinion himself, suddenly asked him\nif he had ever met in Galilee one named Jesus. Jesus from Nazareth,\nPilate said; and Joseph watched the tall, handsome, pompous Roman, one\nof those intelligently stupid men of which there are so many about. He\narrived, Pilate continued, in Jerusalem yesterday with a number of\nGalileans, all talking of the resurrection, and news has just reached me\nthat he had been preaching in the Temple, creating some disturbance,\nwhich will, I hope, not be repeated, for disturbances in the Temple lead\nto disturbances in the streets. Does your father know this new prophet?\nAs Joseph was about to answer one of Pilate's apparitors entered\nsuddenly with papers that demanded the procurator's attention. We will\ntalk over this on another occasion, Pilate said as he bent over the\npapers, and Joseph went out muttering: so he has come, so he has come to\nJerusalem at last.\n\nAt any moment he might meet Jesus, and to stop to speak to him in the\nstreet would, in a sense, involve a profanation of his oath to his\nfather; and he knew he could not turn aside from Jesus. He must\ntherefore refrain from going up to Jerusalem and transact his business\nfrom his house by means of messengers. But if Pilate were to send for\nhim? We cannot altogether avoid risk, he said to himself. I can do no\nmore than remain within doors.\n\nIt was not many days afterwards that one of his servants came suddenly\ninto the room. Nicodemus, Sir, is waiting in the hall and would see you,\nthough I told him you were engaged with business. He says the matter on\nwhich he is come to speak to you is important. Well, then, let me see\nhim, Joseph answered.\n\nNow, what has happened? he asked. Has he said anything that the\nSanhedrin will be able to punish him for? He threw some more olive roots\non the fire and told the servant to bring a lamp. A lamp, he said, will\nbe welcome, for this grey dusk is disheartening.\n\nThe weather is cold, so draw your chair near to the fire. I am glad to\nsee you. The men waited for the servant to leave the room. We shall be\nmore comfortable when the curtains are drawn. The lamp, I see, is\nbeginning to burn up.... Nicodemus sat grave and hieratic, thin and\ntall, in the high chair, and the gloom on his face was so immovable that\nJoseph wasted no words. What has fallen out? he said, and Nicodemus\nasked him if he knew Phinehas, the great money-changer in the Temple.\nJoseph nodded, and, holding his hands before the fire, Nicodemus told\nhis story very slowly, exasperating Joseph by his slowness; but he did\nnot dare to bid him to hasten, and, holding himself in patience, he\nlistened to him while he told that Phinehas was perhaps the worst of the\nextorters, the most noisy and arrogant, a vicious and quarrelsome man,\nwho, yester-morning, was engaged with a rich Alexandrian Jew, Shamhuth,\nwho had lately arrived from Alexandria and was buying oxen, rams and\newes in great numbers for sacrifice. We wondered at his munificence,\nNicodemus said, not being able to explain it to ourselves, for the Feast\nof the Tabernacles is over; and our curiosity was still more roused when\nit became known that he was distributing largess. The man's appearance\naroused suspicion, for it is indeed a fearful one. From his single eye\nto his chin a fearful avariciousness fills his face, and the empty,\nwithered socket speaks of a close, sordid, secret passion, and so\nclearly that Jesus said: that man has not come to glorify God nor to\nrepent of his sins. He is guilty of a great crime, and he would have it\nforgiven him. But the crime? Of what crime is he guilty? we asked. Jesus\ndid not answer us, for at that moment some young man had come to listen\nto him, and the man's crime appeared to him as of little importance\ncompared to his own teaching. Has he come, we asked, to pray that his\nsight may be restored to him? Jesus motioned to us that that was so; and\nhe also bade us be silent, for stories of miracles have a great hold\nupon the human mind, and Jesus wished to teach some young men who had\ncome to ask him how they were to live during these last days. But\nmyself, consumed with desire to hear the man's story, mingled with the\nherdsmen who had brought in the cattle, and inquired how Shamhuth had\nlost his eye. None could tell me, and I failed to get tidings of him\ntill I came upon an Alexandrian Jew who told me a strange story.\nShamhuth's money came from his friend's wife, whom he married after\ncausing him to be killed by hirelings; and when his senses tired of her\nhe persuaded her daughter to come over to him in the night. Shamhuth\nalways walked praying aloud, his eyes cast down lest they should fall\nupon a woman, and his wife did not suspect him. But one night she was\nbidden in a dream to seek her husband, and rising from her bed she\ndescended and opened the door very softly, not wishing to disturb him in\nhis sleep. The sight that met her eyes kindled such a great flame of\nhate in her that she returned to her room for a needle, and placing her\nhands upon her daughter's mouth she quickly pricked out both her eyes,\nand then, approaching her husband, she pricked out his right eye, and\nwas about to prick out the other, but he slid from her hands and\nescaped, blind of an eye, to Jerusalem, bringing with him great sums of\nmoney in the hope that he may purchase a miracle, which is a great\nblasphemy in itself, and shows what the man really is in his heart.\n\nSuch was the story that the Alexandrian Jew, who knew him, told us; and\nas soon as these abominations became known in the Temple a riot began,\nand somebody cried: the adulterer must be put away. Whereupon Phinehas,\nseeing the large profits he had expected vanishing, turned to Jesus and\nsaid: it is thou who hast brought this disaster upon me, lying Galilean,\nwho callest thyself the son of David, when all know ye to be the son of\nJoseph the Carpenter.\n\nSon of David! Son of David! How can that be? the people began to ask\neach other, and in the midst of their questioning a great hilarity broke\nover them. In great wrath Jesus overturned Phinehas' table, and Phinehas\nwould have overthrown Jesus had not Peter, who had armed himself with a\nsword, raised it. The people became like mad: tables were broken for\nstaves, some rushed away to escape with a whole skin, and the frightened\ncattle dashed among them, a black bull goring many. And in all the mob\nJesus was the fiercest fighter, lashing the people in the face with the\nthongs of the whip he had taken from a herdsman, and felling others with\nthe handle. The cages of the doves were broken, the birds took flight,\nand the priests, at their wits' end, called for the guards to come down\nfrom the porticoes, and it was not till much blood had been spilt that\norder was restored. Joseph asked how Phinehas came out of all this\ntrouble, and heard that he had escaped without injury. Merely losing a\nfew shekels, not more, though he deserved to lose his life, for he\nplaced his money above the Temple, not caring whether it was polluted by\nthe presence of an adulterer, only thinking of the great profit he could\nmake out of the man's sins, differing in no wise in this from the\npriests and sacristans.\n\nJesus should never have gone to the Temple nor come to Jerusalem, Joseph\nsaid. But in this Nicodemus could not agree with him, for if Jesus were\nthe Messiah his mission was nothing less than to free Jerusalem from the\nRoman yoke. But he should have brought a larger body of disciples with\nhim--some thousands, instead of a few hundreds--not enough to bring\nabout the abolition of the Temple, which, according to Nicodemus, was\nthe Galilean's project--one more difficult to accomplish than he thinks\nfor. The Romans support the Temple, he cried, because the Temple divides\nus. I say it myself, Sadducee though I am.\n\nIt was these last words that proved to Joseph that the ringlets and\nbracelets did not comprise the whole of this young man's soul, and he\nwas moved forthwith to confide the story of his father's sickness to\nhim, dwelling on all its consequences: he had not been elected an\napostle, and Jesus consequently had no one by to tell him that he must\nnot speak of the abolition of the law in Jerusalem. But if he did not\ncome to incite the people against the Temple, for what did he come?\nNicodemus asked. You've heard him preach in Galilee, tell me who he is,\nand in what does his teaching consist?--a direct question that prompted\nJoseph to relate his associations with the Essenes, Banu, John, the\nsearch for Jesus in Egypt and among the Judean hills--a long story I'm\nafraid it is, Joseph mentioned apologetically to Nicodemus, who begged\nhim to omit no detail of it. Nicodemus sat with his eyes fixed on Joseph\nwhile Joseph told of the discovery of Jesus in Galilee among his\nfather's fishermen; and as if to excuse the almost immodest interest\nawakened in Nicodemus, Joseph murmured that the story owed nothing to\nhis telling of it; he was telling it as plainly as it could be told for\na purpose; Nicodemus must judge it fairly. Resuming his narrative,\nJoseph related the day spent in the forest and Jesus' interpretation of\nthe prophecies. Nicodemus cried: he is the stone cut by no hand out of\nthe mountain; the idol shall fall, and the stone that felled it shall\ngrow as big as a mountain and fill the whole earth.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XVII.\n\n\nAs they sat talking the servant brought in a letter which, he said, has\njust arrived from Galilee. The messenger rode the whole journey in two\ndays, Sir, and you'll have to do the same, Sir, and to start at once if\nyou would see your father alive. If I would see my father alive! if I\nwould see my father alive! Joseph repeated, and, seizing Nicodemus by\nthe hand, he bade him farewell.\n\nLet an escort be called together at once, he cried, and an hour later he\nwas on the back of a speedy dromedary riding through the night, his mind\nwhirling with questions which he did not put to the messenger, knowing\nhe could not answer any of them. And they rode on through that night and\nnext day, stopping but once to rest themselves and their animals--six\nhours' rest was all he allowed himself or them. Six hours' rest for\nthem, for him not an hour, so full was his mind with questions. He rode\non, drinking a little, but eating nothing, thinking how his father's\nlife might be saved, of that and nothing else. Were they feeding him\nwith milk every ten minutes?--he could not trust nurses, nobody but\nhimself. Were they shouting in his ear, keeping him awake, as it were,\nstimulating his consciousness at wane?\n\nOnce, and only once, while attending on his father did Joseph remember\nthat if his father died he would be free to follow Jesus: a shameful\nthought that he shook out of his mind quickly, praying the while upon\nhis knees by the bedside that he might not desire his father's death.\nAs the thought did not come again, he assumed that his prayer was\ngranted, and when he returned to Jerusalem a month later (the new year\nspringing up all about him), immersed in a sort of sad happiness,\nthanking God, who had restored his father to health (Joseph had left Dan\nlooking as if he would live to a hundred), a strange new thought came\ninto his mind and took possession of it: the promise given his father\nonly bound him during his father's lifetime; at his father's death he\nwould be free to follow Jesus; but the dead hold us more tightly than\nthe living, and he feared that his life would be always in his father's\nkeeping.\n\nHe was about his father's business in the counting-house; his father\nseemed to direct every transaction, and, ashamed of his weakness, he\nrefrained from giving an order till he heard, or thought he heard, his\nfather's voice speaking through him, and when he returned to his\ndwelling-house, over against the desert, it often seemed to him that if\nhe were to raise his eyes from the ashes in which some olive roots were\nburning he would see his father, and as plain as if he were before his\neyes in the flesh. But my father isn't dead, so what is the meaning of\nthis dreaming? he cried one evening; and, starting out of his chair, he\nstood listening to the gusts whirling through the hills with so\nmelancholy a sound that Joseph could not dismiss the thought that the\nmoment was fateful. His father was dying ... something was befalling, or\nit might be that Jesus was at the door asking for him. The door opened,\nand he uttered a cry: what is it? Nicodemus, the servant answered, has\ncome to see you, Sir. And he waited for his order to bid the visitor to\nenter or depart.\n\nHis master seemed unable to give either order, and stood at gaze till\nthe servant reminded him that Nicodemus was waiting in the hall; and\nthen, as if yielding to superior force, Joseph answered he was willing\nto receive the visitor, regretting his decision almost at once, while\nthe servant descended the stairs, and vehemently on seeing Nicodemus,\nwho entered, the lamplight falling upon him, more brilliantly apparelled\nthan Joseph had ever seen him. A crimson mantle hung from his shoulders\nand a white hand issuing from a purfled sleeve grasped a lance; weapons,\njewelled and engraved, appeared among the folds of his raiment, and he\nstrode about the room in silence, as if he thought it necessary to give\nJoseph a few moments in which to consider his war gear (intended as an\nelaborate piece of symbolism). In response to the riddle presented,\nJoseph began to wonder if Nicodemus regarded himself rather as a riddle\nthan as a reality--a riddle that might be propounded again and again, or\nif he could not do else than devise gaud and trappings to conceal his\ninner emptiness, a dust-heap of which he himself was grown weary. A\ngreat deal of dust-heap there certainly is, Joseph said to himself as\nhis eyes followed the strange figure prowling along and across the room,\nbreaking occasionally into speech. But he could not help thinking that\nbeneath the dust-heap there was something of worth, for when Nicodemus\nspoke, he spoke well, and to speak well means to think well, and to\nthink well, Joseph was prone to conclude, means to act well, if not\nalways, at least sometimes. But could an apt phrase condone the\naccoutrements? He had added a helmet to the rest of his war gear, and\nthe glint of the lamplight on the brass provoked Joseph to beg of him to\nunarm and relate his story, that burdens you more than your armour, he\nsaid. At these words Nicodemus was raised from the buffoon to a man of\nsense and shrewdness. I have come here, he said, to speak to you about\nJesus. But the story is a somewhat perilous one, and as it rains no\nlonger I will walk with you along the hillside and tell it to you.\n\nHe raised his hand to Joseph, forbidding him to speak, and it was not\ntill they reached a lonely track that Nicodemus stopped suddenly: his\ndeath had been resolved upon, he said, and the two men stood for a\nmoment looking into each other's eyes without speaking. It was Nicodemus\nwho fell to walking again and the relation of circumstances. He had come\nstraight from the Sanhedrin, where he defended Jesus against his enemies\nand accusers at some personal risk, as he was quickly brought to see by\nRaguel's retort: and art thou too a Galilean? And walking with his eyes\non the ground, as if communing with himself, Nicodemus related that\nthere was now but one opinion in the Sanhedrin: Jesus and Judaism were\nincompatible; one or the other must go. Better that one man should\nperish than that a nation should be destroyed, he said, are the words\none hears. Stopping again, he said, looking Joseph in the face: it is\nbelieved that sufficient warrant for his death has been gotten, for he\nsaid not many days ago he could destroy the Temple and build it again in\nthree days, which can be interpreted as speech against the law. Joseph\nasked that a meaning should be put on the words, and Nicodemus answered\nthat Jesus spoke figuratively. To his mind the Temple stood for no more\nthan observances from which all spiritual significance had faded long\nago, and Jesus meant that he could and would replace dead formul\u00e6 by a\nreligion of heart: the true religion which has no need of priests or\nsacrifices. We must persuade him to leave Jerusalem and return to\nGalilee, Joseph cried, his voice trembling. By no means, by no means,\nNicodemus exclaimed, raising his voice and stamping his lance. He has\nbeen called to the work and must drive the plough to the headland,\nthough death be waiting him there. But he can be saved, I think,\nNicodemus continued, his voice assuming a thoughtful tone, for though he\nhas spoken against the law the Jews may not put him to death: his death\ncan be obtained only by application to Pilate. Will Pilate grant it to\nplease the Jews? Joseph asked. The Romans are averse, Nicodemus\nanswered, from religious executions and will not comprehend the putting\nto death of a man for saying he can destroy the Temple and build it\nagain in three days.\n\nNicodemus became prolix and tedious, repeating again and again that it\nwas the second part of the sentence that would save Jesus, for it was\nobvious that though a man might destroy the Temple in three days (a\ngreat fire would achieve the destruction in a few hours), he could not\nbuild it again in three days. This second part of the sentence proved\nbeyond doubt that Jesus was speaking figuratively, and the Romans would\nrefuse to put a man to death because he was a poet and spoke in symbols\nand allegories. The Romans were hard, but they were just; and he spoke\non Roman justice till they came round the hills shouldering over\nagainst Bethany, and found themselves in the midst of a small group of\nmen taking shelter from the wind behind a large rock. Why, Master, it is\nyou. And Joseph recognised Peter's voice, and afterwards the voices of\nJames and John, who were with him, called to Matthew and Aristion, who\nwere at some little distance, sitting under another rock, and the five\napostles crowded round Joseph, bidding him welcome, Peter, James and\nJohn demonstratively, and Aristion and Matthew, who knew Joseph but\nlittle, giving him a more timid but hardly less friendly welcome. We did\nnot know why you had left us, they said. But it is pleasant to find you\nin Jerusalem, for we are lonely here, Matthew said, and the\nHierosolymites mock at us for not speaking as they do. But you are with\nus here, young Master, as you were in Galilee? John asked. We knew not\nwhy you left us. But we did, John, Peter interposed, we knew well that\nJesus said to him, when he returned from his father's sick-bed, that\nthose who would follow him must leave father and mother, brother and\nsister, wives and children to live and die by themselves, which is as we\nhave done. Yes, Sir, Peter continued, freeing himself from John and\nturning to Joseph, we've left this world behind us, or if not this world\nitself, the things of this world: our boats and nets, our wives and our\nchildren. All that Jesus calls our ghostly life we have thrown into the\nlake. My wife and children and mother-in-law are all there, and John and\nJames have left their mother, Salome. But, said James, the neighbours\nwill not be lacking to give her a bite if she wants something when she\nis hungry. She'll be getting men to fish for her, for we've left her\nour boats and nets. They've done this, Peter chimed in, and my wife and\nchildren will have to be fishing for themselves; but we hope they'll\nmanage to get somehow a bite and a sup of something till the Kingdom\ncomes, which we hope will not be delayed much longer, for we like not\nJerusalem, and being mocked at in the Temple. But say ye, Master, that\nwe've done wrong in leaving our wives and children to fish for\nthemselves? It seemed hard at first, and you were weak, Master, and\nstayed with your father; but after all he has money and could pay for\nattendance, whereas our wives and little ones have none; ourselves will\nbe in straits to get our living if the Kingdom be delayed in its coming,\nfor what good are fishermen except along the sea coast or where there is\na lake or a river, and here there isn't enough water for a minnow to\nswim in. Our wives and our children are better off than we are, for\nthey'll be getting someone to fish for them, and will stand at the doors\nat Capernaum waiting for the boats to return, praying that the nets\nweren't let down in vain; but we aren't as sure of the Kingdom as we\nwere of a great take of fishes in Galilee when the wind was favourable\nto fishing. Not that we'd have you think our faith be failing us; we be\nas firm as ever we were, as John and James will be telling you. And\nPeter, interrupting them again, reminded Joseph that if they lacked\nfaith the promised Kingdom would not come.\n\nIt was Jesus' faith that upheld us, John said, pushing Peter aside, and\nthe promises he made us that we might hear the trumpets of the cherubims\nand seraphims announcing the Kingdom at any moment of the day or night.\nAnd making himself the spokesman of the five, John told Joseph and\nNicodemus that Jesus now looked upon the arrival of the Kingdom as a\nvery secondary matter, and his own death as one of much greater import.\nHe says that he'll have to give his blood to the earth and his flesh to\nthe birds of the air else none will believe his teaching. He says that\nGod demands a victim; and looks upon him as the victim; but if that be\nso, the world will get his teaching and we shall get nothing, for we\nknow his teaching of old.\n\nAs Peter has told you, James interrupted, there be no water here, not a\nspring nor a rivulet, nothing in which a fish could live; we're\nfishermen stranded in a desert without boats or nets, which would be of\nno use to us, nor am I gainsaying it; but if he gives himself as a\nvictim how shall we get back to Galilee? He now talks not of these\nmatters to us, but of his Father only, and of doing his Father's will.\nHe seems to have forgotten us, and everything else but his Father and\nhis Father's will, and we cannot make him understand when we try that we\nshall want money, that money will be wanting to get us back to Galilee,\nnor does he hear us when we say: our nets and our boats may have passed\ninto other hands. We know not what is come over him; he's a changed man;\na lamb as long as you're agreeing with him, but at a word of\ncontradiction he's all claws and teeth.\n\nThe walk is a long one, Matthew interjected, and the taxes will be\ncollected by the time we get back if the Kingdom don't come, and sore of\nfoot I'll be sitting in a desolate house without wife or children or\nfire in the hearth. But we have faith, they all cried out together, and\nhaving followed Jesus so far we'll follow him to the end. But we are\nglad, Sirs, James said, that you've come, for you'll see Jesus and tell\nhim that we would like to have a word from him as to when we may expect\nthe Kingdom; and a word, too, as to what it will be like; whether\nthere'll be rivers and lakes well stocked with fish in it, and whether\nour chairs shall be set; Peter on the Master's right hand to be sure, we\nare all agreed as to that. But you remember, Master, our mother, Salome,\nhow she took Jesus aside and said that myself and John were to be on his\nleft with Andrew one below us? Peter began to raise his voice, and,\nstraightening his shoulders, he declared that his brother Andrew must\nsit on Jesus' left. You remember, Master? I remember, Joseph\ninterrupted, that the Master answered you all saying that every chair\nhad been made and caned and cushioned before the world was. You can't\nhave forgotten, Peter, this saying: that every one would find a chair\naccording to his measure? Yes, Master, he did say something like that.\nI'm far from saying we'd all sit equally easy in the same chairs, and if\nthe chairs were before the world was, all I can say is that there seems\nto have been a lack of foresight, for how could God himself know what\nour backsides would be like years upon years before they came into\nbeing.\n\nAbout that we will speak later; but now point out the house of Simon the\nLeper to us where Jesus lodges, Joseph asked. You see yon house, James\nreplied, and they went forward together, meeting on the way thither\nseveral apostles and many disciples; and these accompanied Joseph and\nNicodemus to the door, telling them the while that Jesus had driven them\nout of the house. It is a main struggle that is going by in him, Philip\nsaid, and so we left him, being afraid of his looks. Isn't that so,\nBartholomew? And they all acquiesced, and Bartholomew nodded, saying:\nyes, we were afraid of his looks. It was then that Simon the Leper\nopened the door, and Joseph, remembering his promise to his father, laid\nhis hand on Nicodemus' shoulder: I may not enter, he said. I have come\nthus far but may not go into the house; but do you go in and tell him,\nNicodemus, that in spirit I am with him.\n\nOn these words Nicodemus passed into the house, leaving Joseph in the\ncentre of a small crowd of apostles, disciples and sympathisers in\nseveral degrees, all eager to talk to him and to hear him say that they\nhad but to follow Jesus to Jerusalem and the Scribes and Pharisees would\ngive way before them at once. You that are of the Sanhedrin should know\nif we are strong enough to cast them out of the Temple. But, my good\nmen, I know nothing of your plot to clear the Temple of its thieves,\nJoseph answered, and there'll always be thieves in this world, wherever\nyou go. But the Day of Judgment is approaching. When may we expect his\nsecond coming? somebody shouted from out of a group of men standing a\nlittle way back from the others, and the cry was taken up. He is coming\nwith his Father in a chariot, one said. With our Father, somebody\ninterrupted, and an eddying current of theology spread through the\ncrowd. I've come from Galilee, from my father's sick-bed, and know\nnothing of your numbers and have not seen him these many months, Joseph\nsaid. He is the true Messiah, and we believe in him, was an unexpected\nutterance; but Joseph was not given time to ponder on it, for a woman,\nthrusting her way up to him, cried out in his face: he can destroy the\nTemple and build it again in three days. And when Joseph asked her who\nhad said that, she told him that Jesus had said it. He turned to Peter,\nJohn and James to ask them the meaning of these words. What did Jesus\nmean when he said he could destroy the Temple and build it again in\nthree days? He means, said half-a-dozen voices, that the priests and the\nScribes are to be cast out, and a new Temple set up, for the pure\nworship of the true God, who desires not the fat of rams. Joseph\nunderstood that the rams destined for sacrifice were to be given to the\npoor.\n\nIf you don't mind, will you be telling us why you refuse to go up with\nNicodemus to ask Jesus to delay no longer, but to lead us into\nJerusalem? he was asked, and perforce had to answer that Nicodemus\nwished to talk privily to Jesus, at which they pressed round him, and\nfrom every side the question was put to him: is he going to lead us into\nJerusalem? And then Joseph began to understand that these people would\nfind themselves on the morrow, or perhaps the next day, fighting with\nthe Roman legions, and, knowing how the fight would end, he answered\nthem that the Romans would be on the side of the priests and Scribes.\nWhereupon they tore their garments and cast dust on their heads, and in\nhis attempt to pacify them he asked if it would not be better for Jesus\nto go up to Galilee and wait till the priests were less prepared to\nresist him. No, no, to Jerusalem, to Jerusalem, they cried on every\nside, and voices were again raised, and the Galileans admitted that they\nhad come down from Galilee for this revolution, and had been insulted in\nthe Temple by the Scribes, and laughed at, and called \"foolish\nGalileans\"; but they would show the Scribes what the Galileans could do.\nWas it true that Jesus was the Messiah promised to the Jewish people by\nthe prophet Daniel?--and while Joseph was seeking an answer to this\nquestion a woman cried: you're not worthy of a Messiah, for do you not\nknow that he is the one promised to us in Holy Writ? And do not his\nmiracles prove that he is the Messiah we have been waiting for? None but\nthe true Messiah could have rid my son of the demon that infested him\nfor two years; and with these words gaining the attention of the crowd\nshe related how the ghost of a man long dead had come into her boy when\nhe was but fourteen, bringing him to the verge of death in two years--a\npale, exhausted creature, having no will of his own nor strength for\nanything. But how, asked Joseph, do you know that the demon was the\nghost of a man that had lived long ago? Because in life he had dearly\nloved his wife, but had found her to be unfaithful to him and had died\nof grief twenty years ago, and was captured then by the beauty of my\nboy; and his grief entered into the boy and abode in him, and would have\ndestroyed him utterly if Jesus had not imposed his hands upon him and\nput the vampire to flight. Whither I know not, but my boy is free. It is\nas the woman says, a man cried out, for I've seen the boy, and he is\nfree now of the demon. My limb, too, is proof that Jesus is a prophet.\nAnd the lion-hunter told how in a fight with a great beast his thigh had\nbeen dislocated; and for seven years he had walked with a crutch, but\nthe moment Jesus imposed his hands upon him the use of his limb was\ngiven back to him.\n\nAnother came forward and showed his arm, which for many a year had hung\nlifeless, but as soon as Jesus took it in his hand the sinews reknit\nthemselves, and now it was stronger than the other. And then a woman\npressed through the crowd, and she wished everybody to know that a flux\nof blood that had troubled her for seven years had been healed. But the\npeople were bored with accounts of miracles and were now anxious to hear\nfrom Joseph if Jesus was going up to Jerusalem for the Feast of the\nPassover. But, my friends, I have but just returned from Galilee, and\nhave come from there to learn these things. He is watching for a sign\nfrom his Father in heaven, a woman cried, shaking her head. A man tried\nto get some words privily with Joseph: will he speak against the taxes?\nhe asked, but before he could get any further Nicodemus appeared in the\ndoorway, and the people pressed round him, asking what Jesus had said to\nhim, and if he were coming down to speak to them. But before Nicodemus\ncould answer any of them the lion-hunter cried out that a priest was not\nso terrible a beast as a lion, and while he was with them Jesus had\nnothing to fear. At which his enemy in the crowd began to jeer, saying:\nAsiel wears the lion's skin, we all know, but he has never told anybody\nwho killed the lion for him. And the men might have hit each other if\nthe woman who suffered for seven years had not cried out: now, what are\nyou fighting for? know ye not that Jesus cannot come down to us, for he\nis waiting for a sign from his Father? From our Father, John thundered\nout. Nicodemus said he had spoken truly, and the crowd followed\nNicodemus and Joseph a little way. Do not return to the house of Simon\nthe Leper. Leave Jesus in peace to-night to pray, meditate, and rest,\nfor he needs rest. He'll lead you to Jerusalem as soon as he gets a sign\nfrom our Father which is in heaven, Nicodemus said.\n\nAt these words the people dispersed in great joy, and Joseph and\nNicodemus walked on together in silence, till Joseph, feeling that they\nwere safely out of hearing, asked if Jesus spoke of his intention to\ntake Jerusalem by assault. Nicodemus seemed to examine his memory for a\nmoment, and then, as if forgetting Joseph's question, he began to tell\nthat Jesus was standing in the middle of the room when he entered,\nseemingly unaware that his disciples were assembled about the house. His\neyes fixed, as it were, on his thoughts or ideas, he did not hear the\ndoor open, and to get his attention Nicodemus had to lay his hand upon\nhis arm. At his touch Jesus awoke from his dream, but it seemed quite a\nlittle while before he could shake himself free from his dream, and was\nagain of this world. Joseph asked Nicodemus to repeat his first words.\nWas he violent or affectionate? Affectionate, gentle, and winning,\nNicodemus answered. A few moments of sweetness, and then he seemed\nsuddenly to become old and wild and savage.\n\nThe two men stopped on the road, and Nicodemus looking into Joseph's\neyes, said: I asked him if he were going up to Jerusalem for the Feast\nof the Passover, and after speaking a few words on the subject he broke\nout, coiling himself like a diseased panther meditating on its spring,\nand as if uncertain if he could accomplish it, he fell back into a chair\nand into his dream, out of which he spoke a few words clear and\nreasonable; and then with a concentrated hate he spoke of the Temple as\na resort of thieves and of the priests as the despoilers of widows and\norphans, saying that the law must be abrogated and the Temple destroyed.\nUntil then there would be no true religion in Judea. It is like that he\nspeaks now; the one-time reformer sees clearly that the Temple must go.\nAnd would he, Joseph asked, build another in its place? I'm not sure\nthat he would. I put the question to him and he was uncertain if the old\nfoundations could be used. The old spirits of lust, and blood, and money\nwould haunt the walls, and as fast as we raised up a new Temple the\nspirits would pull it down and rebuild it as it was before. We are\nforbidden by the law of Moses to create any graven image of man, of bird\nor beast. Would that Moses had added: build no walls, for as soon as\nthere are walls priests will enter in and set themselves upon thrones.\nThe priests have taken the place of God, and I have come, he said, to\ncast them out of their thrones, and to cut the knot of the bondage of\nthe people of Israel. I come, he said, with a sword to cut that knot,\nwhich hands have failed to loosen, and in my other hand there is a\ntorch, and with it I shall set fire to the thrones. All the world as ye\nknow it must be burnt up like stubble, for a new world to rise up in its\nplace. In the beginning I spoke sweet words of peace, and they were of\nno avail to stay the sins that were committed in every house; so now I\nspeak no more sweet words to anybody, but words that shall divide father\nfrom son, and mother from daughter, and wife from husband. There is no\nother way to cure the evil. What say I, he cried, cure! There is none.\nThe evil must be cut down and thrown upon the fire, and whosoever would\nbe saved from the fire must follow me. The priests hate me and call me\narrogant, but if I seem arrogant to them it is because I speak the word\nof God.\n\nAnd then, seizing me by the shoulder, he said: look into my eyes and\nsee. They shall tell thee that those who would be saved from the fire\nmust follow me. I am the word, the truth, and the life. Follow me,\nfollow me, or else be for ever accursed and destroyed and burnt up like\nweeds that the gardener throws into heaps and fires on an autumn\nevening. Yes, he cried, we are nearing the springtime when life shall\nbegin again in the world. But I say to thee that this springtime shall\nnever come to pass. Never again shall the fig ripen on the wall and the\nwheat be cut down in the fields. Before these things come to pass in\ntheir natural course the Son of Man shall return in a chariot of fire to\nmake an end of things; or if thou wilt thou can say that he'll come not\nto make an end but a new beginning, a world in which justice and peace\nshall reign. And it is for this end I offer myself, a victim to appease\nour Father in heaven. I'm the sacrifice and the communion, for it is no\nlonger the fat of rams that my Father desires, but my blood, only that;\nonly my blood will appease his wrath. As I have said, I am the\ncommunion, and thou shalt eat my flesh and drink my blood, else perish\nutterly, and go into eternal damnation. But I love thee and---- And\nafter a pause he said: those that love God are loved by me, and\nwillingly and gladly will I yield myself up as the last sacrifice.\n\nNicodemus stopped, for his memory died suddenly, and, unable to discover\nanything in the blank, he turned to Joseph and said: he speaks with a\nstrange, bitter energy, like one that has lost control of his words; he\nis hardly aware of them, nor does he retain any memory of them. They are\nas the wind, rising we know not why, and going its way unbidden. I have\nseen him like that in Galilee, Joseph answered. Ah! Nicodemus answered\nsuddenly, I remember, but cannot put words upon it. He said that before\nthe world was, he and his Father were one, and that his great love of\nman induced him to separate himself----\n\nAt that moment a man came out from the shadow of a rock and approached\nthe wayfarers, who drew back quickly, thinking they were about to be\nattacked. It is Judas, Joseph whispered, one of the apostles. You have\nseen Jesus? Judas asked breathlessly, and when Nicodemus told how Jesus\nhad said he would go up to Jerusalem for the Passover he cried out: to\nlead us against the Temple? He must be saved. From what? Nicodemus\nasked: from his mission? He must go on to the end with the work he has\nbeen called out of heaven to accomplish. I can see that you have been\nspeaking with him. Called out of heaven to accomplish! And then,\nclasping his hands, Judas looked with imploring eyes upon them: save\nhim, he cried, save him, for if not, I must myself, for every day his\npride redoubles and now he believes himself to be the Messiah, the\nMessiah as sent by God, Judas cried. By whom else could he be sent?\nJoseph replied. If he be not taken by the priests and put to death he\nwill be driven by the demon into the last blasphemy; one which no Jew\nhas yet committed even in his heart, and if that word be spoken all will\nbe accomplished, and the Lord will choose another nation from among the\nGentiles. He will declare himself God, Judas continued. Nicodemus and\nJoseph raised their hands. He speaks already of the time before the\nworld was, when he and his Father were one; and setting aside the\nScriptures in his madness he has begun to imagine that the angels that\nrevolted against God were changed into men, and given the world for\nabode till their sins so angered the Father (remark you, of whom Jesus\nwas then a part) that he determined to destroy the world; at which Jesus\nin his great love of men (or of fallen angels, for betimes he doesn't\nknow what he is saying) said he would put Godhead off and become man,\nand give his life as atonement for the sins of men. Sirs, I'll ask you\nhow God or man may by his death make atonement for the sins that men\nhave committed? Hear me to the end, for as many minutes as you have\nlistened, I have listened hours. By this sacrifice of his life his\nteaching will become known to men and he will reign the one and only\nking till the world itself crumbles and perishes. Then he will become\none with his Father, and from that moment there will be but one God.\nThese are the thoughts, noble Sirs, on which he is brooding, and if he\ngo up to yon town it will be to---- Judas could not bring himself to\npronounce the words \"declare himself God,\" so blasphemous did they seem\nto him. And before the wayfarers could ask him, as they were minded to,\nif he were sure that he had rightly understood Jesus, the apostle had\nbidden them farewell, and, running up a by-track, disappeared into the\ndarkness, leaving behind him a memory of a large bony nose hanging over\na thin black moustache that barely covered his lips.\n\nAs they walked towards the city, over which the moon was hanging,\nfilling the valleys and hills with strange, fantastical shadows, they\nremembered the black, shaggy eyebrows, the luminous eyes, and the\nbitter, penetrating voice, and they remembered the gait, the long\nstriding legs as they hastened up the steep path; even the pinched back\noften started up in their memory. And the next three or four days they\nsought him in the crowds that assembled to make the triumphal entry\nwith Jesus into Jerusalem, but he was not to be seen; and if he had been\namong the people they could not fail to have discovered him. He is not\nhere to welcome Jesus, Joseph muttered under his breath, and added: can\nit be that he has deserted to the other side?\n\nHe is a sort of other Jesus, Nicodemus said. But yonder Jesus comes\nriding on an ass, on which a crimson cloak has been laid. As Jesus\npassed Nicodemus and Joseph he waved his hand, and there was a smile on\nhis lips and a light in his eye. He seems to have become suddenly young\nagain, Joseph said. He is exalted, Nicodemus added sadly, by his\nfollowing. And they counted about fifty men and women. Does he think\nthat with these he will drive the Pharisees and Sadducees out of the\nTemple? he added. He is happy again, Joseph answered. See how he lifts\nup the fringe of the mantle they have laid upon the ass, and admires it.\nHis face is happier than we have seen it for many a day. He likes the\npeople to salute him as the Son of David. Yet he knows, Nicodemus said,\nthat he is the son of Joseph the Carpenter. Ask him to beg the people\nnot to call him the Son of David, Joseph pleaded. And, running after the\nass, Nicodemus dared to say: ask the people not to call thee the Son of\nDavid, for it will go against thee in the end. But Jesus' heart at that\nmoment was swollen with pride, and he answered Nicodemus: what thou\nhearest to-day on earth was spoken in heaven before our Father bade the\nstars give light. Be not afraid for my sake. Remember that whomsoever my\nFather sends on earth to do his business, him will he watch over. He has\nno eyes for me, Joseph said sadly, for I left him to attend my father in\nsickness. And, taking Nicodemus' arm, he drew him close, that he might\nmore safely whisper that two men seemed to be searching in their\ngarments as if for daggers. Nicodemus knew them to be hirelings in the\npay of the priests. Look, he said, how their hands fidget for their\ndaggers; the opportunity seems favourable now to stab him; but no, the\ncrowd closes round his ass again, and the Zealots draw back. God saved\nDaniel from the flames and the lions, Joseph answered. But will he,\nNicodemus returned, be able to save him from the priests?\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XVIII.\n\n\nNicodemus invited Joseph to follow Jesus, saying that at a safe distance\nhe would like to see him ride through the gates into the city; but\nJoseph, sorely troubled in his mind, could not answer him, and an hour\nlater was hastening along the Jericho road, praying all the while that\nhe might be given strength to keep the promise he had given to his\nfather. But no sooner was he in Jericho than he began to feel ashamed of\nhimself, and after resisting the impulse to return to Jesus for two\ndays he yielded to it, and returned obediently the way he had come,\nuncertain whether shame of his cowardice or love was bringing him back.\nOne or the other it must be, he said, as he came round the bend in the\nroad into Bethany; and it was soon after passing through that village,\nsomewhere about three o'clock, that he met his masons coming from Mount\nScropas. Coming from my tomb, he said to himself, and, reining up his\nhorse and speaking to them, he heard that his tomb was finished. We've\nchiselled a great stone to be rolled into the doorway, he heard one of\nthe masons say; another uttered vauntingly that the stone closed the\ntomb perfectly, and Joseph was about to press his horse forward when the\nmen called after him, and, gathering about his stirrup, they related\nthat Jesus of Nazareth had been tried and condemned by Pilate that\nmorning, and was now hanging on a cross, a-top of Golgotha, one of the\nmasons said: you can see him yourself, Master, if you be going that way,\nand between two thieves. One of them was to have been Jesus Bar-Abba,\nbut the people cried out that he was to be released instead of Jesus. As\nJoseph repeated the words, Bar-Abba instead of Jesus, as if he only half\nunderstood them, the masons reminded him that it was the custom to\ndeliver up a prisoner to the people at the time of the Passover. At the\ntime of the Passover, he repeated.... At last, realising what had\nhappened, his face became overwrought; his eyes and mouth testified to\nthe grief he was suffering; and he pressed his spurs to his horse's\nside, and would have been away beyond call if two of his workmen had not\nseized the bridle and almost forced the horse on his haunches. Loose my\nbridle, Joseph cried, astonished and beside himself. A moment with you,\nMaster. Be careful to speak no word in his favour, and make no show of\nsympathy, else a Zealot's knife will be in your back before evening, for\nthey be seeking the Galileans everywhere, at the priests' bidding.\nBefore Joseph could break away he heard that the priests stirred up the\npeople against Jesus, giving it forth against him that he had come to\nJerusalem to burn down the Temple, and would set up another--built\nwithout the help of hands, of what materials he did not know, but not\nof stones nor wood, yet a Temple that will last for ever, the mason\nshouted after Joseph, who had stuck his spurs again into his horse and\nwas riding full tilt towards a hill about half-a-mile from the city\nwalls. On his way thither he met some of the populace--the remnant\nreturning from the crucifixion--and he rode up the ascent at a gallop in\nthe hope that he might be in time to save Jesus' life.\n\nHe knew Pilate would grant him almost any favour he might ask; but\nwithin fifty yards of the crosses his heart began to fail him, for,\nwhereas the thieves were straining their heads high in the air above the\ncrossbar, Jesus' head was sunk on to his chest. He died a while ago, the\ncenturion said, and as soon as he was dead the multitude began to\ndisperse, the Sabbath being at hand; and guessing Joseph to be a man of\nimportance, he added: if you like I'll make certain that he is dead,\nand, taking his spear from one of the soldiers, he would have plunged it\ninto Jesus' side, but Joseph, forgetful of the warning he had received,\non no account to show sympathy with Jesus, laid his hand on the\nspear-head, saying: respect the dead. As you will, the centurion\nreplied, and gave the spear back to the soldier, who returned to his\ncomrades, it being his turn to cast the dice. They have cast dice, the\ncenturion continued, and will divide the clothes of these men amongst\nthem; and, hearing the words, one of the soldiers held up the rags that\nhad come to him, while another spread upon the ground Jesus' fine cloak,\nthe one that Peter had bought for Jesus with money that Joseph gave to\nhim. That he should see the cloak again, and on such an occasion,\ntouched his heart. It was a humble incident in a cruel murder committed\nby a priest; and the thought crossed Joseph's mind that he might\npurchase the cloak from the soldier, but, remembering the warning he had\nreceived, he did not ask for the cloak, nor did he once lift his eyes to\nJesus' face, lest the sight of it should wring his heart, and being\novercome and helpless with grief, the priests and their hirelings might\nbegin to suspect him.\n\nHe strove instead to call reason to his aid: Jesus' life being spent,\nhis duty was to obtain the body and bury it: far worse than the death he\nendured would be for his sacred body to be thrown into the common ditch\nwith these malefactors. I know not how you can abide here, he said to\nthe centurion; their groans make the heart faint. We shall break their\nbones presently; the Jews asked us to do this, for at six o'clock their\nSabbath begins. And in this the thieves are lucky, for were it not for\ntheir Sabbath they would last on for three or four days: the first day\nis the worst day; afterwards the crucified sinks into unconsciousness,\nand I doubt if he suffers at all on the third day, and on the fourth day\nhe dies. But, Sir, what may I do for you? I've come for the body of this\nman, Joseph answered; for, however erring, he was not a thief, and\ndeserves decent burial. You can come with me to testify that I've buried\nit in a rock sepulchre, the stone of which yourself shall roll into the\ndoor. To which the centurion answered that he did not dare to deliver up\nthe body of Jesus without an order from Pilate, though he was dead. Dead\nan hour or more, truly dead, he added. Pilate will not refuse his body\nto me, Joseph replied. Pilate and I are well acquainted; we are as\nfriends are; you must have seen me at the Pr\u00e6torium before now, coming\nto talk with the procurator about the transport of wheat from Moab, and\nother things.\n\nThese words filled the centurion with admiration, and, afraid to seem\nignorant, he said he remembered having seen Joseph and knew him to be a\nfriend of Pilate. Well then, come with me at once to Jerusalem, Joseph\nsaid coaxingly, and you'll see that Pilate will order thee to deliver\nthe dead unto me. But the centurion demurred, saying that his orders\nwere not to leave the gibbets. Upon my own word, Pilate will not deliver\nup the body unless I bring you with me; I shall require you to testify\nof the death. So come with me. The unwillingness of the centurion was\nreduced to naught at the mention of a sum of money, and, giving orders\nto his soldiers that nothing was to be done during his absence, he\nwalked beside Joseph's horse into Jerusalem, telling to Joseph as they\nwent the story of the arrest in the garden, the haling of Jesus before\nthe High Priest, and the sending of him on to Pilate, who, though\nunwilling to confirm the sentence of death, was afraid of a riot, and\nhad yielded to the people's wish. The account of the scourging of Jesus\nin the hall of the palace, and the bribing of the soldiers by the Jews\nto make a mocking-stock of Jesus, was not finished when Joseph, who had\nbeen listening without hearing, said: here is the door.\n\nAnd while they waited for the door to be opened, and after the\ndoorkeeper had opened it, the centurion continued to tell his tale: how\na purple cloak was thrown upon the shoulders of Jesus, a reed put into\nhis hand, and a crown of thorns pressed upon his forehead. We wondered\nhow it was that he said nothing. We have come to see his worship, Joseph\ninterrupted; and the doorkeeper, who knew Joseph to be a friend of\nPilate, was embarrassed, for Pilate had sent down an order that he would\nsee no one again that day; but, like the centurion, he was amenable to\nmoney, and consented to take in Joseph's name. There was no need to give\nhim money, he would not have dared to refuse Pilate's friend, the\ncenturion said as they waited.\n\nWord came back quickly that Joseph was to be admitted, and after\nbegging Pilate to forgive him for intruding upon his privacy so late in\nthe day, he put his request into words, saying straight away: I have\ncome to ask for the body of Jesus, who was condemned to the cross at\nnoon. At these words Pilate's face became overcast, and he said that he\nregretted that Joseph had come to ask him for something he could not\ngrant. It would have been pleasant to leave Jerusalem knowing that I\nnever refused you anything, Joseph, for you are the one Jew for whom I\nhave any respect, and, I may add, some affection. But why, Pilate,\ncannot you give me Jesus' body? His body, is that what you ask for,\nJoseph? It seemed to me that you had come to ask me to undo the sentence\nthat I pronounced to-day at noon. The body! Is Jesus dead then? The\ncenturion answered for Joseph: yes, sir; he died to-day at the ninth\nhour. I put a lance into him to make sure, and blood and water came from\nhis side. At which statement Joseph trembled, for he was acquiescing in\na lie; but he did not dare to contradict the centurion, who was speaking\nin his favour for the sake of the money he had received, and in the hope\nof receiving more for the lie that he told. On the cross at noon and\ndead before the ninth hour! Pilate muttered: he could but bear the cross\nfor three hours! After the scourging we gave him, Sir, the centurion\nanswered, he was so weak and feeble that we had to pass on his cross to\nthe shoulders of a Jew named Simon of Cyrene, who carried it to the top\nof the mount for him. If he be dead there is no reason for my not giving\nup the body, Pilate answered. Which I shall bury, Joseph replied, in my\nown sepulchre. What, Joseph, have you already ordered your sepulchre? To\nmy eyes you do not look more than five or six and twenty years, and to\nmy eyes you look as if you would live for sixty more years at least; but\nyou Jews never lose sight of death, as if it were the only good. We\nRomans think so too sometimes, but not so frequently as you.\n\nAnd then this tall, grave, handsome man, whose face reflected a friendly\nbut somewhat formal soul, took Joseph by the arm and walked with him up\nand down the tessellated pavement, talking in his ear, showing himself\nso well disposed towards him that the centurion congratulated himself\nthat he had accepted Joseph's bribe. If I had only known that you were a\nclose friend, Pilate said to Joseph--but if I had known as much it would\nonly have made things more difficult for me. A remarkable man. And now,\non thinking it over, it must have been that I was well disposed to him\nfor that reason, for there could have been no other; for what concern of\nmine is it that you Jews quarrel and would tear each other to pieces for\nyour various beliefs in God and his angels? So Jesus was your friend?\nTell me about him; I would know more about him than I could learn from a\nbrief interview with him in the Pr\u00e6torium, where I took him and talked\nto him alone. A brief account I pray you give me. And Joseph, who was\nthinking all the while that the Sabbath was approaching, gave to Pilate\nsome brief account of Jesus in Galilee.\n\nSo you too, Joseph, are susceptible to this belief that the bodies of\nmen are raised out of the earth into heaven? I would ask you if the body\nis ridded of its worms before it is carried away by angels. But I see\nthat you are pressed for time; the Sabbath approaches; I must not detain\nyou, and yet I would not let you go without telling you that it pleases\nme to give his body for burial. A body deserves burial that has been\npossessed by a lofty soul, for how many years, thirty? I would have\nsaved him if it had been possible to do so; but he gave me no chance;\nhis answers were brief and evasive; and he seemed to desire death;\nseemingly he looked upon his death as necessary for the accomplishment\nof his mission. Have I divined him right? Joseph answered that Pilate\nread Jesus' soul truly, which flattered Pilate and persuaded him into\nfurther complaint that if he had not saved Jesus it was because Jesus\nwould not answer him. He seemed to me like a man only conscious of his\nown thoughts, Pilate said; even while speaking he seemed to rouse hardly\nat all out of his dream, a delirious dream, if I may so speak, of the\nworld redeemed from the powers of evil and given over to the love of\nGod. This, however, he did say: that any power which I might have over\nhim came to me from above, from his Father which is in heaven, else I\ncould do nothing; and there was bitterness in his voice as he spoke\nthese words, which seemed to suggest that he was of opinion that his\nFather had gone a little too far in allowing the Jews to send him to me\nto condemn to death.\n\nHis Father in heaven and himself are one, and yet they differ in this.\nSo he was your friend, Joseph? If I had known it there would have been\nan additional reason for my trying to save him from the hatred of the\nJews; for I hate the Jews, and would willingly leave them to-morrow. But\nthey cried out: you are not C\u00e6sar's friend; this man would set up a new\nkingdom and overthrow the Romans; and, as I have already told you,\nJoseph, I asked Jesus if he claimed to be King of the Jews, but he\nanswered me: you have said it, adding, however, that his kingdom was not\nof this world. Evasive answers of that kind are worthless when a mob is\nsurging round the Pr\u00e6torium. A hateful crowd they looked to me; a cruel,\nrapacious, vindictive crowd, with nothing in their minds but hatred. I\nsuspect they hated him for religious reasons. You Jews are--forgive me,\nJoseph, you are an exception among your people--a bitter, intolerant\nrace. You would not allow me to bring the Roman eagles to Jerusalem, for\nyou cannot look upon graven things. All the arts you have abolished, and\nyour love of God resolves itself into hatred of men; so it seems to me.\nIt would have pleased me very well indeed to have thwarted the Jews in\ntheir desire for this man's life, but I was threatened by a revolt, and\nthe soldiers at my command are but auxiliaries, and not in sufficient\nnumbers to quell a substantial riot. I will tell you more: if the legion\nthat I was promised had arrived from C\u00e6sarea the lust of the Jews for\nthe blood of those that disagree with them would not have been\nsatisfied. I went so far as to send messengers to inquire for the\nlegion. But the man is dead now, and further talking will not raise him\ninto life again. You have come to ask me for his body, and you would\nbury it in your own tomb. It is like you, Joseph, to wish to honour your\ndead friend. Methinks you are more Roman than Jew. Say not so in the\nhearing of my countrymen, Joseph replied, or I may meet my death for\nyour good opinion.\n\nThe Sabbath is now approaching, and you'll forgive me if I indulge in no\nfurther words of thanks, Pilate. I may not delay, lest the hour should\ncome upon me after which no work can be done. Not that I hold with such\nstrict observances. A good work done upon the Sabbath must be viewed\nmore favourably by God than a bad work done on another day of the week.\nBut I would not have it said that I violated the Sabbath to bury Jesus.\nAs you will, my good Joseph, Pilate said, and stood looking after Joseph\nand the centurion, who, as they drew near to the gate of the city,\nremembered that a sheet would be wanted to wrap the body in. Joseph\nanswered the centurion that there was no time for delay, but the\ncenturion replied: in yon shop sheets are sold. Moreover, you will want\na lantern, Sir, for the lifting of the body from the cross will take\nsome time, and the carrying of it to the tomb will be a slow journey for\nyou though you get help, and the day will be gone when you arrive. You\nhad better buy a lantern, Sir. Joseph did as he was bidden, and they\nhurried on to Golgotha.\n\nNothing has been done in my absence? the centurion asked the soldiers,\nwho answered: nothing, Sir; and none has been here but these women, whom\nwe did not drive away, but told that you were gone with one Joseph of\nArimathea to get an order from Pilate for the body. That was well, the\ncenturion answered. And now do you loose the cords that bind the hands,\nand get the dead man down. Which was easy to accomplish, the feet of the\ncrucified being no more than a few inches from the ground; and while\nthis was being done Joseph told the centurion that the women were the\nsisters of Lazarus, whom Jesus had raised from the dead; a story that\nset the Roman soldiers laughing. Can a man be raised from the dead? they\nasked; and if this man could do such a thing how is it that he did not\nraise himself out of death into life? To which neither Joseph nor the\ntwo women made any answer, but stood, their eyes fixed on their\nthoughts, asking themselves how they were to carry Jesus to the\nsepulchre, distant about a mile and a half. And it not seeming to them\nthat they could carry the body, the centurion offered Joseph the help of\none of his soldiers, which they would have accepted, but at that moment\nan ox-cart was perceived hastening home in the dusk. Joseph, going after\nthe carrier, offered him money if he would bring the body of one of the\ncrucified to the sepulchre in Mount Scropas for him. To which the\ncarrier consented, though he was not certain that the job might not\nprevent him from getting home before the Sabbath began. But he would see\nwhat could be done.\n\nJesus was laid on the ox-cart, and Mary, Martha and Joseph following it\nreached Mount Scropas, in which was the tomb, before sunset. As I told\nthee with half-an-hour for thee to get home before the Sabbath, Joseph\nsaid to the carrier, his eyes fixed on the descending sun. Now take this\nman by the feet and I'll take him by the head. But will you not light\nthe lantern, Sir? the carrier said; for though there be light on the\nhillside, it will be night in the tomb, and we shall be jostling our\nheads against the stone and perhaps falling over the dead man.... I have\nsteel and tinder. Wherefrom the lantern was lit and given to Martha, who\nlighted them into the tomb, Joseph and the carrier bearing the body,\nwith Mary following.\n\nJesus was laid on the couch beneath the arch, and when Mary and Martha\nhad drawn the sheet over his face Joseph turned to the women, saying:\nnow do you go hence to Bethany and prepare spices and cloths for the\nembalmment, and come hither with them in the early morning the day after\nthe Sabbath. The carrier, who was standing by waiting for his wage,\nreceived it thankfully. Now, Master, if you want another shoulder to\nhelp with that sealing stone, I can give it you. But Joseph, looking at\nthe stone, said it would offer no trouble to him, for he believed in his\nstrength to do it, though the carrier said: it looks as if two men, or\nmore like three, would be needed. But it is as you like, Master. On this\nhe went to his oxen, thinking of the Sabbath, and whether Joseph had\nforgotten how near it was to them. He hasn't blown out his lantern yet.\nMy word, he be going back into the tomb, the carrier said; maybe he's\nforgotten something, or maybe to have a last look at his friend. He\ntalks like one in a dream, or one that hadn't half recovered his wits.\n\nAnd it was just in the mood which the carrier divined that Joseph\nentered the tomb: life had been coming and going like a dream ever since\nhe met the masons; and asking himself if he were truly awake and in his\nseven senses, he returned to bid Jesus a last farewell, though he would\nnot have been astonished if he sought him in vain through the darkness\nfilled with the dust of freshly cut stones and the smell thereof. But\nJesus was where they had laid him; and Joseph sate himself by the dead\nMaster's side, so that he might meditate and come to see better into the\nmeanings of things, for all meaning seemed to have gone out of life for\nhim since he had come up from Jericho. The flickering shadows and lights\ndistracted his meditation, and set him thinking of the masons and their\npride in their work; he looked round the sepulchre and perceived it to\nbe a small chamber with a couch at the farther end.... Martha and Mary\nhave gone, he said to himself, and he remembered he had bidden them go\nhence to prepare spices, and to return after the Sabbath. Which they\nwill do as soon as the Sabbath is over, he repeated to himself, as if to\nconvince himself that he was not dreaming.... God did not save him in\nthe end as he expected he would, he continued: he'd have done better to\nhave given Pilate answers whereby Pilate would have been able to save\nhim from the cross. Pilate was anxious to save him, but, as Nicodemus\nsaid, Jesus had come to think that it had been decreed in heaven that\nhis blood must be spilt, so that he might rise again, as it were, out of\nhis own blood, to return in a chariot with his Father in three days....\nBut will he return to inhabit again this beautiful mould? Joseph asked,\nand striving against the doubt that the sight of the dead put into his\nmind, he left the tomb with the intention of rolling the stone into the\ndoor. Better not to see him than to doubt him, he said. But who will, he\nasked himself, roll away the stone for Martha and Mary when they come\nwith spices and fine linen for the embalming? His mind was divided\nwhether he should close the tomb and go his way, or watch through the\nSabbath, and while seeking to come upon a resolve he was overcome by\ndesire to see his dead friend once more, and he entered the tomb,\nholding high the lantern so that he might better see him. But as he\napproached the couch on which the body lay he stopped, and the colour\nwent out of his face; he trembled all over; for the sheet with which\nMartha and Mary covered over the face had fallen away, and a long tress\nof hair had dropped across the cheek. He must have moved, or angels must\nhave moved him, and, uncertain whether Jesus was alive or dead, Joseph\nremembered Lazarus, and stood watching, cold and frightened, waiting for\nsome movement.\n\nHe is not dead, he is not dead, he cried, and his joy died, for on the\ninstant Jesus passed again into the darkness of swoon. Joseph had no\nwater to bathe his forehead with, nor even a drop to wet his lips with.\nThere is none nearer than my house, he said. I shall have to carry him\nthither. But if a wayfarer meets us the news that a man newly risen from\nthe tomb was seen on the hillside with another will soon reach\nJerusalem; and the Pharisees will send soldiers.... The tomb will be\nviolated; the houses in the neighbourhood will be searched. Why then did\nhe awaken only to be taken again? Jesus lay as still as the dead, and\nhope came again to Joseph. On a Sabbath evening, he said, I shall be\nable to carry him to my house secretly. The distance is about\nhalf-a-mile. But to carry a swooning man half-a-mile up a crooked and\nsteep path among rocks will take all my strength.\n\nHe took cognisance of his thews and sinews, and feeling them to be\nstrong and like iron, he said: I can do it, and fell to thinking of his\nservants loitering in the passages, talking as they ascended the stairs,\nstopping half-way and talking again, and getting to bed slowly, more\nslowly than ever on this night, the night of all others that he wished\nthem sound asleep in their beds. Half-a-mile up a zigzagging path I\nshall have to carry him; he may die in my arms; and he entertained the\nthought for a moment that he might go for his servants, who would bring\nwith them oil and wine; but dismissing the thought as unwise, he left\nthe tomb to see if the darkness were thick enough to shelter himself and\nhis burden.\n\nBut Jesus might pass away in his swoon. If he had some water to give\nhim. But he had none, and he sat by the couch waiting for Jesus to open\nhis eyes. At last he opened them.\n\nThe twilight had vanished and the stars were coming out, and Joseph said\nto himself: there will be no moon, only a soft starlight, and he stood\ngazing at the desert showing through a great tide of blue shadow, the\nshape of the hills emerging, like the hulls of great ships afloat in a\nshadowy sea. A dark, close, dusty night, he said, and moonless, deserted\nby every man and woman; a Sabbath night. On none other would it be\npossible. But thinking that some hours would have to pass before he\ndared to enter his gates with Jesus on his shoulder, he seated himself\non the great stone. Though Jesus were to die for lack of succour he must\nwait till his servants were in bed asleep. And then? The stone on which\nhe was sitting must be rolled into the entrance of the tomb before\nleaving. He had told the carrier that he would have no trouble with it,\nand to discover that he had not boasted he slid down the rock, and,\nputting his shoulder to it, found he could move it, for the ground was\naslant, and if he were to remove some rubble the stone would itself roll\ninto the entrance of the tomb. But he hadn't known this when he refused\nthe carrier's help. Then why?... To pass away the time he fell to\nthinking that he had refused the carrier's aid because of some thought\nof which he wasn't very conscious at the time; that he had been\nappointed watcher, and that his watch extended through the night, and\nthrough the next day and night, until Mary and Martha came with spices\nand linen cloths.\n\nThe cycle of his thoughts was brought to a close and with a sudden jerk\nby some memory of his maybe dying friend; and in his grief he found no\nbetter solace than to gaze at the stars, now thickly sown in the sky,\nand to attempt to decipher their conjunctions and oppositions, trying to\npick out a prophecy in heaven of what was happening on earth.\n\nHis star-gazing was interrupted suddenly by a bark. A jackal, he said.\nOther jackals answered the first bark; the hillside seemed to be filled\nwith them; but, however numerous, he could scare them away; a wandering\nhyena scenting a dead body would be more dangerous, for he was\nweaponless. But it was seldom that one ventured into the environs of\nthe city; and he listened to the jackals, and they kept him awake till\nsomething in the air told him the hour had come for him to go into the\ntomb and carry Jesus out of it ... if he were not dead. He slid down\nfrom the rock again, and no sooner did he reach the ground than he\nremembered having left Galilee to keep his promise to his father; but,\ndespite his obedience to his father's will, had not escaped his fate. In\nvain he avoided the Temple and refused to enter the house of Simon the\nLeper.... If he were to take Jesus to his house and hide him he would\nbecome a party to Jesus' crime, and were Jesus discovered in his house\nthe angry Pharisees would demand their death from Pilate. If he would\nescape the doom of the cross he must roll the stone up into the entrance\nof the sepulchre.... A dying man perceives no difference between a\nsepulchre and a dwelling-house. He would be dead before morning; before\nthe Sabbath was done for certain; and Mary and Martha would begin the\nembalmment on Sunday. He would be dead certainly on Sunday morning, and\ndead men tell no tales, so they say. But do they say truly? The dead are\nvoiceless, but they speak, and are closer to us than the living; and for\never the spectre of that man would be by him, making frightful every\nhour of his life. Yet by closing up the sepulchre and leaving Jesus to\ndie in it he would be serving him better than by carrying him to his\nhouse and bringing him back to life. To what life was he bringing him?\nHe could not be kept hidden for long; he could not remain in Jerusalem,\nand whither Jesus went Joseph would follow, and his bond to his father\nwould be broken then in spirit as well as in fact. A cold sweat broke\nout on his forehead and for a long time his mind seemed like a broken\nthing and the pieces scattered; and as much exhausted as if he had\ncarried Jesus a mile on his shoulders, he stooped forward and entered\nthe tomb, without certain knowledge whether he was going to kiss Jesus\nand close the tomb upon him or carry him to his house about a\nhalf-an-hour distant.\n\nAs he drew the cere-cloths from the body, a vision of his house rose up\nin his mind--a large two-storeyed house with a domed roof, situated on a\nlarge vineyard on the eastern slopes of the Mount of Olives, screened\nfrom the highway by hedges of carob, olive garths and cedars. And this\nhouse seemed to Joseph as if designed by Providence for the concealment\nof Jesus. The only way, he muttered, will be to lift him upon my\nshoulders, getting the weight as far as I can from off my arms. If he\ncould walk a little supported on my arm. He questioned Jesus, but Jesus\ncould not answer him; and there seemed to be no other way but to carry\nhim in his arms out of the tomb, place him on the rock, and from thence\nhoist him on to his shoulders.\n\nJesus was carried more easily than he thought for, as easily carried as\na child for the first hundred yards, nor did he weigh much heavier for\nthe next, but before three hundred yards were over Joseph began to look\nround for a rock against which he might rest his burden.\n\nOne of the hardships of this journey was that howsoever he held Jesus he\nseemed to cause him great pain, and he guessed by the feel that the body\nwas wounded in many places; but the stars did not show sufficient light\nfor him to see where not to grasp it, and he sat in the pathway,\nresting Jesus across his knees, thinking of a large rock within sight of\nhis own gates and how he would lean Jesus against it, if he managed to\ncarry him so far. He stopped at sight of something, something seemed to\nslink through the pale, diffused shadows in and out of the rocks up the\nhillside, and Joseph thought of a midnight wolf. The wolves did not\nventure as near the city, but--Whatever Joseph saw with his eyes, or\nfancied he saw, did not appear again, and he picked up his load,\nthinking of the hopeless struggle it would be between him and a grey\nwolf burdened as he was. He could not do else than leave Jesus to be\neaten, and his fear of wolf and hyena so exhausted him that he nearly\ntoppled at the next halt. A fall would be fatal to Jesus, and Joseph\nasked himself how he would lift Jesus on to his shoulder again. He did\nnot think that he could manage it, but he did, and staggered to the\ngates; but no sooner had he laid his burden down than he remembered that\nhe could not ascend the stairs without noise. The gardener's cottage is\nempty; I will carry him thither. The very place, Joseph said, as he\npaused for breath by the gate-post. I must send away the two\nmen-servants, he continued, one to Galilee and the other to Jericho. The\ntruth cannot be kept from Esora. I need her help: I can depend upon her\nto cure Jesus of his wounds and keep the young girl in the house,\nforbidding her the garden while Jesus is in the cottage. The danger of\ndismissal would be too great, she would carry the story or part of it to\nJerusalem, it would spread like oil, and in a few days, in a few weeks\ncertainly, the Pharisees would be sending their agents to search the\nhouse. With Jesus hoisted on to his shoulder he followed the path\nthrough the trees round the shelving lawn and crossed the terrace at the\nbottom of the garden. He had then to follow a twisting path through a\nlittle wood, and he feared to bump Jesus against the trees. The path led\ndown into a dell, and he could hardly bear up so steep was the ascent;\nhis breath and strength were gone when he came to the cottage door.\n\nFortune seems to be with us, he said, as he carried Jesus through the\ndoorway, but he must have a bed, and fortune is still with us, they\nhaven't removed the bed; and as soon as Jesus was laid upon it he began\nto remember many things. He must go to the house and get a lamp, and in\nthe house he remembered that he must bring some wine and some water. He\nnoticed that his hand and his sleeve were stained with blood. He must\nhave been badly scourged, he said, and continued his search for bottles,\nand after mixing wine and water he returned to the gardener's cottage,\nhoping that casual ministrations would relieve Jesus of some of the pain\nhe was suffering till Esora would come with her more serious remedies in\nthe morning.\n\nHe put the lamp on a chair on the opposite side of the bed and turned\nJesus over and began to pick out of the wounds the splinters of the rods\nhe had been beaten with, and after binding up the back with a linen\ncloth he drew Jesus' head forward and managed to get him to swallow a\nlittle wine and water. I can do no more, he said, and must leave him....\nIt will be better to lock the door; he must bide there till I hear Esora\non the stairs coming down from her room. She is always out of bed first,\nand if luck is still with us she will rise early this morning.\n\nHe tried to check his thoughts, but they ran on till he remembered that\nhe must fetch the lantern forgotten among the rocks, and that he should\nfollow the twisting path up and down the hillside seemed more than he\ncould accomplish. Strength and will seemed to have departed from him;\nyet he must go back to fetch the lantern. He had left it lighted, and\nsome curious person might be led by the light ... the open sepulchre\nwould attract his eye, and he might take up the light and discover the\ntomb to be empty. It wasn't likely, but some such curious one might be\non the prowl. Now was the only safe time to fetch the lantern. He\ndaren't leave it.... At the first light Mary and Martha would be at the\nsepulchre, and the finding of a lantern by the door of the empty\nsepulchre would give rise to--\n\nHe passed through his gates, locking them after him, too weary to think\nfurther what might and might not befall.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XIX.\n\n\nAnd when he returned with the lantern he had forgotten he threw himself\non his bed, remembering that he must not sleep, for to miss Esora as she\ncame downstairs would mean to leave Jesus in pain longer than he need be\nleft. But sleep closed his eyelids. Sleep! He did not know if he had\nslept. The room was still quite dark, and Esora did not come down till\ndawn; and, sitting up in his bed, he said: God saved him from death, or\nraised him out of death, but he has not raised him yet into heaven. He\nis in the gardener's cottage! If only Esora can cure him of his wounds,\nhe continued, he and I might live together in this garden happily.\n\nHe closed his eyes so that he might enjoy his dream of Jesus'\ncompanionship, but fell into a deeper sleep, from which he was awakened\nby the sound of footsteps on the stairs. It is Esora trying to descend\nwithout awakening me, he said. But nobody was on the stairs, and he\nstood listening on the landing, asking himself if Esora was at work so\nearly. And then it seemed to him that he could hear somebody in her\npantry.... To make sure he descended and found her before her table\nbrushing the clothes he had thrown off. You must have been in my room\nand picked up my clothes without my hearing you, he said; it was not\ntill you were on the second flight of stairs that I awoke. I didn't know\nthat you rose so early, Esora. It is still dusk. And if I didn't,\nMaster, I don't know how the work would get done. But the Sabbath,\nJoseph rejoined; and incontinently began to discuss the observances of\nthe Sabbath with her. But even on the Sabbath there is work to be done,\nshe answered; your clothes--a nice state you brought them home in, and\nif they were not cleaned for you, you could not present yourself in the\nsynagogue to-day. But, Esora, Joseph answered faintly, I don't see why\nyou should be up and at work at this hour and that girl, Matred, still\nasleep. Does she never help you in your work? Esora muttered something\nthat Joseph did not hear, and in answer to his question why she did not\nrouse Matred from her bed she said that the young require more sleep\nthan the old; an answer that surprised Joseph, for he had never been\nable to rid himself of his first impression of Esora. He remembered when\nhe was a child how he hated her long nose, her long yellow neck and her\ndoleful voice always crying out against somebody, her son, her\nkitchen-maid, or Joseph himself. She used to turn him out of her kitchen\nand larder and dairy, saying that his place was upstairs, and once\nraised her hand to him; later she had complained to his father of his\nthefts; for he brought his dogs with him and stole the larder key and\ncut off pieces of meat for them, and very often dipped jars into the\npans of milk that were standing for cream. His father reproved him, and\nfrom that day he hated Esora, casting names at her, and playing many\npranks upon her until the day he tipped a kettle of boiling water over\nhis foot while running to scald the wasps in their nest--one of the\napes was stung; it was to avenge the sting he was running, and no one\nhad known how to relieve his suffering; his father had gone away for the\ndoctor, but Esora, as soon as she heard what had happened, came with her\nbalsam, and it subdued the pain almost miraculously.\n\nAfter his scalding Joseph brought all his troubles to her to be cured,\nconfiding to her care coughs, colds, and cut fingers; and, as she never\nfailed to relieve his pain, whatever it was, he began to look upon her\nwith respect and admiration. All the same something of his original\ndislike remained. He disliked her while he admired her, and his\nsuspicion was that she loved him more for his father's sake than for his\nown---- It was his father who sent her from Galilee to look after him.\nThere was no fault to find with her management, but he could not rid his\nmind of the belief that she was a hard task-mistress, and often fell to\npitying the servants under her supervision, yet here she was up at five\nwhile Matred lay drowsing. This testimony of her kind heart was\nagreeable to him, for he had need of all her kindness and sympathy that\nmorning--only with her help could Jesus be cured of his wounds and the\nstory of his escape from the cross he kept a secret. He was in her\nhands, and, confident of her loyalty to him, he told her that he had\nleft his door open because he wished to speak to her before the others\nwere out of bed.\n\nShe lifted her face till he saw her dim eyes, perhaps for the first\ntime: but ye haven't been in bed, and there be dust on thy garments, and\nblood upon thy hands and sleeves. Yes, Esora, my cloak is full of dust,\nand the blood on my sleeve is that of a man who lies wounded in the\ngardener's cottage belike to death. But thou canst cure him and wilt\nkeep the secret of his burial if we have to bury him in the garden. It\nmay be that some day I'll tell thee his story, but think now only how\nthou mayst relieve his suffering. Another time thou shalt hear\neverything; but now, Esora, understand nobody must know that a man is in\nthe gardener's cottage. It is a matter of life and death for us. I am\nhere to serve you, Master, and it matters not to me what his story may\nbe; but tell how he is wounded; are the wounds the clean wounds of the\nsword or the torn wounds of rods? If he have been scourged---- A cruel\nscourging it must have been, Joseph answered. Now, before we go, Esora,\nunderstand that I shall send the two men away, one to Galilee and one to\nJericho. Better both should go to Jericho, she said. I'd trust neither\nin Jerusalem. Let them go straight from here as soon as the Sabbath is\nover, the journey is shorter, and they'll be as well out of the way in\none country as in the other. Esora is wiser than I, Joseph thought, and\ntogether they shall go to Jericho, and with an important message. But to\nwhom? Not to Gaddi, who might come up to Jerusalem to see me. I'll send\na letter to Hazael, the Essene, and after having delivered the message\nthey can remain at the caravanserai in Jericho. Some excuse that will\nsatisfy Gaddi must be discovered, Esora. I shall find one later. Both\nthe men are now in bed, but if for some reason one of them should come\ndown to the gardener's cottage! It isn't likely, Esora answered. Not\nlikely, Joseph replied; but we must guard against anything. If thou\nknewest the risk! I'll lock the door of the passage leading to their\nrooms, and I'll do it at once. Give me the keys. She handed him the\nkeys, and, having locked the men in, he returned, saying: the wounded\nman, whom thou'lt cure, Esora, may be here for a month or more, and till\nhe leaves us thou must watch the girl and see she doesn't stray through\nthe garden. I can manage her, Esora answered. But now about the poor man\nwho is waiting for attendance in the gardener's cottage. What have ye\ndone for him, Master? I picked from his back the splinters I could see\nby the light of the lamp, and gave him some wine and water, and laid him\non a linen cloth. The old woman muttered that the drawing of the cloth\nfrom the wound would be very painful. I dare say it will, Joseph\nreturned, but I knew not what else to do, and it seemed to relieve him.\nCan you help him, Esora? Yes, I can; and she began telling him of her\nown famous balsam, the secret of which was imparted to her by her\nmother, who had it from her mother; and her great-grandmother learnt it\nfrom an Arabian. But knowledge of the balsam went back to the Queen of\nSheba, who brought the plant to King Solomon. Thou must have seen the\nbush in the garden in Galilee. It throws a white flower, like the\nacacia, and the juice when drawn passes through many colours, honey\ncolour and then green. The Egyptians use it for many sicknesses, and it\nheals wounds magically. The sweet liquor pours from cuts in the\nbranches, and care must be taken not to wound them too sorely. This\nplant fears the sword, for it heals sword wounds, so the cuts in the\ntree are best made with a sharp flint or shell, these being holier than\nsteel. If thou hast missed the bush in Magdala, Master, thou must have\nseen it in Jericho, for I brought some seeds from Galilee to Jericho and\nplanted them by the gardener's cottage. Esora, all that thou tellest me\nabout the balsam is marvellous. I could listen to thee for hours, and\nthou'lt tell me about thy grandmother and the Arabian who taught her how\nto gather the juice of the plant, but we must be thinking now of my\nfriend's agony. Hast any of thy balsam ready, or must thou go to Jericho\nfor the juice?--you draw the juice from the tree? No, Master, Esora\nanswered him, I have here in my press a jar of the balsam, and, going to\nher press, she held the jar to Joseph, who saw a white, milky liquid,\nand after smelling and liking its sweet smell he said: let us go at\nonce. But thou mustn't hurry me, Master; I'm collecting bandages of fine\nlinen and getting this kettle of water to boil; for this I learnt from a\nman who learnt it from the best surgeons in Rome: that freshly boiled\nwater holds no more the humours that make wounds fructify, and if boiled\nlong enough the humours fall to the bottom. I strain them off, and let\nthe water cool. Thou mustn't hurry me; what I do, I do well, and at my\nown pace; and I'll not touch a wound with unclean things. Now I'll get\nsome oil. Some hold Denbalassa is best mixed with oil, but I pour oil\nupon the balm after I have laid it on the wound, and by this means it\nwill stick less when it is removed. But is thy friend a patient man?\nWounds from scourging heal slowly; the flesh is bruised and many humours\nmust come away; wounds from rods are not like the clean cut of a sword,\nwhich will heal under the balm when the edges have been brought together\ncarefully, so that no man can find the place. This balm will cure all\nkinds of coughs, and will disperse bile as many a time I have found.\nSome will wash a wound with wine and water, but I hold it heats the\nblood about the wound and so increases the making of fresh humours. Now,\nMaster, take up the pot of water and see that ye hold it steady. I'll\ncarry the basket containing the oil and the balm.... It was the Queen of\nSheba who first made the balm known, because she gave it to Solomon. But\nwe must keep the flies from him; and while I'm getting these things go\nto him and take with thee a fine linen cloth; thou'lt find some pieces\nin that cupboard, and a hammer and some nails. I'm thinking there are\nfew flies in the gardener's cottage, half of it being underground; but\nhasten and nail up the linen cloth over the window, for the first sun\nray will awaken any that are in the cottage, and, if there aren't any,\nflies will come streaming in from the garden as soon as the light comes,\nfollowing the scent of blood. No, not there, a little to the right, he\nheard her crying, and, finding a piece of linen and a hammer and some\nnails, he went out into the greyness still undisturbed by the chirrup of\na half-awakened bird.\n\nOn either side of the shelving lawn or interspace were woods, the\nremains of an ancient forest that had once covered this hillside; paths\nwound sinuously through the woods, and, taking the one he had followed\novernight, he passed under sycamore boughs, through some woodland to the\nterrace that he had crossed last night with a naked man on his\nshoulders. And he remembered how hard it had been to keep to the path\novernight, and how fortunate it was that the gardener's cottage was not\nlocked, for if he had had to lay Jesus down he would never have been\nable to lift him up again on to his shoulder. He had done all he could\nto relieve his suffering. But Jesus, he said to himself, is lying in\nagony, and if he has regained consciousness he may believe himself\nburied alive. I must hasten. Yet when he arrived at the cottage he did\nnot enter it at once, but stood outside listening to the moans of the\nwounded man within, which were good to hear in this much that they were\nan assurance that he was still alive. At last he pushed the door open\nand found Jesus moving his head from side to side, unable to rid himself\nof a fly that was crawling about his mouth. Joseph drove it away and\ngave Jesus some more weak wine and water, which seemed to soothe him,\nand feeling he could do no more he sat down by the bedside to wait for\nEsora. A few minutes after he heard her steps and she came into the\ncottage with balsam and bandages in a basket, divining before any\nexamination Jesus' state. He is in a bad way; you've given him wine and\nwater, but he'll need something stronger, and, taking a bottle from her\nbasket, she lifted Jesus' head so that he might drink from it. It will\nhelp him to bear the pain of the dressing, she said. Now, Master, will\nyou roll him over on to his side, so that I may see his back. The pain,\nshe said, looking up, when we remove this cloth on which you have laid\nhim will almost kill him, but we must get it off. The water with which\nI'll cleanse the wound, you'll find it in that basket: it is cool enough\nnow to use. Take him by the wrists and pull him forward, keeping him in\na sitting position. Which Joseph did, Esora washing his back the while\nand removing the splinters that Joseph missed overnight. And, taking\npleasure in her ministrations, she steeped a piece of linen in the balm,\nand over the medicated linen laid a linen pad, rolling a bandage round\nthe chest; and the skill with which she wound it surprised Joseph and\npersuaded him that the worst was over and there was no cause for further\nfear, a confidence Esora did not share. He'll rest easier, she said, and\nwill suffer no pain at the next dressing; for the oil will prevent the\nbalm from sticking. We can roll him on his back now, and without asking\nany question she dressed his hands and feet.\n\nJoseph thanked her inwardly for her reticence, and he nailed up the fine\nlinen cloth before the window, saying: now he is secure from the flies.\nBut one or two have got in already, Esora answered, and one or two will\ntrouble the sick man as much as a hundred. We can't leave him alone;\none of us must watch by his side; for he is still delirious and knows\nnot yet what has befallen him nor where he is. If he were to return to\nclear reason and find the door locked he might lose his reason for good\nand all, and if we left the door open he might run out into the garden.\nIt isn't safe to leave him.\n\nAnd perceiving all she said to be sound sense, Joseph took counsel with\nher, and his resolve was that the two men-servants should remain in\ntheir house till the sunset That I should send them away to Jericho on\nmy own horses will surprise them, he said to himself, but that can't be\naltered. A long, weary day lies before us, Esora, and we shall have to\ntake it in turns, and neither can be away for more than two hours at a\ntime from the house. Matred will be asking for instructions whether she\nis to feed the poultry or to kill a chicken. Though it be the Sabbath,\nshe'll find reasons to be about because we would have her indoors. And\nwhen I'm watching by the sick man, Esora returned, she'll be asking:\nwhere, Master, is Esora? Thou'lt have to invent excuses. We've forgotten\nthe servants, Esora. Give me the key. I must run with it and unlock the\ndoor of the passage. Do you wait here till I return.\n\nHe hoped to find his servants asleep, and his hopes were fulfilled; and\nafter rousing them with vigorous reproof for their laziness, he\ndescended the stairs, thinking of the letter he would devise for them to\ncarry to Jericho. These men, Sarea and Asiel, were his peril. Once they\nwere away on their journey to Jericho he would feel easier. But all\nthese hours I shall suffer, he said. But, Master, they know the cottage\nto be empty. One never can think, my good Esora, whither idle men will\nbe wandering, and the risk is great. Having gone so far we must have\ncourage, Esora answered. Now give me the key, and I'll lock myself in\nwith him; we'll take it in turns, and the day will not be as long\npassing as you think for. It is now six o'clock, he answered: twelve\nhours will have to pass away before the men start for Jericho. And then\nthe night will be before us, replied Esora. I hadn't thought of the\nnight, Joseph answered, and she reminded him that it might be days\nbefore his friend, who had been scourged, could recover sufficiently for\nhim to leave. For he won't always remain here, she added. No! no! Joseph\nreplied, and gave her the key of the cottage, and returned to the house\nto tell Sarea and Asiel that he hoped they would remain indoors during\nthe Sabbath, for he wished them to start for Jericho as soon as the\nSabbath was over. They shall ride my horses, he said to himself, and\nbear letters that will detain them in Jericho for some weeks, and if\nJesus be not well enough to leave me, another letter will delay their\nreturn. It can be so arranged, with a little luck on our side!\n\nThe lantern suddenly flashed into his mind. He had left it on the table\nin his room and Esora would see it. But why shouldn't she see the\nlantern? The centurion and the carrier and Martha and Mary all knew that\nhe had brought from Jerusalem a sheet in which to wrap the body of\nJesus, and a lantern to light their way into the tomb. It would be in\nagreement with what he had already said to tell that he brought the\nlantern back with him, nor would it have mattered if he had not returned\nto the tomb to fetch the lantern. The lantern would not cast any\nsuspicion upon him. But he had done well to refrain from closing the\nsepulchre with the stone, for the story of the resurrection would rise\nout of the empty tomb, and though there were many among the Jews who\nwould not believe the story, few would have the courage to inquire into\nthe truth of a miracle.\n\nA faint smile gathered on his lips, and he began to wonder what the\nexpression would be on the faces of Martha and Mary when they came to\nhim on the morrow with the news that Jesus had risen from the dead.\n\n\n\nCHAP. XX.\n\n\nHe said to himself that they would start at dawn, and getting to the\nsepulchre soon after three, and finding it empty, would come running to\nhim, and, so that himself might open the gate to them, he ordered his\nwatch (it should have ended by midnight) to continue till four o'clock.\nAnd, sitting by the sick man's side, he listened expectant for the hush\nthat comes at the end of night. At last it fell upon his ear. The women\nare on their way to the sepulchre, he said, and in about an hour and a\nhalf I'll hear the bell clang. But the bell clanged sooner than he\nthought for; and so impatient was he to see them that he did not\nremember to draw his cloak about him as if he were only half dressed (a\nnecessary thing to do if he were to deceive them) till he was in the\nmiddle of the garden. But feigning of disordered raiment was vanity, for\nthe women were too troubled to notice that he had not kept them waiting\nlong enough to testify of any sudden rousing from his bed, and began to\ncry aloud as he approached: he has risen, he has risen from the dead as\nhe promised us. Joseph came towards them yawning, as if his sleep were\nnot yet dispersed sufficiently for him to comprehend them; and he let\nthem through the gate, inviting them into his house; but they cried:\nhe's risen from the dead. The sepulchre is empty, Mary cried,\nanticipating her sister's words, and we have come to you for counsel.\nAre we to tell what we have seen? Seen! said Joseph. Forthwith both\nbegan to babble about a young man in a white raiment. His counsel to\nthem was neither to spread the news nor to conceal it. Let the apostles,\nhe began--but Martha interrupted him, saying: they are all in hiding, in\ngreat fear of the Pharisees, who have power over Pilate, and he will\ncondemn them all to the cross, so they say, if they do not escape at\nonce into Galilee. But since we can vouch that we found the stone rolled\naway and a young man in white garments in the sepulchre, we are\nuncertain that they may not take courage and delay their departure, for\nthey can no longer doubt the second coming of the Lord in his chariot of\nfire by the side of his Father, the Judgment Book upon his lap. Those\nthat have already gone will return, Mary answered; and our testimony\nwill cause the wicked Pharisees to repent before it be too late. His\nwords were that his blood was the means whereby we might rise into\neverlasting life.\n\nMartha then broke in with much discourse, which Joseph interrupted with\na question: had the young man they saw in the tomb spoken to them? The\nsisters were taken aback, and stood asking each other what he said,\nMartha saying one thing and Mary another; and so bewildered were they\nthat Joseph bade them return to Bethany and relate to Lazarus, and any\nothers of their company they might meet, all they had seen and heard: if\nyou've heard anything, he added. Then thou believest Jesus to be risen\nfrom the dead, they cried through the bars as he locked the gates. Yes,\nI believe that Jesus lives. Will he return to us? Martha cried; and\nJoseph as he crossed the garden heard Mary crying through the dusk:\nshall we see him again? A fine story they'll relate, one which will not\ngrow smaller as it passes from mouth to mouth. Sooner or later it will\nreach Pilate, and Pilate's first thought will be: the centurion told me\nthat Jesus died on the cross after three hours; and I believed him,\nthough it was outside of all reason to suppose the cross could kill a\nman in three hours. But if the Pharisees should go to Pilate and say to\nhim: the rumour is about that Jesus has risen from the dead. Will you,\nPilate, cause a search to be made from house to house? Pilate would\nanswer that the law had been fulfilled, and that the testimony of his\ncenturion was sufficient; for he hated the Pharisees and would refuse\nany other answer; but Pilate might send for him, Joseph; and Joseph fell\nto wondering at the answers he would make to Pilate, and at the\nduplicity of these, for he had never suspected himself of cunning. But\ncircumstances make the man, he said, and before Jesus passes out of my\nkeeping I shall have learnt to speak even as he did in double meanings.\n\nHe lay down to sleep, and when he rose it was time to go to help Esora\nto change the bandages, and while they were busy unwinding them (it was\ntowards the end of the afternoon) they were interrupted suddenly in\ntheir work by Matred's voice in the garden calling: Esora, where are\nyou? and, not getting an answer from Esora, she cried: Master! Master! A\nmoment after her voice came from a different part of the garden, and\nJoseph said to Esora: she'll be knocking at the door in another minute;\nshe mustn't come hither. Go and meet her, Esora, and as soon as the\ngirl is safe come back to me. It shall be as thou sayest, Master; but\nmeanwhile hold the man forward; let him not fall back upon the pillow,\nfor it will stick there and my work will be undone. To which Joseph\nobeyed, himself quaking lest the Pharisees had come in search of Jesus,\nsaying to himself: the Pharisees might be persuaded that Jesus is risen\nfrom the dead, but the Sadducees do not believe in the resurrection.\nWhat answer shall I give to them?\n\nAt last he heard Esora's voice outside: fear nothing, Master, for\nfriends have come; one named Cleophas and another are here with a story\nof a miracle, and, unable to rid myself of them without rudeness, I\nasked them into the house, saying that you had business (meaning that we\nmust finish dressing this poor man's wounds), but as soon as your\nbusiness was finished you would go to meet them. You spoke as you should\nhave spoken, Joseph answered her, and went towards the house certain and\nsure that they too came to tell Jesus' resurrection; and the moment he\nentered it and saw his guests, their faces and demeanour told him that\nhe guessed rightly. Leaning towards them over the table familiarly, so\nas to help them to narrate simply, he heard Cleophas, whom the friend\nelected as spokesman, say they heard Martha and Mary telling they had\nfound the stone rolled away, and a young man in white raiment seated\nwhere Jesus was overnight, and from him they had learnt that he whom\nthey sought was risen from the dead. So we said to one another: if he\nsent an angel to tell these women of his resurrection he will not forget\nus, for we loved him; and in hopes of getting news of him in the\ncountry, and that we might better think of him, we agreed to walk\ntogether to Emmaus; for when a man is sad he likes to be with another\none who may share his sadness, and Khuza and I have always loved the\nsame Jesus of Nazareth.\n\nWe walked sadly, without speech, indulging in recollections of Jesus,\nand were half-way on our journey when a wayfarer approached us and asked\nus the cause of our grief. We asked him in reply if he were the only one\nin Jerusalem that had not heard speak of Jesus of Nazareth, a great\nprophet before God and the people. Do you not know that our priests and\nour rulers condemned him who we hoped would deliver Israel and to-day is\nthe third day since all that has befallen? Some women of our company\ntold us this morning that they had been to the sepulchre at daybreak and\nfound nobody, but had seen angels, who told them that he lived; and then\nothers of our company went to the sepulchre and they found that the\nwomen spoke truthfully; the tomb was empty of all but the cere-cloths.\nSo did we tell the story to the wayfarer, who then asked us whither our\nway was, and we told him to Emmaus, and that our hope was our Master\nmight send an angel to us with news of himself. It was with that hope\nthat we left the city. And your way, honoured Sir? and he answered me,\nto Emmaus, and perceiving him as we walked thither to be a pious man,\nand more learned than ourselves in the Scriptures, we begged him to\nremain with us. He seemed averse, as if he had business farther on, but\nmyself and my friend here, Khuza, persuaded him to stay and sup with us,\nso that we might tell our memories of him that was gone. But he seemed\nto know all we related to him of Jesus, interrupting us often with: as\nwas foretold in the Scriptures, giving us chapter and verse; and\nenlivened by a glass of good wine, he spoke to us of the fruit of the\nvine which Jesus would drink with us in the Kingdom of his Father; and\nhe broke bread and shared it with us, as it was meet that the head of\nthe house should, and the gesture with which he broke it is one of our\nmemories of Jesus. We fell to dreaming ourselves back in Galilee, and\nthe intonations of Jesus' voice and the faces of the apostles were all\nremembered by us. We don't know for how long we dreamed, but when our\neyes were opened to reality again we saw that our friend, who was\nanxious to continue his journey, had risen and gone away without bidding\nus good-bye, belike not wishing to disturb the current of our\nrecollections. Did we not feel something strange while he was with us?\nmy friend asked me, so to my friend here I put the question: did not our\nhearts burn while he spoke to us on the road hither? and I cited\nprophecies that were testimony that the Messiah must suffer before he\nentered into glory. And Khuza answered: did you not recognise him,\nCleophas, by the way in which he broke bread? Now you speak of it, I\nreplied--\n\nOur eyes that had not seen saw, and we knew that Jesus had been with us,\nand hurried to Jerusalem to tell the apostles that we had seen him. But\ntheir hearts are hard and narrow and dry, as Jesus himself well knew,\nand as he said would be evinced at the striking of the hour, and when we\ntold Peter that Martha and Mary had been to the sepulchre and found the\nstone rolled away he answered: I too have visited the sepulchre and saw\nnothing. It was open, but I saw no young man sitting in white raiment,\nnor did an angel greet me. John said: three days have now passed away\nsince he was put on the cross, and in three days he was to have returned\nin a chariot of fire by the side of his Father and made a great Kingdom\nof happiness and peace in this country. But he hasn't come; he has\ndeceived us and put our lives in jeopardy, for if the Pharisees find us\nhere they'll bring us before Pilate, who is a man without mercy, and\neleven more will hang on crosses.\n\nSalome, mother of John and James, too, got in her word and railed\nagainst Jesus for having brought them all from Galilee for naught. John\nand James, he promised me, were to sit on either side of him in Kingdom\nCome. Whereupon Peter said: thou liest, woman. I was to sit on his right\nhand. And while these disciples disputed on Jesus' words Bartholomew\npraised Judas, who had withdrawn as soon as Jesus began to talk of the\nangels that would surround the chariot. Thomas reproved Bartholomew,\nsaying that Jesus never said that there would be angels; and they all\nbegan to wrangle, asking each other how many angels would be required to\nmatch a Roman legion. Nor were they sure that Jesus said he was God's\nown son, and equal to God; at which many were scandalised and turned\naway their faces; nor could they say that they had not desired to find a\ngod in him on account of the chairs. I'm not speaking of James and John.\nAnd then the ugly twain turned upon us, saying that we--myself and\nKhuza--were but disciples and could baptize with water, but not with the\nholy breath, which was reserved for the apostles; nor with fire. At his\nwords the lightning flashed into the room, and John said: we are in the\nmidst of a great miracle--the baptism by fire of the apostles. And when\nthe storm ceased they were all mixed in a dispute about the imposition\nof hands; of this right they were the inheritors, so they said, and all\nwere resolved to practise it as soon as they got back to Galilee, from\nwhence they had foolishly strayed, abandoning their boats and nets. On\nthe morrow they would return thither and pray that the Lord, who is the\nonly god of Israel, would forgive them and send them a great draught of\nfish, which they hoped your father, Sir, would pay for at more than\nordinary price to recompense them for what they lost by following the\nMaster hither.\n\nJoseph would have asked him if Nathaniel and Thomas and Bartholomew\ndenied Jesus as well as Peter and James and John: if there was not one\namong the eleven that had faith that he might return. But prudence\nrestrained him from putting needless questions, for Cleophas was\nloquacious, and he had only to listen to hear that Peter and James and\nJohn were eager that it should be known that they no longer believed\nJesus to be the true Messiah that the Jews were waiting for. It is said,\nKhuza interrupted, becoming suddenly talkative in his turn, it is said\nthat they are afraid lest the agents of the Pharisees should discover\nthem. Many left for Galilee on the Friday evening, and in three days the\nfishers he brought hither will be letting down their nets again and the\npublican Matthew will start on his round asking for the taxes. All will\nbe--\n\nBut, said Joseph, whose thoughts had gone back to the great draught of\nfish which Peter and John hoped his father would pay for above the usual\nprice so that they might be recompensed for their journey to Jerusalem,\nyou did not come to me to pray me to write to my father that he may\npunish the apostles for their lack of faith by refusing to buy their\nfish? No, it wasn't for that we came hither, Khuza answered quickly, and\nCleophas looked at him, wondering if he would have the courage to put\ninto words the cause of their visit. We thought that because Pilate had\ngiven the body of Jesus to you to lay in your sepulchre, and as you were\nthe last to see him, you might come into Jerusalem with us and declare\nthe miracle to the people. You see, Sir, Martha and Mary have testified\nto the rolling back of the stone, and no more is needed than your word\nfor all to believe. Joseph looked in their faces for some moments,\nunable to reply to them; and then, collecting his thoughts as he spoke,\nhe impressed upon Cleophas and Khuza that for him to go down to\nJerusalem and proclaim his belief in the resurrection would only anger\nthe Pharisees and give rise to further persecutions. It will be better,\nhe said, to let the truth leak out and convince men naturally, without\nsuspicion that we are attempting to deceive them with testimony which\ntheir hearts are already hardened against. This answer, which showed a\nknowledge of men that Joseph did not know he possessed, satisfied both\nCleophas and Khuza, and perceiving that they were detaining Joseph they\nrose to go. On the way to the gate Joseph's words lighted up in their\nminds: he said it would be not well for him to go down to Jerusalem and\nproclaim his belief in the resurrection; therefore he believed in the\nresurrection, and, unable to restrain his curiosity, Khuza besought him\nto answer if Jesus ever said that it would be his corruptible body or a\nspiritual body (a sort of spirit of sense) that would ascend. It could\nnot be the fleshy body which eats and drinks and passes soil and water,\nfor unless there be in heaven corners where one can loosen one's belt\nthe body would be gravely incommoded; and he began to argue, placing his\nfoot so that Joseph could not close the gate, saying that if the\ncorruptible body had not ascended into heaven it must be upon earth. But\nwhere--\n\nJoseph's cheek paled, and Cleophas, noticing the pallor and interpreting\nit to mean Joseph's anger against his friend for his insistence in\nputting questions which Joseph could not answer--for had he not rolled\nup the stone of the sepulchre and sealed it and gone his way?--took his\nfriend by the arm and said: we must leave Joseph of Arimathea some time\nto attend to his business. We are detaining him. Come, Khuza, we are\ntrespassing on his time. Joseph smiled in acquiescence; but Khuza, who\nwas still anxious to learn how many Roman soldiers equalled one angel,\nhung on until Joseph's patience ran dry. At last Cleophas got him away,\nand no sooner were their backs turned than Joseph forgot them completely\nas if they had never been: for Esora had said that she hoped to be able\nto get Jesus to swallow a little soup, and he hastened his steps,\nanxious to know if she had succeeded.\n\nI got him to swallow two or three spoonfuls, she said, and they seem to\nhave done him good. Dost think he seems to be resting easier? Yes; but\nthe fever hasn't left him. His brain is still clouded and feeble. This\nis but the third day, she replied. Truthfully I can say that I've never\nseen any man scourged like this one. It is more than the customary\nscourging; the executioners must have gotten an extra fee. As she had\nseen men crucified in Tiberias and C\u00e6sarea, he asked her if it were\ncommon for the crucified to live after being lifted from the cross.\nThose that haven't been on the cross more than two days are brought back\nfrequently, but the third day ends them, so great are the pains in the\nhead and heart. But I knew one--and she began to relate the almost\nmiraculous recovery of a man who had been on the cross for nearly three\ndays, and had been brought back by strong remedies to live to a good old\nage. But none die on the first day? Joseph said, and Esora answered that\nshe never heard of anyone that died so quickly; without, however, asking\nJoseph if the man before them had been lifted down from the cross the\nfirst, second or third day.\n\nHe expected her to ask him if Cleophas had come to warn him that\ninquiries were on foot regarding the disappearance of the body of one of\nthe crucified, but she asked no questions, and he knew not whether she\nrefrained from discretion or because her interest in things was dying.\nNot dying but dead, he said to himself as he scanned the years that her\nface and figure manifested, and judged them to be eighty.\n\nNow Esora, I'll go and lie down for a little while, and lest I should\noversleep myself I'll tell the girl to call me. But how shall I\nrecompense thee for this care, Esora? I am too old, Master, to hope for\nanything but your pleasure, she answered, and when he returned she told\nhim that Jesus was fallen into another swoon, and they began talking of\nthe sick man. His mind wanders up and down Galilee, she said. And now\nI'll leave you to him. I've that girl on my mind. And while Jesus slept,\nJoseph pondered on the extraordinary adventure that he found himself on,\ngiving thanks to God for having chosen him as the humble instrument of\nhis will.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXI.\n\n\nIt was after she had persuaded him to take a little soup, which he did\nwith some show of appetite, that Esora began to think she might save\nhim: if his strength does not die away, she said. But will it? Joseph\ninquired. Not if he continues to take food, she replied; and two hours\nlater she returned to the bedside to feed him again, and for a few\nseconds he was roused from his lethargy; but it was not till the seventh\nday that his eyes seemed to ask: who art thou, and who am I? And how\ncame I hither? Thou'rt Jesus of Nazareth, and I am Joseph of Arimathea,\nwhom thou knewest in Galilee, and it was I that brought thee hither, but\nmore than that I dare not tell lest too much story should fatigue thy\nbrain. I do not remember coming here. Where am I? Is this a holy place?\nWas a prophet ever taken away to heaven from here? Afraid to perplex the\nsick man, Joseph answered that he never heard that anything of the sort\nhad happened lately. But thou canst tell me, Jesus continued, why\nthou'rt here? Thou'rt the rich man's son. Ah, yes, and my sorrow for\nsome wrong done to thee brought thee hither. His eyelids fell over his\neyes, and a few minutes afterwards he opened them, and after looking at\nJoseph repeated: my sorrow brought thee here; and still in doubt as to\nwhat answer he should make, Joseph asked him if he were glad he was by\nhim. Very glad, he said, and strove to take Joseph's hand. But my hand\npains me, and the other hand likewise; my feet too; my forehead; my\nback; I am all pain. Thou must have patience, Esora broke in, and the\npain will pass away. Who is that woman? A leper, or one suffering from a\nflux of blood? Tell her I cannot impose my hands and cast out the wicked\ndemon that afflicts her. He mustn't be allowed to talk, Esora said; he\nmust rest. And on these words he seemed to sink into a lethargy. Has he\nfallen asleep again? It is sleep or lethargy, she answered, and they\nwent to the door of the cottage, and, leaning against the lintels, stood\nbalancing the chances of the sick man's recovery.\n\nWe can do no more, she said, than we are doing. We must put our trust in\nmy balsam and give him food as often as he'll take it from us. Which\nthey did day after day, relieving each other's watches, and standing\nover Jesus' bed conferring together, wondering if he cared to live or\nwould prefer that they suffered him to die....\n\nFor many days he lay like a piece of wreckage, and it was not till the\nseventh day that he seemed to rouse a little out of his lethargy, or his\nindifference--they knew not which it was. In answer to Esora he said he\nfelt easier, and would be glad if they would wheel his bed nearer to the\ndoor. Outside is the garden, he whispered, for I see boughs waving, and\ncan hear the bees. Wilt thou let me go into the garden? As soon as I've\nremoved the dressing thou shalt have a look into the garden, Esora\nreplied, and she called upon Joseph to pull Jesus forward. All this, she\nsaid, was raw flesh a week ago, and now the scab is coming away nicely;\nyou see the new skin my balsam is bringing up. His feet, too, are\nhealing, Joseph observed, and look as if he will be able to stand upon\nthem in another few days. Wounds do not heal as quickly as that, Master.\nThou must have patience. But he'll be wanting a pair of crutches very\nsoon. We might send to Jerusalem for a pair. There is no need to send to\nJerusalem, he answered. I think I'd like to make him a pair. Anybody can\nmake a pair of crutches, however poor a carpenter he may be; and every\nevening as soon as his watch was over he repaired to the wood-shed. They\nwon't be much to look at, Esora reflected, but that won't matter, if he\ngets them the right length, and strong.\n\nCome and see them, he said to her one evening, and when she had admired\nhis handiwork sufficiently he said: tell me, Esora, is a man's mind the\nsame after scourging and crucifixion as it was before? Esora shook her\nhead. I suppose not, Joseph continued, for our minds draw their lives\nfrom our bodies. He'll be a different man if he comes up from his\nsickness. But he may live to be as old as I am, or the patriarchs, she\nreturned. With a different mind, he added. So I've lost him in life whom\nI saved from death.\n\nEsora did not ask any questions, and fearing that her master might tell\nher things he might afterwards regret having said, she remarked that\nJesus would be needing the crutches in about another week.\n\nAnd it was in or about that time, not finding Jesus in the cottage, they\ncame down the pathway in great alarm, to be brought to a sudden stop by\nthe sight of Jesus sitting under the cedars. How did he get there? Esora\ncried, for the crutches were in the wood-shed. They were, Esora, but I\ntook them down to the cottage last night, and seeing them, and finding\nthey fitted him, he has hobbled to the terrace. But he mustn't hobble\nabout where he pleases, Esora said. He is a sick man and in our charge,\nand if he doesn't obey us he may fall back again into sickness. The\nbones have not properly set---- We don't know that any bones were\nbroken, do we, Esora? We don't; for the nails may have pierced the feet\nand hands without breaking any. But, Master, look! Didst ever see such\nimprudence? Go! drive away my cat, or else my work will be undone.\n\nHer cat, large, strong and supple as a tiger, had advanced from the\nopposite wood, and, unmindful of a bitch and her puppies, seated himself\nin the middle of the terrace. As he sat tidying his coat the puppies\nconceived the foolish idea of a gambol with him. The cat continued to\nlick himself, though no doubt fully aware of the puppies' intention, and\nit was not till they were almost on him that he rose, hackle erect, to\nmeet the onset in which they would have been torn badly if Jesus had not\nhopped hastily forward and menaced him with his crutches. Even then the\npuppies, unmindful of the danger, continued to dance round the cat. You\nlittle fools, he will have your eyes, Jesus cried, and he caught them up\nin his arms, but unable to manage them and his crutches together, he\ndropped the crutches and started to get back to his seat without them.\n\nIt was this last imprudence that compelled Esora to cry out to Joseph\nthat her work would be undone if Joseph did not run at once to Jesus and\ngive him his crutches: now, Master, I hope ye told him he must leave\ncats and dogs alone, she said as soon as Joseph returned to her. If he\ndoesn't we shall have him on our hands all the winter. All the winter!\nJoseph repeated. It is for thee to say, Master, how long he is to stay\nhere; three weeks, till he is fit to travel, or all the winter, it is\nfor you to say. Fit to travel, Joseph repeated. Why should he leave when\nhe is fit to travel? he asked. Only, Master, because it will be hard to\nkeep him in hiding much longer. Secrets take a long time to leak out,\nbut they leak out in the end. But I may be wrong, Master, in thinking\nthat there is a secret. I hardly know anything about this man, only that\nthou broughtest him back one night. So thou'rt not certain then that\nthere is a secret, Esora? Joseph said. I won't say that, Master, for I\ncan see by his back that he has been scourged, and cruelly, she\nanswered. His hands and feet testify that he has been on the cross.\nTherefore, Joseph interposed, thou judgest him to be a malefactor of\nsome sort. Master, I would judge no one. He is what thou choosest to\ntell me he is. Come then, Esora, Joseph replied, and I will tell thee\nhis story and mine, for our stories have been strangely interwoven. But\nthe telling will take some time. Come, let us sit in the shade of the\nacacia-trees yonder; there is a seat there, and we shall be in view of\nour sick man, ready to attend upon him should he require our attention.\n\nShe sat listening, immovable, like a figure of stone, her hands hanging\nover her knees. And when he told how Jesus opened his eyes in the tomb,\nand how he carried him through the rocks, seeking perhaps to astonish\nher a little by his account of the darkness, and the wild beasts, he\nsaid: now tell me, Esora, if I could have done else but bring him here\non my shoulders. True it is that Pilate believed he was giving me not a\nlive but a dead body; but Pilate wouldn't expect me to go to him with\nthe tidings that Jesus was not dead, and that he might have him back to\nhoist on to a cross again. Pilate did not want to give him up for\ncrucifixion. He found no fault with him. Dost understand, Esora? I\nunderstand very well, Master, that Pilate would think thee but a false\nfriend if you had acted differently. He would not have thanked thee if\nthou hadst brought back this man to him. But, Esora, thy face wears a\npuzzled look. One thing puzzles me, she answered, for I cannot think\nwhat could have put it into his head that he was sent into the world to\nsuffer for others. For are we not all suffering for others?\n\nThe simplicity of her question took Joseph aback, and he replied: I\nsuppose thou'rt right in a way, Esora. Thou hast no doubt suffered for\nthy parents; I have suffered for my father. I left Galilee to keep my\npromise not to see Jesus; when I heard he was going to ride into\nJerusalem in triumph on an ass from Bethany I ran away to Jericho. Could\na man do more to keep his promise? But it was of no avail, for we may\nnot change in our little lives the fate we were branded with a thousand\nyears before we were born.\n\nThou'rt of one mind with me, Esora, that I couldn't have left him to die\nin the sepulchre? Thou couldst not have done such a thing and remained\nthyself; and it was God that gave you those fine broad shoulders for the\nburden. I saw thee a baby, and thou hast grown into a fine image like\nthose they've put up to C\u00e6sar in Tiberias; and then, as if abashed by\nher familiarity, she began: Master, I wouldn't wish him to return to\nJerusalem, for they would put him on the cross again, but he had better\nleave Judea. Art thou weary, Esora, of attendance on him? Joseph asked,\nand the servant answered: have I ever shown, Master, that I found\nattendance on him wearisome? He is so gentle and patient that it is a\npleasure to attend on him, and an honour, for one feels him to be a\ngreat man. The highest I have met among men, Joseph interposed, and I\nhave searched diligently, wishing always to worship the best on earth.\nHe is that, and maybe there's no better in heaven; after God comes\nJesus.\n\nIt wouldn't be a woman then that thou wouldst choose to meet in heaven,\nbut a man? Men love women, Joseph said, for their corruptible bodies,\nand women love men for theirs; but even the lecher would choose rather\nto meet a man in heaven, and the wanton another woman. If we would\ndiscover whom we love most, we can do so by asking ourselves whom we\nwould choose to meet in heaven. Heaven without Jesus would not be heaven\nfor me. But if he be not the Messiah after all? Esora asked. Should I\nlove him less? he answered her. None is as perfect as he. I have known\nhim long, Esora, and can say truly that none is worthy to be the carpet\nunder his feet.\n\nI have never spoken like this before, but I am glad to have spoken, for\nnow thou understandest how much thou hast done for me. Thou and thy\nbalsam and thy ministration. My balsam, she answered, has done better\nthan I expected it would do. Thou sawest his back this morning. One can\ncall it cured. His hands and feet have mended and his strength is\nreturning. In a few days he will be fit to travel. This is the third\ntime, Esora, that thou hast said he'll be able to travel soon--yet thou\nsayest he is so patient and gentle that it is a pleasure to attend on\nhim; and an honour. But, Master, the danger is great, and every day\naugments the danger. Secrets, as I've said, take a long time to leak\nout, but they leak out in time. Her words are wise, he thought to\nhimself, and he overlooked her, guessing her to have shrunken to less\nthan her original size; she seemed but a handful of bones and yellow\nskin, but when she looked up in his face her eyes were alive, and from\nunder a small bony forehead they pleaded, and with quavering voice she\nsaid: let him go, dear Master, for if the Pharisees seek him here and\nfind him, he will hang again on the cross. Thou wouldst have me tell\nhim, Esora, that rumours are about that he did not die on the cross and\nthat a search may be made for him. I wouldn't have thee speak to him of\nPilate or his crucifixion, Master, for we don't know that he'd care to\nlook back upon his troubles; he might prefer to forget them as far as he\nis able to forget them. But thou canst speak to him of his health,\nMaster, which increases every day, and of the benefit a change would be\nto him. Speak to him if thou wouldst of a sea voyage, but speak not of\nanything directly for fear of perplexing him. Lead rather than direct,\nfor his mind must be a sort of maze at present. A great deal has\nbefallen, and nothing exactly as he expected. Nor would I have thee\nspeak to him of anything but actual things; speak of what is before his\neyes as much as possible; not a word about yesterday or of to-morrow,\nonly so far as his departure is concerned. Keep his thoughts on actual\nthings, Master: on his health, for he feels that, and on the dogs about\nhis feet, for he sees them; he takes an interest in them; let him speak\nto thee of them, which will be better still, and in your talk about dogs\nmany things will happen. The hills about C\u00e6sarea may be mentioned; see\nthat they are mentioned; ask him if they are like the hills above\nJericho. I cannot tell thee more, Master, but will pray that thou mayest\nspeak the right words.\n\nA shrewd old thing, Joseph thought, as he went towards Jesus, looking\nback once to see Esora disappearing into the wood. She'd have me keep\nhis thoughts on actual things, he continued, and seeing that Jesus had\ncalled the puppies to him and was making himself their playmate, he\nasked him if he were fond of dogs; whereupon Jesus began to praise the\nbitch, saying she was of better breeding than her puppies, and that when\nshe came on heat again she should be sent to a pure Thracian like\nherself. Joseph asked, not because he was interested in dog-breeding,\nbut to make talk, if the puppies were mongrels. Mongrels, Jesus\nrepeated, overlooking them; not altogether mongrels, three-quarter bred;\nthe dog that begot them was a mongrel, half Syrian, half Thracian. I've\nseen worse dogs highly prized. Send the bitch to a dog of pure Thracian\nstock and thou'lt get some puppies that will be the sort that I used to\nseek.\n\nJoseph waited, for he expected Jesus to speak of the Essenes and of the\ntime when he was their shepherd; but Jesus' thoughts seemed to have\nwandered from dogs, and to bring them back to dogs again Joseph\ninterposed: thou wast then a shepherd? But Jesus did not seem to hear\nhim, and as he was about to repeat his question he remembered that Esora\ntold him to keep to the present time. We do not know, she said, that he\nremembers, and if he has forgotten the effort to remember will fatigue\nhim, or it may be, she had added, that he wishes to keep his troubles\nout of mind. A shrewd old thing, Joseph said to himself, and he sat by\nJesus considering how he might introduce the subject he had come to\nspeak to Jesus about, the necessity of his departure from Judea. But as\nno natural or appropriate remark came into his mind to make, he sat like\none perplexed and frightened, not knowing how the silence that had\nfallen would be broken. It is easy, he thought, for Esora to say, speak\nonly of present things, but it is hard to keep on speaking of things to\na man whose thoughts are always at ramble. But if I speak to him of his\nhealth an occasion must occur to remind him that a change is desirable\nafter a long or a severe illness. It may have been that Joseph did not\nset forth the subject adroitly; he made mention, however, of a\nmarvellous recovery, and as Jesus did not answer him he continued: Esora\nthought that thou wouldst be able to get as far as the terrace in\nanother week, but thou'rt on the terrace to-day. Still Jesus did not\nanswer him, and feeling that nothing venture nothing win, he struck\nboldly out into a sentence that change of air is the best medicine after\nsickness. Jesus remaining still unresponsive, he added: sea air is\nbetter than mountain air, and none as beneficial as the air that blows\nabout C\u00e6sarea.\n\nThe word C\u00e6sarea brought a change of expression into Jesus' face, and\nJoseph, interpreting it to mean that Jesus was prejudiced against those\ncoasts, hastened to say that a sick man is often the best judge of the\nair he needs. But, Joseph, I have none but thee, Jesus said; and the two\nmen sat looking into each other's eyes, Joseph thinking that if Jesus\nwere to recover his mind he would be outcast, as no man had ever been\nbefore in the world: without a country, without kindred, without a\nbelief wherewith to cover himself; for nothing, Joseph said to himself\nas he sat looking into Jesus' eyes, has happened as he thought it would;\nand no man finds new thoughts and dreams whereby he may live. I did not\nforesee this double nakedness, or else might have left him to die on the\ncross. Will he, can he, forgive me? A moment afterwards he recovered\nhope, for Jesus did not seem to know that the hills beyond the terrace\nwere the Judean hills, and then, as if forgetting the matter in hand\n(his projected residence in C\u00e6sarea), he began to speak of Bethlehem,\nsaying he could not think of Bethlehem without thinking of Nazareth, a\nremark that was obscure to Joseph, who did not know Nazareth. It was to\nmake some answer--for Jesus seemed to be waiting for him to answer--that\nJoseph said: Nazareth is far from C\u00e6sarea, a remark that he soon\nperceived to be unfortunate, for it awakened doubts in Jesus that he was\nno longer welcome in Joseph's house. Why speakest thou of C\u00e6sarea to me?\nhe said. Is it because thou wouldst rid thyself of me? Whereupon Joseph\nbesought Jesus to lay aside the thought that he, Joseph, wished him\naway. I would have thee with me always, deeming it a great honour; but\nEsora has charge of thy health and has asked me to say that a change is\nneeded.\n\nMy health, Jesus interrupted. Am I not getting my strength quickly? do\nnot send me away, Joseph, for I am weak in body and in mind; let me stay\nwith thee a little longer; a few days; a few weeks. If I go to C\u00e6sarea I\nmust learn Greek, for that is the language spoken there, and thou'lt\nteach me Greek, Joseph. Send me not away. But there is no thought of\nsending thee away, Joseph answered; my house is thy house for as long as\nthou carest to remain, and the words were spoken with such an accent of\ntruth that Jesus answered them with a look that went straight to\nJoseph's heart; but while he rejoiced Jesus' mind seemed to float away:\nhe was absent from himself again, and Joseph had begun to think that all\nthat could be said that day had been said on the subject of his\ndeparture from Judea, when a little memory began to be stirring in\nJesus, as Esora would say, like a wind in a field.\n\nI remember thee, Joseph, as one to whom I did a great wrong, but what\nthat wrong was I have forgotten. Do not try to recall it, Joseph said to\nhim, no wrong was done, Jesus. Thou'rt the rich man's son, he said, and\nwhat I remember concerning thee is thy horse, for he was handsomer than\nany other. His name was Xerxes. Dost still ride him? Is he in the\nstables of yon house? He was sold, Joseph answered, to pay for our\njourney in Syria, and some of the price went to pay for thy cloak. The\ncloak on my shoulders? Jesus asked. The cloak on thy shoulders is one of\nmy cloaks. Thou earnest here naked. I was carried here by an angel,\nJesus replied, for I felt the feathers of his wings brush across my\nface. But why that strange look, Joseph?--those curious, inquisitive\neyes? It was an angel that carried me hither. No, Jesus, it was I that\ncarried thee out of the sepulchre up the crooked path. What is thy\npurpose in saying that it was no angel but thou? Jesus asked; and\nJoseph, remembering that he must not say anything that would vex Jesus,\nregretted having contradicted him and tried to think how he might mend\nhis mistake with words that would soothe Jesus; but, as it often is on\nsuch occasions, the more we seek for the right words the further we seem\nto be from them, and Joseph did not know how he might plausibly unsay\nhis story that he had carried him without vexing Jesus still further: he\nis sure an angel carried him, Joseph said: he felt the feathers of the\nwings brush across his face, and he is now asking himself why I lied to\nhim.\n\nAs Joseph was thinking that it might be well to say that Bethlehem was\nlike Nazareth, he caught sight of Jesus' face as pale as ashes, more\nlike a dead face than a living, and fearing that he was about to swoon\nagain or die, Joseph called loudly for Esora, who came running down the\npathway.\n\nThou mustn't call for me so loudly, Master. If Matred had heard thee and\ncome running---- But, Esora, look. As likely as not it is no more than a\nlittle faintness, she said. He has been overdoing it: running after\npuppies, and talking with thee about C\u00e6sarea. But it was thyself told me\nto ask him to go to C\u00e6sarea for change of air. Never mind, Master, what\nI told thee. We must think now how we shall get him back to bed. Do thou\ntake one arm and I'll take the other.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXII.\n\n\nJesus did not speak about angels again, and one morning at the end of\nthe week before going away to Jerusalem to attend to some important\nbusiness Joseph, after a talk with Esora, turned down the alley with the\nintention of asking Jesus to leave Judea. It would have been better, she\nsaid to herself, if he had waited till evening; these things cannot be\nsettled off-hand; he'll only say the wrong thing again, and she stood\nwaiting at her kitchen door, hoping that Joseph would stop on his way\nout to tell her Jesus' decision, but he went away without speaking, and\nshe began to think it unlikely that anything was decided. He is\nsoft-hearted and without much will of his own, she said.... Jesus is\ngoing to stay with us, so we may all hang upon crosses yet, unless,\nindeed, Master comes to hear something in Jerusalem that will bring him\nround to my way of thinking. He believes, she continued, that Jesus is\nforgotten because the apostles have returned to their fishing, but that\ncannot be; the two young women that came here one Sunday morning with a\nstory about an empty sepulchre have found, I'll vouch, plenty of eager\ngossips, and a smile floated round her old face at the additions she\nheard to it yester morning at the gates. But no good would come of my\ntelling him, she meditated, for he'd only say it was my fancies, though\nhe has to acknowledge that I am always right when I speak out of what he\ncalls my fancies. In about three weeks, she muttered, the stories that\nare going the round will begin to reach his ears.\n\nThe old woman's guess was a good one. It was about that time the\ncamel-drivers, assembled in the yard behind the counting-house, began to\ntell that Jesus had been raised from the dead, and their stories, being\noverheard by the clerk, were reported to Joseph. The Pharisees are angry\nwith Pilate for not having put a guard of soldiers over the tomb, the\nclerk was saying, when Joseph interjected that a guard of soldiers would\nbe of no avail if God had wished to raise Jesus from the dead. The point\nof their discourse, the clerk continued, is that no man but Jesus died\non the cross in three hours; three days, Sir, are mentioned as the usual\ntime. It is said that a man, Sir, often lingers on until the end of the\nfourth day. Joseph remained, his thoughts suspended, and the clerk,\nbeing a faithful servant, and anxious for Joseph's safety, asked if he\nmight speak a word of counsel, and reading on Joseph's face that he was\npermitted to speak, he said: I would have you make an end of these\nrumours, Sir, and this can be done if you will attend the next meeting\nof the Sanhedrin and make plain your reason for having gone to Pilate to\nask him for the body. As it seemed to Joseph that his clerk had spoken\nwell, he attended the next meeting of the Council, but the business that\nthe councillors had come together for did not admit of interruption for\nthe sake of personal explanation, however interesting, and the hostility\nof everybody to him was notable from the first. Only a few personal\nfriends spoke to him; among them was Nicodemus, who would not be\ndismissed, but went away with him at the close of the meeting,\nbeseeching him not to cross the valley unarmed, and if thou wouldst not\ndraw attention to thyself by the purchase of arms, he said, I will give\nthee the arms thou needest for thyself and will arm some camel-drivers\nfor thee. I thank thee, Nicodemus, but if I were to return home\naccompanied by three or four armed camel-drivers I should draw the\nattention of Jerusalem upon me, thereby quickening the anger of the\nPharisees, and my death would be resolved upon. But art thou sure that\nthe hirelings of the priests haven't been told to kill thee? Nicodemus\nasked. Pilate's friendship for me is notorious, Joseph replied. I'm not\nafraid, Nicodemus, and it is well for me that I'm not, for assassination\ncomes to the timorous. That is true, Nicodemus rejoined, our fears often\nbring about our destiny, but thou shouldst avoid returning by the\nvalley; return by the eastern gate and on horseback. But that way,\nJoseph answered, is a lonely and long one, and thinking it better to put\na bold face on the matter, though his heart was beating, he began to\nspeak scornfully of the Pharisees who, seemingly, would have consented\nto a desecration of the Sabbath. He had done no more than any other Jew\nwho did not wish the Sabbath to be desecrated, and remembering suddenly\nthat Nicodemus would repeat everything he said, he spoke again of\nPilate's friendship, and the swift vengeance that would follow his\nmurder. Pilate is my friend, and whoever kills me makes sure of his own\ndeath. I do not doubt that what thou sayest is true, Joseph, but Pilate\nmay be recalled, and it may suit the next Roman to let the priests have\ntheir way. I am going to Egypt to-morrow, he said suddenly. To Egypt,\nJoseph repeated, and memories awoke in him of the months he spent in\nAlexandria, of the friends he left there, of the Greek that he had taken\nso much trouble to perfect himself in, and the various philosophies\nwhich he thought enlarged his mind, though he pinned his faith to none;\nand reading in his face the pleasure given by the word Egypt, Nicodemus\npressed him to come with him: all those who are suspected of sympathy\nwith Jesus, he said, will do well to leave Judea for a year at least.\nAlexandria, as thou knowest, having lived there, is friendly to\nintellectual dispute. In Alexandria men live in a kingdom that belongs\nneither to C\u00e6sar nor to God. But all things belong to God, Joseph\nreplied. Yes, answered Nicodemus; but God sets no limits to the mind,\nbut priests do in the name of God. Remember Egypt, where thou'lt find\nme, and glad to see thee....\n\nOn these words the men parted, and Joseph descended into the valley a\nlittle puzzled, for the traditionalism of Nicodemus seemed to have\nundergone a change. But more important than any change that may have\nhappened in Nicodemus' mind was the journey to Egypt, that he had\nproposed to Joseph. Joseph would like to go to Egypt, taking Jesus with\nhim, and as he walked he beheld in imagination Jesus disputing in the\nschools of philosophy, but if he were to go away to Egypt the promise to\nhis father would be broken fully. If his father were to fall ill he\nmight die before the tidings of his father's illness could reach him; a\nyear's residence in Egypt was, therefore, forbidden to him; on the top\nof the Mount of Olives he stopped, so that he might remember that\nNicodemus' disposition was always to hear the clashing of swords; spears\nare always glittering in his eyes for one reason or another, he said,\nand though he would regret a friend's death, he would regard it as being\natoned for if the brawl were sufficiently violent. He has gone to Egypt,\nno doubt, because it is pleasing to him to believe his life to be in\ndanger. He invents reasons. Pilate's recall! Now what put that into his\nmind? He may be right, but this Mount of Olives is peaceful enough and\nthe road beyond leading to my house seems safe to the wayfarer even at\nthis hour. He followed the road in a quieter mood, and it befell that\nEsora opened the gates to him, for which he thanked her abruptly and\nturned away, wishing to be alone; but seeing how overcast was his face,\nshe did not return to her kitchen as she had intended, but remained with\nhim, anxious to learn if the rumours she knew to be current had reached\nhis ears. She would not be shaken off by silence, but followed him down\nthe alley leading to Jesus' cottage, answering silence by silence,\ncertain in this way to provoke him thereby into confidences. They had\nnot proceeded far into the wood before they came upon Jesus in front of\na heap of dead leaves that he had raked together. A great many had\nfallen, he said, and the place was beginning to look untidy, so I\nthought I would gather them for burning. Thou must not tire thyself,\nJoseph answered, as he passed on with Esora, asking her as they went\nthrough the autumn woods if Jesus found the rake for himself or if she\ngave it to him. He asked me if he might be allowed to feed the chickens,\nshe said, and I would have let him if Matred's window did not overlook\nthe yard. Master, the hope of getting him out of Judea rests upon the\nchance that he may recover his mind, and staring at the desert all day\nwon't help him. He musn't brood, and as there is no work like raking up\nleaves to keep a man's thought off himself, unless, indeed, it be\ndigging, I thought I had better let him have the rake. But if Matred\nshould meet him? Joseph asked. She will see the new gardener in him,\nthat will be all. I told her last night, Esora continued, that we were\nexpecting the new gardener, and she said it would be pleasant to have a\nman about the house again. But he musn't attempt any hard work like\ndigging yet awhile; he has done enough to-day; I'll go and tell him to\nput away the rake and pass on to his supper. She waited for Joseph to\nanswer, but he was in no humour for speech, and she left him looking at\nthe hills.\n\nA cloud lifts, and we are; another cloud descends, and we are not; so\nmuch do we know, but we are without sufficient sight to discover the\nreason behind all this shaping and reshaping, for like all else we\nourselves are changing as Heraclitus said many years ago.\n\nAnd while thinking of this philosopher, whose wisdom he felt to be more\nsatisfying than any other, he paced back and forth, seeking a little\nwhile longer to untie the knot that all men seek to untie, abandoning at\nlast, saying: fate tied it securely before the beginning of history, and\non these words he ran up the steps of his house, pausing on the\nthreshold to listen, for he could distinguish Esora's voice, and\nMatred's; afterwards he heard Jesus' voice, and he said: Jesus eats with\nmy servants in the kitchen! This cannot be, and he very nearly obeyed\nthe impulse of the moment, which was to call Jesus and tell him to come\nand eat his supper with him. To do this, however, would draw Matred's\nattention to the fact that Jesus was not of her company but of her\nmaster's, and distinctions between servants and master, he continued,\nare not for him, who thinks in eternal terms.\n\nHe sat at table, his thoughts suspended, but awakening suddenly from a\nreverie, of which he remembered nothing, he rose from his seat and went\nto the kitchen door, regretting that he was not with Jesus, for to miss\nhis words, however slight they might be, seemed to him to be a loss that\ncould not be repaired. They are listening to him, he said, with the same\npleasure that I used to do, watching his eyes lighting his words on\ntheir way.\n\nAt that moment a shuffling of feet sent him back to his seat again, and\nhe put food into his mouth just in time to escape suspicion of\neavesdropping. I thought, Master, that thy supper was finished, and that\nI might take away the plates. I've hardly begun my supper, Esora. Your\nvoices in the kitchen prevented me from eating. We are sorry for that,\nMaster, she replied. Make no excuses, Esora. I said it was the voices in\nthe kitchen that disturbed me, but in truth it was my own thoughts, for\nI have heard many things to-day in Jerusalem. Esora's face brightened\nand she said to herself: my words to him are coming true. Sit here,\nEsora, and I'll tell thee what I've heard to-day. And while Matred\nlistened to Jesus in the kitchen Esora heard from Joseph that the\ncamel-drivers had been talking of the resurrection in the yard behind\nthe counting-house, and that his clerk's advice to him had been to\nattend the Sanhedrin, and make plain that his reason for going to Pilate\nto ask for the body of Jesus was because he did not wish a desecration\nof the Sabbath. But he had only met a show of dark faces, and left the\nmeeting in company with Nicodemus. Esora, is our danger as great as this\nyoung man says it is? Master, I have always told thee that as soon as\nJesus leaves Judea he will be safe from violence, from death, and we\nshall be safe too, but not till then. But how are we to persuade him to\nleave Judea, Esora? Thou must try, Master, to persuade him, there is no\nother way. He is talking now with Matred in the kitchen. Ask him to come\nhere, and thou'lt see, Esora, the sad face that uplifts when I speak to\nhim of C\u00e6sarea. I'll speak for thee, Master, she answered, and going to\nthe door she called Jesus to them, and when he stood before them she\nsaid: have I not proved a good physician to thee? To-day thy back gives\nthee no trouble. Only aching a bit, he answered, from stooping, but\nthat will pass away. And my balsam having cured thy feet and hands is it\nnot right that I should take a pride in thee? And, smiling, Jesus\nanswered: had I voice enough I would call the virtue of thy balsam all\nover the world. My balsam has done well with thee, but a change is\nneeded to restore thee to thyself, and seeing a cloud come into his\nface, she continued: we weren't talking of sending thee to C\u00e6sarea, for\nit is of little use to send a man in search of health whither he is not\nminded to go. Our talk was not of C\u00e6sarea. But of what city then? Jesus\nasked, and Esora began to speak of Alexandria, and Joseph, thinking that\nshe repeated indifferently all that she had heard of that city from him,\ninterrupted her and began to discourse about the several schools of\nphilosophy and his eagerness to hear Jesus among the sages. But why\nshould thy philosophers listen to me? Jesus asked. Because thou'rt wise.\nNo man, he replied, is wise but he who would learn, and none is foolish\nbut he who would teach. If there are learners there must be teachers,\nJoseph said, and he awaited Jesus' answer eagerly, but Esora, fearing\ntheir project would be lost sight of in argument, broke in, saying:\nneither teaching nor learning avails, but thy health, Jesus, and\nto-morrow a caravan starts for Egypt, and we would know if thou'lt join\nit, for one whom thou knowest goes with it, a friend, one Nicodemus, a\ndisciple, whose love for thee is equal to my master's.\n\nJesus' face darkened, but he said nothing, and Esora asked him if he did\nnot care to travel with Nicodemus, and he answered that if he went to\nEgypt he would like to go with Joseph. But my master has business here,\nand may not leave it easily. Is this so, Joseph? Jesus asked, and Joseph\nanswered: it is true that I have business here, but there are other\nreasons, and weightier ones than the one Esora has put before thee, why\nI may not leave Jerusalem and go to live in Egypt. But wouldst thou have\nme go to Egypt with Nicodemus, Joseph? Jesus asked, and Joseph could not\ndo else than say that the companion he would choose would not be one\nwhose tongue was always at babble. But wilt thou go to Egypt, he asked,\nif I tell thee that it is for thy safety and for ours that we propose\nthis voyage to thee? And Jesus answered: be it so.\n\nThen, Jesus, we'll make plans together, Esora and myself, for thy\ndeparture; and having thanked him, Jesus returned to Matred in the\nkitchen, and they could hear him talking with her while they debated,\nand as soon as the kitchen door closed Joseph told Esora that he could\nnot break the promise he gave to his father, and it was this very\npromise that she strove to persuade him to forgo. For it is the only\nway, she said, and he, agreeing with her, said: though I have promised\nmy father not to keep the company of Jesus, it seems to me that I should\nbe negligent in my duty towards Jesus if I did not go with him to Egypt;\nand Esora said: that is well said, Master, and now we will go to our\nbeds. God often counsels us in sleep and warns us against hasty\npromises.\n\nAnd it was as he expected it would be: he was that night disturbed by a\ndream in which his father appeared to him wearing a distressful face,\nsaying: I have a blessing that I would give to thee. There were more\nwords than this, but Joseph could not remember them; but the words he\ndid remember seemed to him a warning that he must not leave Judea; and\nJesus was of one mind with him when he heard them related on the\nterrace. A son, he said, must be always obedient to his father, and love\nhim before other men.\n\nWhereupon Esora, who was standing by when these words were spoken, was\nmuch moved, for she, too, believed in dreams and their interpretation,\nand she could put no other interpretation upon Joseph's dream than that\nhe was forbidden to go to Egypt. But Joseph might write, she said, to\nsome of his friends in Egypt, and they could send a friend, if they\nwished it, who would meet Jesus at Jericho; and this plan was in dispute\ntill all interest in Egypt faded from their minds, and they began to\ntalk of other countries and cities; of Athens and Corinth we were\ntalking, Joseph said to Esora, who had come into the room, and of India,\nof Judea. But if Jesus were to go to India we should never see him\nagain, she answered. It is thy good pleasure, Master, to arrange the\njourney, and when it is arranged to thy satisfaction thou'lt tell me,\nthough I do not know why thou shouldst consult me again. I came to tell\nthee that one of thy camel-drivers has come with the news that the\ndeparture of the caravan for Egypt has been advanced by two days. But if\nthou'rt thinking of Egypt no longer I may send him away. Tell him to\nreturn to the counting-house, and that there is no order for to-day,\nJoseph replied. You will settle the journey between you, Esora said,\nturning back on her way to the kitchen to speak once more. She would\nhave me go, Jesus said. Put that thought out of thy mind, Joseph replied\nquickly, for it is not a true thought. Thou shouldst have guessed\nbetter; it is well that thou goest, but we must find the country and the\ncity that is agreeable to thee, and that will be discovered in our talk\nin the next few days, to which Jesus answered nothing; and at the end of\nthe next few days, though much had been said, it seemed to Joseph that\nJesus' departure was as far away as ever. It has become, he said to\nEsora, a little dim. I know nothing, he continued, of Jesus' mind.\n\nOn these words he went to his counting-house distracted and sad,\nexpecting to hear from his clerk that the story of Jesus' resurrection\nwas beginning to be forgotten in Jerusalem, but the clerk knew nothing\nmore, and was eager to speak on another matter. Pilate had sent\nsoldiers to prevent a multitude from assembling at the holy mountain,\nGerezim, for the purpose of searching for some sacred vessels hidden\nthere by Moses, so it was said. Many had been slain in the riot, and the\nSamaritans had made representations to Vitellius, artfully worded, the\nclerk said, and dangerous to Pilate, for Vitellius had a friend whom he\nwould like to put in Pilate's place. Joseph sat thinking that it was not\nat all unlikely he was about to lose his friend and protector, and the\nclerk, seeing his master troubled, dropped in the words: nothing has\nbeen settled yet. Joseph gave no heed, and a few days afterwards a\nmessenger came from the Pr\u00e6torium to tell Joseph that Pilate wished to\nsee him. We shall not meet again, Joseph, unless you come to Rome, and\nyou must come quickly to see me there, for my health is declining. We\nhave been friends, such friends as may rarely consist with Roman and\nHebrew, he said, and the words stirred up a great grief in Joseph's\nheart, and when he returned that evening to his house he was overcome by\nthe evil tidings, but he did not convey them to Esora that evening, nor\nthe next day, nor the day afterwards, and they becoming such a great\ntorment in his heart he did not care to go to his counting-house, but\nremained waiting in his own rooms, or walking in the garden, startled by\nevery noise and by every shadow.\n\nDay passed over day, and it was one of the providers that came to the\ngates that brought the news of Pilate's departure to Esora, and when she\nhad gotten it she came to Joseph, saying: so your friend Pilate has been\nordered to Rome? He has, indeed, Joseph answered, overcome by the\nintrigues of the Samaritans, who sought to assemble together, not so\nmuch to discover sacred vessels as to bring about a change of\ngovernment. We are beset with danger, Esora, for it has come to my mind\nthat the stories about the resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth may be\nkindled again, and it will not be difficult to incite the priests\nagainst me; everybody is saying that I was the last man to see Jesus,\nand must know where his body is hidden; that is enough for the priests,\nand they will send up a band of Zealots to seek him in this garden.\nThere is no place here where we can hide him from them. That is why I\nhaven't been to my counting-house for three days, fearing to leave thee\nand Matred alone with him, for they would surely choose the time when I\nwas away in Jerusalem to plunder my house. As he was saying these things\nMatred came into the room with some wood for the fire, but before\nthrowing the logs on the hearth that Jesus carried up she looked at\nthem, and it seemed to Joseph her eyes were full of suspicion, and as\nsoon as she left the room he said: now why did she bring the logs into\nthe room while we were talking of Jesus, and why did she mention that he\ncarried them up this afternoon, having felled a dead tree this morning?\n\nEsora tried to persuade him that his fears were imaginary, but she too\nfeared that Matred might begin to suspect that Jesus was no ordinary\ngardener; she had said, ye speak strangely in Galilee, and to kindle the\nstory again it would only be necessary for somebody to come up to the\ngates and ask her if one, Jesus, a Galilean, was known to her, one that\nPilate condemned to the cross. Her answer would be: there is one here\ncalled Jesus, he is a Galilean, and may have been on the cross for aught\nI know. And such answer would be carried back to the priests, who would\norder their hirelings to make a search for Jesus, and the master and\nservant often sat of an evening listening to the wind in the chimney,\nthinking it was warning them of the raid of the Jews. If a tree fell it\nwas an omen, and they related their dreams to each other in the alleys\nof the gardens, till it occurred to them that to be seen in long\nconverse together would awaken Matred's suspicion. The shutters were put\nup and they sat in the dark afraid to speak lest the walls had ears.\n\nEsora, who was the braver of the two, often said, Master, strive to\nquell thy fears, for the new procurator has given pause to the story of\nthe resurrection. We have heard little of it lately, and Jesus is\nbeginning to be forgotten. Not so, Esora, for to-day I heard--and Joseph\nbegan a long relation which ended always with the phrase: we are beset\nwith danger. We have been saying that now for a long while, Esora\nanswered, yet nothing has befallen us yet, and what cannot be cured must\nbe endured. We must bear with him. If, Esora, I could bring myself to\nbreak all promises to my father and go away with him to Egypt this\nmisery would be ended. Master, thou canst not do this thing; thou hast\nbeen thinking of it all the winter, and were it possible it would be\naccomplished already. If it hadn't been for that dream--and Joseph began\nto relate again the dream related many times before. Forget thy dream,\nMaster, Esora said to him, for it will not help us; as I have said, what\ncannot be cured must be endured. We must put our trust in time, which\nbrings many changes; and in the spring something will befall; he'll be\ntaken from us. The spring, Esora? And in safety? Tell me, and in safety?\nNay, Master, I cannot tell thee more than I have said; something will\nbefall, but what that thing may be I cannot say. Will it be in the\nwinter or in the spring? It will be in February or March, she said. It\nwas, however, before then, in January (the winter being a mild one, the\nbirds were already singing in the shaws), that a camel-driver came to\nthe house on the hillside to tell Joseph that a camel had been stolen\nfrom them on their way from Jericho to Jerusalem during the night or in\nthe early morning, and with many words and movements of the hands, that\nirritated Joseph, he sought to describe the valley where they pitched\ntheir tent. Get on with thy story, Joseph said; and the man told that\nthey had succeeded in tracking the band, a small one, to a cave, out of\nwhich, he said, it will be easy to smoke them if Fadus, the procurator,\nwill send soldiers at once, for they may go on to another cave, not\ndeeming it safe to remain long in the same one. Didst beg the camel\nback from the robbers? Joseph asked, for he was not thinking of the\nrobbery, but of his meeting with Fadus. No, Master, there was no use\ndoing that. They would have taken our lives. But we followed them,\nspying them from behind rocks all the way, and the cave having but one\nentrance they can be smoked to death with a few trusses of damp straw.\nBut care must be taken lest our camel perish with them. If we could get\nthem to give up the camel first, I'm thinking--\n\nIt was a serious matter to hear that robbers had again established\nthemselves in the hills; and while Joseph pondered the disagreeable\ntidings a vagrant breeze carried the scent of the camel-driver's\nsheepskin straight into Jesus' nostrils as he came up the path with a\nbundle of faggots on his shoulders. He stopped at first perplexed by the\nsmell and then, recognising it, he hurried forward, till he stood before\nthe spare frame and withered brown face of the desert wanderer.\n\nJoseph looked on puzzled, for Jesus stood like one in ecstatic vision\nand began to put questions to the camel-driver regarding the quality of\nthe sheep the shepherds led, asking if the rams speeded, if there were\nmany barren ewes in the flock, and if there was as much scab about as\nformerly, questions that one shepherd might put to another, but which\nseemed strangely out of keeping with a gardener's interests.\n\nThe camel-driver answered Jesus' question as well as he was able, and\nthen, guessing a former shepherd in the gardener, he asked if Jesus had\never led a flock. Joseph tried to interrupt, but the interruption came\ntoo late; Jesus blurted out that for many years he was a shepherd. And\nwho was thy master? the camel-driver asked; Jesus answered that he was\nin those days an Essene living in the great settlement on the eastern\nbank of Jordan. Whereupon the camel-driver began to relate that Brother\nAmos was not doing well with the sheep and that some of the brethren\nwere gone to the Brook Kerith and had taken possession of a cave in the\nrocks above it. The camel-driver was about to begin to make plain this\nAmos' misunderstanding of sheep, but Jesus interrupted him. Who may\ntheir president be? he asked; and with head bent, scratching his poll,\nthe camel-driver said at last that he thought it was Hazael. Hazael!\nJesus answered, and forthwith his interest in the camel-driver began to\nslacken. The anemone is on the hills to-day, he said, and Joseph looked\nat him reproachfully; his eyes seemed to say: hast forgotten so easily\nthe danger we passed through by keeping thee here, counting it as\nnothing, so great was our love of thee?--and Jesus answering that look\nreplied: but, Joseph, how often didst thou speak to me of C\u00e6sarea,\nAlexandria, Athens, and other cities. Esora, too, was anxious that I\nshould leave Judea ... for my sake as well as yours. India was spoken\nof, but the Brook Kerith is not twenty odd miles from here and I shall\nbe safe among the brethren. Why this silence, Joseph? and whence comes\nthis change of mood? Jesus asked, and Joseph began to speak of the\nparting that awaited them. But there'll be no parting, Jesus interposed.\nThou'lt ride thy ass out to meet me, and we shall learn to know each\nother, for thou knowest nothing of me yet, Joseph. Thou'lt bring a loaf\nof bread and a flagon of wine in thy wallet, and we shall share it\ntogether. I shall wait for thy coming on the hillside. Even so, Jesus, I\nam sad that our life here among the trees in this garden should have\ncome to an end. We were frightened many times, but what we suffered is\nnow forgotten. The pleasure of having thee with us alone is remembered.\nBut it is true we have been estranged here. May we start to-night? Jesus\nasked, and Joseph said: if a man be minded to leave, it is better that\nhe should leave at once.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXIII.\n\n\nAn hour later, about two hours before midnight, they were riding into\nthe desert, lighted by a late moon and incommoded by two puppies that\nJesus could not be dissuaded from bringing with him: for if Brother Amos\ngive up his flock to me, he argued, I shall need dogs. But Brother Amos\nwill give thee his dogs, Joseph said. A shepherd, Jesus answered, cannot\nwork with any dogs but his own. But what has become of the dogs that\nwere left behind? Joseph asked, and not being able to tell him, Jesus\nfell to wondering how it was he had forgotten his dogs. At that moment\none of the puppies cried to be let down: see how well he follows, Jesus\nsaid, but hardly were the words past his lips than the puppy turned\ntail, and Jesus had to chase him very nearly back to Bethany before he\nallowed himself to be overtaken and picked up again. The way is long,\nJoseph cried, more than seven hours to the city of Jericho, and if these\nchases happen again we shall be overtaken by the daylight. One of my\ncaravans starts from Jericho at dawn; and if we meet it I shall have my\ncamel-drivers round me asking pertinent questions and may be compelled\nto return with them to Jericho. Come, Jesus, thine ass seems willing to\namble down this long incline; and dropping the reins over the animal's\nwithers, and leaning back, holding a puppy under each arm, Jesus allowed\nthe large brown ass he was riding to trot; it was not long before he\nleft far behind the heavy weighted white ass, which carried Joseph.\n\nNow seeing the distance lengthening out between them Joseph was tempted\nto cry to Jesus to stop, but dared not, lest he might awaken robbers\n(their strongholds having lately been raided by soldiers), and he had in\nmind the fugitives that might be lurking in the hills, so instead of\ncrying to Jesus to hold hard, he urged his ass forward. But the best\nspeed he could make was not sufficient to overtake the nimbly trotting\nbrown ass, and the pursuit might have been continued into Jericho if\nJesus had not been suddenly behoven by the silence to stop and wait for\nJoseph to overtake him, which he did in about ten minutes, whispering:\nride not so fast, robbers may be watching for travellers. Not at this\nhour, Jesus replied; and he prepared to ride on. This time one of the\npuppies succeeded in getting away and might have run back again to\nBethany had not Joseph leapt from his ass and driven him back to Jesus\nwith loud cries that the ravines repeated again and again. If there were\nrobbers asleep, thy cries would awaken them. True, true, Joseph replied;\nI forgot; and he vowed he would not utter another word till they passed\na certain part of the road, advantageous, he said, to robbers. No\nbetter spot between Jerusalem and Jericho for murder and robbery, he\ncontinued: cast thine eyes down into the ravine into which he could\nthrow us. But if a robber should fall upon me do not stay to defend me;\nride swiftly to the inn for help, and, despite the danger, Joseph rode\nin front of Jesus, sustained by the hope that the good fortune that\nattended him so far would attend him to the end. And they rode on\nthrough the grey moonlight till a wolf howled in the distance. Joseph\nbent over and whispered in Jesus' ear: hold thy puppies close to thy\nbosom, Jesus, for if one be dropped and start running back to Bethany he\nwill be overtaken easily by that wolf and thou'lt never hear of him\nagain. Jesus held the puppies tighter, but there was no need to do so,\nfor they seemed to know that the howl was not of their kin. The wolf\nhowled again, and was answered by another wolf. The twain have missed\nour trail, Joseph said, and had there been more we might have had to\nabandon our asses. If we hasten we shall reach the inn without\nmolestation from robbers or wolves. How far are we from the inn, Jesus?\nAbout two hours, Jesus answered, and Joseph fell to gazing on the hills,\ntrying to remember them, but unable to do so, so transformed were they\nin the haze of the moonlight beyond their natural seeming. They\nattracted him strangely, the hills, dim, shadowy, phantasmal, rising out\nof their loneliness towards the bright sky, a white cliff showing\nsometimes through the greyness; the shadow of a rock falling sometimes\nacross a track faintly seen winding round the hills, every hill being,\nas it were, a stage in the ascent.\n\nAs the hills fell back behind the wayfarers the inn began to take shape\nin the pearl-coloured haze, and the day Joseph rested for the first time\nin this inn rose up in his memory with the long-forgotten wanderers whom\nhe had succoured on the occasion: the wizened woman in her black rags\nand the wizened child in hers. They came up from the great desert and\nfor the last fifteen days had only a little camel's milk, so they had\nsaid, and like rats they huddled together to eat the figs he\ndistributed.\n\nHe had seen the inn many times since then and the thought came into his\nmind that he would never see it again. But men are always haunted by\nthoughts of an impending fate, he said to himself, which never befalls.\nBut it has befallen mine ass to tire under my weight, he cried. He must\nbe very tired, Jesus answered, for mine is tired, and I've not much more\nthan half thy weight; and the puppies are tired, tired of running\nalongside of the asses, and tired of being carried, and ourselves are\ntired and thirsty; shall we knock at the door and cry to the innkeeper\nthat he rouse out of his bed and give us milk for the puppies if he have\nany? I wouldn't have him know that I journeyed hither with thee, Joseph\nreplied, for stories are soon set rolling. Esora has put a bottle of\nwater into the wallet; the puppies will have to lap a little. We can\nspare them a little though we are thirstier than they. She had put bread\nand figs into the wallet, so they were not as badly off as they thought\nfor; and eating and drinking and talking to the puppies and feeding them\nthe while, the twain stood looking through the blue, limpid, Syrian\nnight.\n\nAt the end of a long silence Jesus said: the dawn begins; look, Joseph,\nthe stars are not shining as brightly over the Jericho hills as they\nwere. But Joseph could not see that the stars were dimmer. Are they not\nwith-drawing? Jesus asked, and then, forgetful of the stars, his\nthoughts went to the puppies: see how they crouch and tremble under the\nwall of the garth, he said. There must be a wolf about, he said, and\nafter he had thrown a stone to hasten the animal's departure he began to\ntalk to the puppies, telling them they need have no fear of wolves, for\nwhen they were full-grown and were taught by him they would not hold on\nbut snap and snap again. That is how the Thracian dogs fight, like the\nwolves, he said, turning to Joseph. He is thinking, Joseph said to\nhimself, of sheep and dogs and being a shepherd again. But of-what art\nthou thinking, Joseph?--of that strip of green sky which is the dawn? I\ncan see, now, that thy shepherd eyes did not deceive thee, Joseph\nanswered. The day begins again; and how wonderful is the return of the\nday, hill after hill rising out of the shadow. An old land, he said,\nlike the end of the world. Why like the end of the world? Jesus asked.\nJoseph had spoken casually; he regretted the remark, and while he sought\nfor words that would explain it away a train of camels came through the\ndusk rocking up the hillside, swinging long necks, one bearing on its\nback what looked like a gigantic bird. A strange burden, Joseph said,\nand what it may be I cannot say, but the camels are my camels, and thou\nart safe out of sight under the wall of this garth.\n\nA moment after the word that the master had bidden a halt was passed up\nthe line, and one of the camel-drivers said: she stopped half-an-hour\nago to drop her young one, and we put him on the dam's back, and she\ndoesn't feel his weight. We shall rest for an hour between this and\nJerusalem, and when we lift him down he'll find the dug. But I've a\nletter for you, Master, from Gaddi, who wishes to see you. I thought to\ndeliver it in Jerusalem. It was fortunate to meet you here. Gaddi will\nsee you half-a-day sooner than he hoped for. I shall get to him by\nmidday, Joseph said, raising his eyes from the letter. By midday,\nMaster? Why, in early morning I should have thought for, unless, indeed,\nyou bide here till the innkeeper opens his doors. I have business,\nJoseph answered, with the Essenes that have settled in a cave above the\nBrook Kerith. About whom, the camel-driver interjected, there be much\ntalk going in Jericho. They've disputed among themselves, some remaining\nwhere they always were on the eastern bank of the Jordan, but ten or a\ndozen going to the Brook Kerith, with Hazael for their president. And\nfor what reason? Joseph inquired. I have told you, Master, all I know,\nand since you be going to the Brook Kerith the brethren themselves will\ngive reasons better than I can, even if I had heard what their reasons\nbe for differing among themselves. Whereupon Joseph bade his caravan\nproceed onward to Jerusalem.\n\nWe shall be surprised here by the daylight if we delay any longer, he\nsaid, returning to Jesus, and, mounting their asses, they rode down the\nhillside into a long, shallow valley out of which the track rose upwards\nand upwards penetrating into the hills above Jericho.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXIV.\n\n\nNow it is here we leave the track, Jesus said, and he turned his ass\ninto a little path leading down a steeply shelving hillside. We shall\nfind the brethren coming back from the hills, if they aren't back\nalready. It is daylight on the hills though it is night still in this\nvalley; and looking up they saw a greenish moon in the middle of a\nmottled sky of pink and grey. Over the face of the moon wisps of vapour\ncurled and went out: and the asses, Joseph said, are loath to descend\nthe hillside for fear of this strange moon, or it may be they are\nfrightened by the babble of this brook; it seems to rise out of the very\ncentre of the earth. How deep is the gorge? Very deep, Jesus answered;\nmany hundred feet. But the asses don't fear precipices, and if ours are\nunwilling to descend the hillside it is because the paths do not seem\nlikely to lead to a stable; so would I account for their obstinacy. I'll\nnot ride down so steep a descent, and Joseph slipped from his ass's\nback; and, rid of his load, the ass tried to escape, but Jesus managed\nto turn him back to Joseph, who seized the bridle. Dismount, Jesus, he\ncried, for the path is narrow, and to please him Jesus dismounted, and,\ndriving their animals in front of them, they ventured on to a sort of\nledge.\n\nIt passed under rocks and between rocks to the very brink of the\nprecipice as it descended towards the bridge that spanned the brook some\nhundreds of feet lower down. Already our asses scent a stable, Jesus\nsaid; he called after them to stop, and the obedient animals stopped and\nbegan to seek among the stones for a tuft of grass or a bramble. I see\nno place here for a hermitage, Joseph said, only roosts for choughs and\ncrows. There have been hermits here always, Jesus answered. We shall\npass the ruins of ancient hermitages farther down on this side above the\nbridge. The bridge was built by hermits who came from India, Jesus said.\nAnd was destroyed, Joseph interjected, by the Romans, so that they might\ncapture the robbers that infested the caves. But the Essenes must have\nrepaired the bridge lately, Jesus replied, and he asked Joseph how long\nthe Essenes had been at the Brook Kerith. My camel-driver did not say,\nJoseph answered, and Jesus pointed to the ledge that the Essenes must\nhave chosen for a dwelling: it cannot be else, he said; there is no\nother ledge large enough to build upon in the ravine; and behind the\nledge thou seest up yonder is the large cave whither the ravens came to\nfeed Elijah. If the brethren are anywhere they are on that ledge, in\nthat cave, and he asked Joseph if his eyes could not follow the building\nof a balcony: thine eyes cannot fail to see it, for it is plain to mine.\nJoseph said he thought he could discern the balcony. But how do we reach\nit? We aren't angels, he said. We shall ascend, Jesus answered, by a\npath going back and forth, through many terraces. Lead on, Joseph\nanswered. But stay, let us admire the bridge they have built and the\npepper-trees that border it. I am glad the Romans spared the trees, for\nmen that live in this solitude deserve the beauty of these pepper-trees.\nJesus said: yonder is the path leading to the source of the brook;\nfledged at this season with green reeds and rushes. They have built a\nmill I see! turned by the brook and fed, no doubt, by the wheat thy\ncamels bring from Moab. But the Essenes seem late at work this morning.\n\nAs he spoke these words an old man appeared on the balcony, and Joseph\nsaid: that must be Hazael, but his beard has gone very white. It is\nHazael, our president, Jesus answered. Let us go to him at once, and\nstill driving the asses in front of them and carrying the puppies in\ntheir arms they worked their way up through the many terraces; not one\nis more than three feet wide, yet in every one are fig-trees, Jesus\nremarked, and there seem to be vines everywhere, for though the Essenes\ndrink no wine, they sell their grapes to be eaten or to be turned into\nwine, Joseph. Our rule is not to kill, but we sell our sheep, and alas!\nsome go to the Temple and are offered in sacrifice. I used to weep for\nmy sheep, he muttered, but in this world----\n\nThe steep ascent checked further speech, and they walked to the east and\nthen to the west, back and forth, fifty little journeys taking them up\nto the cenoby. The great door was opened to them at once, and Hazael\ncame forward to meet them, giving his left hand to Joseph and his right\nto Jesus, whom he drew to his bosom. So, my dear Jesus, thou hast come\nback to us, Hazael said, and he looked into Jesus' face inquiringly,\nlearning from it that it would not be well to ask Jesus for the story of\nwhat had befallen him during the last three years; and Joseph gave\nthanks that Hazael was possessed of a mind that saw into recesses and\nappreciated fine shades.\n\nWe are glad to have thee back again, Jesus; and thou hast come to stay,\nand perhaps to take charge of our flock again, which needs thy guidance.\nHow so? Jesus asked. Hasn't the flock prospered under Brother Amos? Ah!\nthat is a long story, Hazael answered. We'll tell it thee when the time\ncomes. But thou hast brought dogs with thee, and of the breed that our\nshepherds are always seeking.\n\nIt was thus that Jesus and Hazael began to talk to each other, leaving\nJoseph to admire the vaulting of the long dwelling, and to wander out\nthrough the embrasure on to the balcony, from whence he could see the\nEssenes going to their work along the terraces. Among the ruins of the\nhermitage on the opposite side above the bridge, a brother fondled a pet\nlamb while he read. He is one, Joseph said to himself, that has found\nthe society of this cenoby too numerous for him, so he retired to a\nruin, hoping to draw himself nearer to God. But even he must have a\nliving thing by him; and then, his thoughts changing, he fell to\nthinking of the day when he would ride out to meet Jesus among the\nhills. His happiness was so intense in the prospect that he delighted in\nall he saw and heard: in the flight of doves that had just left their\ncotes and were flying now across the gorge, and in the soothing chant of\nthe water rising out of the dusk.\n\nJesus had told him that the gorge was never without water. The spring\nthat fed it rose out of the earth as by enchantment. Hazael's voice\ninterrupted his reveries: would you like, Sir, to visit our house? he\nasked, and he threw open the door and showed a great room, common to\nall. On either side of it, he said, are cells, six on one side, four on\nthe other, and into these cells the brethren retire after breaking\nbread, and it is in this domed gallery we sit at food. But Jesus has\nspoken to thee of these things, for though we do not speak to strangers\nof our rule of life, Jesus would not have transgressed in speaking of it\nto thee. Joseph asked for news of Banu, and was sorry to hear that he\nhad been killed and partially eaten by a lion.\n\nThe tidings seemed to affect Jesus strangely; he covered his face with\nhis hands, and Hazael repented having spoken of Banu, guessing that the\nhermit's death carried Jesus' thoughts into a past time that he would\nshut out for ever from his mind. He atoned, however, for his mistake by\nan easy transition which carried their discourse into an explanation of\nthe dissidence that had arisen among the brethren, and which, he said,\ncompelled us to come hither. The Essenes are celibates, and it used to\nbe my duty to go in search of young men whom I might judge to be well\ndisposed towards God, and to bring them hither with me so that they\nmight see what our life is, and, discovering themselves to be true\nservants of the Lord, adopt a life as delightful and easy to those who\nlove God truly as it is hard to them whose thoughts are set on the world\nand its pleasures. I have travelled through Palestine often in search of\nsuch young men, and many who came with me are still with me. It was in\nNazareth that we met, he said, and he stretched his hand to Jesus. Dost\nremember? And without more he pursued his story.\n\nThe brother, however, who succeeded me as missionary brought back only\nyoung men who, after a few months trial, fell away. It would be unjust\nfor me to say that the fault was with the missionary: times are not as\nthey used to be; the spirit of the Lord is not so rife nor so ardent now\nas it was once, and the dwindling of our order was the reason given for\nthe proposal that some of us should take wives. The argument put forward\nwas that the children born of these marriages would be more likely than\nother children to understand our oaths of renunciation of the world and\nits illusions. It was pleaded, and I doubt not in good faith, that it\nwere better the Essenes should exist under a modified and more worldly\nrule than not to exist at all; and while unable to accept this view we\nhave never ceased to admire the great sacrifice that our erstwhile\nbrethren have made for the sake of our order. That the large majority\nwas moved by such an exalted motive cannot be doubted; but temptations\nare always about; everyone is the Adam of his own soul, and there may\nhave been a few that desired the change for less worthy motives. There\nwas a brother----\n\nAt that moment an accidental tread sent one of the puppies howling down\nthe dwelling, and Hazael, fearing that he might fall into the well and\ndrown there, sent Jesus to call him back. The puppy, however, managed to\nescape the well in time, and the pain in his tail ceasing suddenly he\nran, followed by his brother, out of the cenoby on to the rocks. I must\ngo after them, for they will roll down the rocks if left to themselves,\nJesus cried. A matter of little moment, Hazael replied, compared with\nthe greater calamity of drowning himself in the well, for it is of\nextraordinary depth and represents the labour of years. Wonderful are\nthe works of man, he added. But greater are the works of God, Joseph\nreplied. You did well to correct me, Hazael answered, for one never\nshould forget that God is over all things, and the only real\nsignificance man has, is his knowledge of God. But we were speaking of\nthe exodus of a few monks from the great cenoby on the eastern side of\nJordan.\n\nWe came hither for the reason that I have told. We left protesting that\neven if it were as our brethren said, and that the children of Essenes\nwould be more likely than the children of Pharisees and Sadducees to\nchoose to worship God according to the spirit rather than to wear their\nlives away in pursuit of vain conformity to the law--even if this were\nso, we said, man can only love God on condition that he put women aside,\nfor woman represents the five senses: pleasure of the eyes, of the ears,\nof the mouth, of the finger-tips, of the nostrils: we did not fail to\npoint out that though our brethren might go in and unto them for worthy\nmotives, yet in so doing they would experience pleasure, and sexual\npleasure leads to the pleasure of wine and food. One of the brethren\nsaid this might not be so if elderly women were chosen, and at first it\nseemed as if a compromise were possible. But a moment after, a brother\nreminded us that elderly women were not fruitful. To which I added\nmyself another argument, that a different diet from ours is necessary to\nthose who take wives unto themselves. Thou understandest me, Joseph?\nWomen have never been a temptation to me, Joseph answered, nor to Jesus,\nand in meditative mood he related the story of the wild man in the\nwoods, at the entrance of whose cave Jesus had laid a knife so that he\nmight cut himself free of temptation.\n\nAt this Hazael was much moved, and they talked of Jesus, Joseph saying\nthat he had suffered cruelly for teaching that the Kingdom of God is in\nour own hearts; for to teach that religion is no more than a personal\naspiration is to attack the law, which, though given to us by Moses,\nexisted beforetimes in heaven, always observed by the angels, and to be\nobserved by them for time everlasting. Jesus, then, set himself against\nthe Temple? Hazael said slowly, looking into Joseph's eyes. In a\nmeasure, Joseph answered, but it was the priests who exasperated the\npeople against him, and what I have come here for, beyond his\ncompanionship on the journey is to beg of you to put no questions to\nhim. A day may come when he will tell his story if he remain with thee.\nHere he is safe, Hazael said, and I pray God that he may remain with us.\nBut where is Jesus? Hazael asked, and they sought him in the terraces,\nwhere the monks were at work among the vines. See our fig-trees already\nin leaf. Without our figs we should hardly be able to live here, and it\nis thy transport that enables us to sell our grapes and our figs and the\nwine that we make, for we make wine, though there are some who think it\nwould be better if we made none.\n\nIt was thou that urged Pilate to free these hills from robbers, and\nhadst thou not done so we shouldn't have been able to live here. But I'm\nthinking of so many things that I have lost thought of him whom we seek.\nHe cannot have passed this way, unless, indeed, he descended the terrace\ntowards the bridge, and he could hardly have done that. He has gone up\nthe hills, and they will help to put the past out of his mind. And,\ntalking of Jesus' early life in the cenoby, and of his knowledge of\nflocks and suchlike, Hazael led Joseph through the long house and up\nsome steps on to a rubble path. The mountain seems to be crumbling,\nJoseph said, and looked askance at the quiet room built on the very\nverge of the abyss. Where thou'lt sleep when thou honourest us with a\nvisit, Hazael said, which will be soon, we trust, he continued; for we\nowe a great deal to thee, as I have already explained, and now thou\ncom'st with a last gift--our shepherd.\n\nOn these words they passed under an overhanging rock which Joseph said\nwould fall one day. One day, replied the Essene, all the world will\nfall, and I wish we were as safe from men as we are from this rock. Part\nof the bridge over the brook is of wood and it can be raised. But the\nledge on which we live can be reached only from the hills by this path,\nand it would be possible to raid us from this side. Thou seest here a\nwall, a poor one, it is true; but next year we hope to build a much\nstronger wall, some twenty feet high and several feet in thickness, and\nthen we shall be secure against the robbers if they would return to\ntheir caves. We have little or nothing to steal, but wicked men take\npleasure in despoiling even when there is nothing to gain: our content\nwould fill them with displeasure, he said, as he sought the key.\n\nBut on trying the door it was found to be unlocked, and Joseph said: it\nwill be no use building a wall twenty feet high to secure yourself from\nrobbers if you leave the door unlocked. It was Jesus that left the door\nunlocked, Hazael answered, he must have passed this way, we shall find\nhim on the hillside; and Joseph stood amazed at the uprolling hills and\ntheir quick descents into stony valleys. Beyond that barren hill there\nis some pasturage, Hazael said; and in search of Jesus they climbed\nsummit after summit, hoping always to catch sight of him playing with\nhis dogs in the shadow of some rocks, but he was nowhere to be seen, and\nHazael could not think else than that he had fallen in with Amos and\nyielded to the beguilement of the hills, for he has known them, Hazael\ncontinued, since I brought him here from Nazareth, a lad of fifteen or\nsixteen years, not more. We shall do better to return and wait for him.\nHe will remember us presently. To which Joseph answered, that since he\nwas so near Jericho he would like to go thither; a great pile of\nbusiness awaited his attention there, and he begged Hazael to tell Jesus\nthat he would return to bid him good-bye on his way back to Jerusalem\nthat evening, if it were possible to do so.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXV.\n\n\nIt was as Hazael had guessed: the puppies had scampered up the loose\npathway leading to the hills; Jesus had let them through the door, and\nhad followed them up the hills, saying to himself: they have got the\nscent of sheep.\n\nThe stubborn, unruly ground lay before him just as he remembered it,\nfalling into hollows but rising upwards always, with still a little\ngrass between the stones, but not enough to feed a flock, he remarked,\nas he wandered on, watching the sunrise unfolding, and thinking that\nAmos should be down by the Jordan, and would be there, he said to\nhimself, no doubt, were it not for the wild beasts that have their lairs\nin the thickets. Whosoever redeems the shepherd from the danger of\nlions, he added, as he climbed up the last ascents, will be the great\nbenefactor. But the wolves perhaps kill more sheep than lions, being\nmore numerous. It was at this moment that Brother Amos came into sight,\nand he walked so deep in meditation that he might have passed Jesus\nwithout seeing him if Jesus had not called aloud.\n\nWhy, Jesus, it is thou, as I'm alive, come back to us at last. Well,\nwe've been expecting thee this long while. And thou hast not come back\ntoo soon, as my poor flock testifies. I'm ashamed of them; but thou'lt\nnot speak too harshly of my flock to Hazael, who thinks if he complains\nenough he'll work me up into a good shepherd despite my natural turn for\nan indoor life. But I'd not have thee think that the flock perished\nthrough my fault, and see in them a lazy shepherd lying always at length\non the hillside. I walk with them in search of pasture from daylight\ntill dark, wearing my feet away, but to no purpose, as any man can see\nthough he never laid eyes on a sheep before. But it was thou, Brother,\nthat recommended me for a shepherd, and I can think of naught but my\nlove of wandering with thee on the hills, and listening to thee prating\nof rams and ewes, that put it into my head that I was a shepherd by\nnature and thy successor.\n\nThou wast brought up to the flock from thy boyhood, and a ram's head has\nmore interest for thee than a verse of Scripture; thy steady, easy gait\nwas always the finest known on these hills for leading a flock; but my\nfeet pain me after a dozen miles, and a shepherd with corny feet is like\na bird with a torn wing. Thou understandest the hardship of a shepherd,\nand that one isn't a shepherd for willing it; and I rely on thee,\nBrother, to take my part and to speak up for me when Hazael puts\nquestions to thee. So thou wouldst be freed from the care of the flock?\nJesus said. My only wish, he answered. But thou'lt make it clear to\nHazael that it was for lack of a good ram the flock fell away. I gave\nthee over a young ram with the flock, one of the finest on these hills,\nJesus said. Thou didst; and he seemed like coming into such a fine\nbeast, Amos answered, that we hadn't the heart to turn him among the\newes the first year but bred from the old fellow. An old ram is a waste,\nJesus replied, and he would have said more if Amos had not begun to\nrelate the death of the fine young beast that Jesus had bred for the\ncontinuance of the flock. We owe the loss of him, he said, to a ewe that\nno shepherd would look twice at, one of the ugliest in the flock, she\nseemed to me to be and to everybody that laid his eyes on her, and she\nought to have been put out of the flock, but though uninviting to our\neyes she was longed for by another ram, and so ardently that he could\nnot abide his own ewes and became as a wild sheep on the hills, always\non the prowl about my flock, seeking his favourite, and she casting her\nhead back at him nothing loath.\n\nIt would have been better if I had turned the evil ewe out of the flock,\nmaking him a present of her, but I kept on foiling him; and my own ram,\ntaking rage against this wild one, challenged him, and one day, seeing\nme asleep on the hillside, the wild ram came down and with a great bleat\nsummoned mine to battle. It seemed to me that heaven was raining\nthunderbolts, so loud was the noise of their charging; and looking out\nof my dreams I saw the two rams backing away from each other, making\nready for another onset. My ram's skull was the softer, he being a\nyoungling, it had been already shaken in several charges, and it was\nbroken in this last one, a terrible one it was, I can still hear them,\nthey are still at it in my mind--the ewes of both flocks gathered on\ndifferent sides, spectators.\n\nBut where were thy dogs all this while? Jesus inquired. My dogs! If I'd\nhad a Thracian he never would have suffered that the sheep killed each\nother. A Thracian would have awakened me. My dogs are of the soft Syrian\nbreed given to growling and no more. The wild ram might have become tame\nagain, and would doubtless have stayed with me as long as I had the ewe;\nbut he might have refused to serve any but she. No man can say how it\nwould have ended if I had not killed him in my anger. So thou wast left,\nJesus remarked, without a serviceable ram. With naught, Amos sighed, but\nthe old one, and he was that weary of jumping that he began to think\nmore of his fodder than ewes. Without money one can't get a well-bred\nram, as I often said to Hazael, but he answered me always that he had no\nmoney to give me, and that I must do as well as I could with the ram I\nhad.... He is gone now, but before he died he ruined my flock.\n\nIt is true that the shepherd's labour is wasted without a good ram,\nJesus repeated. Thou speakest but the truth, Amos replied; and knowing\nthe truth, forget not to speak well of me to Hazael, as a shepherd,\nfinding reason that will satisfy him for the dwindling of the flock that\nhenceforth will be in thy charge. Jesus said that he was willing to\nresume his charge, but did not know if Hazael and the brethren would\nreceive him back into the order after his long absence. Amos seemed to\nthink that of that there could be no doubt. All will be glad to have\nthee back ... thou'rt too useful for them to slight thee, he cried back,\nand Jesus returned to the cenoby dreaming of some grand strain that\nwould restore the supremacy of the flock.\n\nAs he passed down the gallery Hazael, who was sitting on the balcony,\ncried to him; Joseph, he said, waited an hour and has gone; he had\nbusiness to transact in Jericho. But, Jesus, what ails thee? It seems\nstrange, Jesus answered, he should have gone away like this. But have I\nnot told thee, Jesus, that he will return this evening to wish thee\ngood-bye. But he may not be able to return this evening, Jesus replied.\nThat is so, Hazael rejoined. He said that he might have to return to\nJerusalem at once, but he will not fail to ride out to meet thee in a\nfew days. But he will not find me on the hills, no tryst has been made,\nJesus said, as he turned away; and guessing his intention to be to leave\nat once for Jericho, Hazael spoke of Joseph's business in Jericho, and\nhow displeased he might be to meet Jesus in the middle of his business\nand amongst strangers. The Essenes are not well looked upon in\nJerusalem, he said. We do not send fat rams to the Temple. Fat rams,\nJesus repeated. Amos has been telling me that what lacks is a ram, and\nthe community had not enough money to buy one. That is true, Hazael\nsaid. Rams are hard to get even for a great deal of money. Joseph might\nlend us the money, he is rich. He will do that, Jesus answered, and be\nglad to do it. But a ram must be found, and if thou'lt give me all the\nmoney thou hast I will go in search of one. Joseph will remit to thee\nthe money I have taken from thee when he returns. It will be a surprise\nfor him to find in the flock a great fine ram of the breed that I\nremember to have seen on the western hills. I'll start at daybreak. Thou\nshalt have our shekels, Hazael said; they are few, but the Lord be with\nthee and his luck.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXVI.\n\n\nHis was the long, steady gait of the shepherd, and he had not proceeded\nfar into the hills before he was looking round acknowledging them, one\nafter the other; they were his friends, and his sheep's friends, having\ngiven them pasturage for many a year; and the oak wood's shade had been\nfriendly beforetimes to himself and his sheep. And he was going to rest\nin its shade once more. At noon he would be there, glad of some water;\nfor though the day was still young the sun was warm, the sky told him\nthat before noon his tongue would be cleaving to the sides of his mouth;\na fair prediction this was, for long before the oak wood came into sight\nhe had begun to think of the well at the end of the wood, and the\nquality of the water he would find in it, remembering that it used to\nhold good water, but the shepherds often forgot to replace the stopper\nand the water got fouled.\n\nAs he walked his comrades of old time kept rising up in his memory one\nby one; their faces, even their hands and feet, and the stories they\ntold of their dogs, their fights with the wild beasts, and the losses\nthey suffered from wolves and lions in the jungles along the Jordan. In\nold times these topics were the substance of his life, and he wished to\nhear the shepherds' rough voices again, to look into their eyes, to talk\nsheep with them, to plunge his hands once more into the greasy fleeces,\nyes, and to vent his knowledge, so that if he should happen to come upon\nnew men they would see that he, Jesus, had been at the job before.\n\nNow the day seems like keeping up, he said; but there was a certain fear\nin his heart that the valleys would be close and hot in the afternoon\nand the hill-tops uninviting. But his humour was not for fault-finding;\nand with the ram in view always--not a long-legged brute with a face\nlike a ewe upon him, but a broad, compact animal with a fine woolly\nhead--he stepped out gaily, climbing hill after hill, enjoying his walk\nand interested in his remembrance of certain rams he had once seen near\nC\u00e6sarea, and in his hope of possessing himself of one of these. With\nmoney enough upon me to buy one, he kept saying to himself, I shouldn't\ncome back empty-handed. But, O Lord, the the day is hot, he cried at the\nend of the fourth hour. But yonder is the oak wood; and he stopped to\nthink out the whereabouts of the well. A moment after he caught sight of\na shepherd: who is, no doubt, by the well, he said. He is, and trying to\nlift out the stopper; and the shepherd, catching sight of Jesus, called\nhim to come to his help, saying that it would need their united strength\nto get it out. We're moving it, the shepherd cried after a bit. We are,\nJesus replied. How is the water? Fair enough if thy thirst be fierce,\nthe shepherd replied. There is better about a mile from here, but I see\nthou'rt thirsty.\n\nAs soon as the men had quenched their thirst, the sheep came forward,\neach waiting his turn, as is their wont; and when the flock was watered\nit sought the shade of a great oak, and the twain, sitting under the\nburgeoning branches, began to talk. It was agreed between them that it\nwould not do to advise anybody to choose shepherding as a trade at\npresent, for things seemed to be going more than ever against the\nshepherd; the wild animals in the thickets along the Jordan had\nincreased, and the robbers, though many had been crucified, were\nbecoming numerous again; these did not hesitate to take a ewe or wether\naway with them, paying little for it, or not paying at all. But art thou\na shepherd? Jesus answered that he had been a shepherd--an erstwhile\nEssene, he said; one that has returned to the brethren. The Essenes are\ngood to the poor, the shepherd said, and glad to hear he was talking to\na mate, he continued his complaint, to which Jesus gave heed, knowing\nwell that it would not be long before they would be speaking of the\nbreed of sheep best suited to the hills; the which came to pass, for,\nlike Jesus, he lacked a good ram, and for the want of one, he said, his\nflock had declined. The better the breed, he continued, the more often\nit required renewing, and his master would not pay money for new blood,\nso he was thinking of leaving him; and to justify his intention he\npointed out the ram to Jesus that was to serve the flock that autumn,\nasking him how a shepherd could earn with such a one the few lambs that\nhe receives in payment if the flock increase under his care. He's four\nyears old if he's a day, Jesus muttered. He is that, the shepherd\nanswered; yet master told me yesterday he must serve another season, for\nhe won't put his hand in his pocket, rams being so dear; but nothing,\nsay I, is dearer than an old ram. I'm with thee in that, Jesus answered;\nand my plight is the same as thine. I'm searching for a ram, and have a\nfriend who would pay a great sum of money for one if one of the style I\nam looking for can be found.\n\nWell, luck will be with thee, but I know no ram on these hills that I'd\npay money for, the shepherd answered, none we see is better than yon\nbeast, and he is what thou seest him to be, a long-backed, long-legged,\nugly ram that would be pretty tough under the tooth, and whose fleece a\nshepherd would find thin in winter-time.\n\nBut there were once fine sheep on these hills, Jesus answered, and I\nremember a ram---- Ay, mate, thou mayest well remember one, and I think\nI know the shepherd that thou'rt thinking of, but he that owns the breed\nwill not sell a ram for the great sums of money that have been offered\nto him, for his pride is to keep the breed to himself. We've tried to\nbuy, and been watching this long while for a lucky chance to drive one\naway, for a man that has more than he needs and will not sell aught\nthereof calls the thief down into his house, as it were, creating the\nthief out of an honest man, for which he deserves to be punished. But\nthe rich are never punished and this man's shepherds are wary, and his\ndogs are fierce, and none has succeeded yet in getting a sample of the\nbreed.\n\nBut where may this man be found? Jesus asked, and the shepherd mentioned\na village high up on the mountains over against the sea. But go not\nthither, for twenty miles is a long walk if the end of it be but jeers\nand a scoffing. A scoffing! Jesus returned. Ay, and a fine one in thine\nears; and a fine thirst upon thee, the shepherd continued, and turning\nto the oak-tree he began to cut branches to feed his goats. Twenty miles\nuphill in front of me, Jesus meditated, with jeers and scoffings at the\nend of the journey, of which I have had plenty; and he began to walk\nquickly and to look round the hills in search of pasture for a flock,\nfor these hills were but faintly known to him. It isn't reasonable that\na man will not part with a ram for a great sum of money, he said, and\nthough he may not sell the lamb to his neighbours, whom he knows for\nrascals, he may sell to the Essenes, whose report is good. And he\ncontinued his way, stopping very often to think how he might find a\nbypath that would save him a climb; for the foot-hills running down from\nwest to east, off the main range, formed a sort of gigantic ridge and\nfurrow broken here and there, and whenever he met a shepherd he asked\nhim to put him in the way of a bypath; and with a word of counsel from a\nshepherd and some remembrance he discovered many passes; but despite\nthese easy ways the journey began to seem very long, so long that it\noften seemed as if he would never arrive at the village he was seeking.\nHe told me I'd find it on the last ridge looking seaward. He said I\ncouldn't miss it; and shading his eyes with his hand, Jesus caught sight\nof some roofs that he had not seen before. Maybe the roofs, he said, of\nthe village in which I shall find my ram, and maybe he who will sell me\nthe ram sits under that sycamore. If such be my fortune he will rise to\nmeet me, Jesus continued, and he strove against the faintness coming\nover him. Is there a fountain? he asked. By that arch the fountain\nflows, drink thy fill, wayfarer. His sight being darkened he could not\nsee the arch but stumbled against it and stood there, his face white and\ndrawn, his hand to his side, till, unable to bear up any longer, he\nfell.\n\nSomebody came to him with water, and after drinking a little he revived,\nand said he could walk alone, but as soon as they loosed him he fell\nagain, and when lifted from the ground a second time he asked for the\ninn, saying he had come a long way. Whereupon a man said, thou shalt\nrest in my house; I guess thee to be a shepherd, though thy garb isn't\naltogether a shepherd's. But my house is open to him who needs food and\nshelter. Lean on my arm.\n\nLet me untie thy sandals, were the next words Jesus heard, and when his\nfeet were bathed and he had partaken of food and drink and was rested,\nthe villager, whom Jesus guessed to be a shepherd, began to ask him\nabout the length of the journey from Jericho to C\u00e6sarea: we're three\nhours from C\u00e6sarea, he said; thou must have been walking many hours.\nMany hours indeed, Jesus answered. I've come from the Brook Kerith,\nwhich is five miles from Jericho. From the Brook Kerith? the villager\nrepeated. A shepherd I guessed thee to be. And a fair guess, Jesus\nanswered. A shepherd I am and in search of a ram of good breeding, sent\non hither by a shepherd. He did but make sport of thee, the villager\nanswered, for it is I that own the breed that all men would have. So a\nshepherd sent thee hither to buy a ram from me? No, Jesus replied, he\nsaid thou wouldst not sell. Then he was an honester shepherd than I\nthought for: he would have saved thee a vain journey, and it would have\nbeen well hadst thou listened to his counsel, for I will not part with\nthe breed; and my hope is that my son will not be tempted to part with\nthe breed, for it is through our sheep that we have made our riches,\nsuch small riches as we possess, he added, lest he should appear too\nrich in the eyes of a stranger. If thou'lt not sell I must continue my\njourney farther, Jesus answered. In quest of a ram? the shepherd said.\nBut thou'lt not find any but long-backed brutes tucked up in the belly\nthat offend the eye and are worse by far than a hole in the pocket. With\nsuch rams the hills abound. But get thee the best, though the best may\nbe bad, for every man must work according to his tools.\n\nIf thou asked me for anything but my breed of sheep I would have given\nit, for thy face and thy speech please me, but as well ask me for my\nwife or my daughter as for my rams. Be it so, Jesus answered, and he\nrose to continue his way, but his host said that having taken meat and\ndrink in his house he must sleep in it too, and Jesus, being tired,\naccepted the bed offered to him. He could not have fared farther; there\nwas no inn nor public guest-room, and in the morning his host might be\nin the humour to part with a ram for a great sum of money. But the\nmorning found his host in the same humour regarding his breed of\nsheep--determined to keep it; but in all other things willing to serve\nhis guest. Jesus bade him good-bye, sorry he could not persuade him but\nliking him all the same.\n\nIn two hours he was near the cultivated lands of C\u00e6sarea, and it seemed\nto him that his best chance of getting news of a ram would be to turn\nwestward, and finding bed and board in every village, he travelled far\nand wide in search of the fine rams that he had once caught sight of in\nthose parts. But the rams of yore seemed to have disappeared altogether\nfrom the country: thou mayest journey to C\u00e6sarea and back again, but\nthou'lt not find anything better than that I offer thee one man said to\nJesus, whereupon Jesus turned his back upon C\u00e6sarea and began the return\njourney sad and humble, but with hope still a-flutter in his heart, for\nhe continued to inquire after rams all the way till he came one bright\nmorning to the village in which lived the owner of the great breed of\nsheep that he coveted, honourably coveted, he muttered to himself, but\ncoveted heartily.\n\nThe sun was well up at the time, and Jesus had come by the road leading\nup from the coast. He had passed over the first ridge, and had begun to\nthink that he must be near the village in which the man lived who owned\nthe great breed of sheep when his thoughts were interrupted by a lamb\nbleating piteously, and, looking round, he saw one running hither and\nthither, seeking his dam. Now the lamb seeming to him a fine one, he was\nmoved to turn back to the village to tell the man he had lodged with\nthat a lamb of his breed had lost the ewe. Thou sayest well, the man\nanswered, and that lamb will seek vainly, for the ewe hurt her hoof, and\nwe kept her in the house so that she might be safer than with my\nshepherd out on the hills, and the luck we have had is that a panther\nbroke into our garden last night. We thought he had killed the lamb as\nwell, but he only took the ewe, and the lamb thou bringest me tidings\nof will be dead before evening. My thanks to thee, shepherd, for thy\npains. But, said Jesus, thou'lt sell me the lamb that runs bleating\nafter ewe, on the chance that I shall rear him? Whereat the villager\nsmiled and said: it seems hard to take thy money for naught, for thou\nhast a pleasant face; but who knows what luck may be with thee. For a\nshekel thou shalt have the lamb. Jesus paid the shekel, and his eyes\nfalling upon a bush in whose stems he knew he should find plenty of sap,\nhe cut some six or seven inches off, and, having forced out the sap,\nshowed it to the villager, and asked him for a rag to tie round the end\nof it. I hardly know yet what purpose thou'lt put this stem to, the\nshepherd said, but he gave Jesus the rag he asked for, and Jesus\nanswered: I've a good supply of ewe's milk drawn from the udder scarce\nan hour ago. Thou hast ewe's milk in thy bottle! the villager said. Then\nit may be I shall lose my breed through thoughtlessness. And it was with\na grave face that he watched Jesus tie a rag around the hollow stem.\n\nHe put the stem into the lamb's jaws and poured milk down it, feeding\nthe lamb as well as the ewe could have done. It may be I shall get him\nhome alive, Jesus muttered to himself. Thou'lt do it, if luck be with\nthee, and if thou canst rear him my breed has passed from me. Thou'lt be\nrewarded for taking my shekel, Jesus answered. A fine lamb for a month,\nthe villager remarked. One that will soon begin to weigh heavy in my\nbosom, Jesus answered; a true prophecy, for after a few miles Jesus was\nglad to let him run by his side; and knowing now no other mother but\nJesus, he trotted after him as he might after the ewe: divining perhaps,\nJesus said to himself, the leathern bottle at my girdle.\n\nBut very soon Jesus had to carry him again, and, despite his weight,\nthey were at noon by the well at the end of the oak wood. Lamb, we'll\nsleep awhile together in a pleasant hollow at the edge of the wood. Lay\nthyself down and doze. The lamb was obedient, but before long he awoke\nJesus with his bleating. He wants some milk, he said, and undid the\nleather girdle and placed the feeding-pipe into the lamb's mouth. But\nbefore giving him milk he was moved to taste it: for if the milk be\nsour---- The milk has soured, he said, and the poor bleating thing will\ndie in the wood, his bleatings growing fainter and fainter. He'll look\ninto my face, wondering why I do not give him the bottle from which he\ntook such a good feed only a few hours ago; and while Jesus was thinking\nthese things the lamb began to bleat for his milk, and as Jesus did not\ngive it to him he began to run round in search of the ewe, and Jesus let\nhim run, hoping that a wild beast would seize and carry him away and\nwith his fangs end the lamb's sufferings quicker than hunger could.\n\nBut no wolf or panther was in the thicket, and the lamb returned to him:\nbrought back, he said, by a memory of the bottle. But, my poor wee lamb,\nthere is no sweet milk in my bottle, only sour, which would pain thee.\nThink no more of life, but lie down and die: we shall all do the same\nsome day.... Thy life has been shorter than mine, and perhaps better for\nthat. No, I've no milk for thee and cannot bear to look in thy face: run\naway again in search of the ewe and find instead the panther that took\nher. Poor little lamb, dying for milk in this wild place. So thou hast\nreturned to me, having found neither ewe nor panther. Go, and seek a\nwolf, he will be a better friend to thee than I.\n\nHe had seen many lambs die and did not understand why he should feel\nmore pain at this lamb's death than another's. But it was so; and now\nall his hopes and fears centred in this one thing that Fate had\nconfided to his bosom. A little milk would save it, but he had no milk.\nHe might pick him up and run, calling to the shepherds, but none would\nhear. I cannot listen to his bleating any longer, he said, and tried to\nescape from the lamb, but he was followed round the trees, and just as\nhe was about to climb into one out of the lamb's sight his nostrils\ncaught the scent of fleeces coming up the hillside. A shepherd is\nleading his flock to the well-head, he said, so, wee lamb, thou wilt not\ndie to-day, and, addressing himself to the shepherd, he said: I've got a\nlamb of the right breed, but have no milk to give him. Canst thou pay\nfor it? the shepherd asked; and Jesus said, I can, and the shepherd\ncalled a ewe and the lamb was fed.\n\nWell, luck is in thy way, the shepherd said, for I was on my way to\nanother well, and cannot tell what came into my mind and turned me from\nit and brought me up here. Every life, Jesus said, is in the hands of\nGod, and it was not his will to let this lamb die. Dost believe, the\nshepherd answered, that all is ordered so? And Jesus answered him:\nthou'lt fill my bottle with milk? The shepherd said: I will; but thou\nhast still a long way before the lamb can be fed again. Hide thy bottle\nunder a cool stone in yon forest and in the evening the milk will still\nbe sweet and thou canst feed thy lamb again and continue thy journey by\nstarlight. But these hills are not my hills; mine are yonder, Jesus\nsaid, and at night all shapes are different. No matter, the way is\nsimple from this well, the shepherd answered, and he gave Jesus such\ndirections as he could follow during the night. Now mind thee, he\ncontinued, look round for a shepherd at daybreak. He'll give thee fresh\nmilk for thy lamb and by to-morrow evening thou'lt be by the Brook\nKerith. And this advice appearing good to Jesus, he turned into the\nshade of the trees with his lamb, and both slept together side by side\ntill the moon showed like a ghost in the branches of the trees.\n\nIt was time then to feed the lamb, and the milk being sweet in the\nbottle, the lamb drank it greedily; and when he had drunk enough Jesus\nwas tempted to drink what the lamb could not drink, for he was thirsty\nafter eating his bread, but he went to the well and took a little water\ninstead, and lay down, telling the lamb that he might sleep but a little\nwhile, for they must be ready at midnight to travel again. If we meet a\nshepherd thou livest, if he fail us thou diest. Jesus said, and seeing a\nshepherd leaving a cavern at dawn with his flock, Jesus called to him\nand bought milk from him and once more the twain continued their\njourney, the lamb becoming so dependent on the shepherd that Jesus took\npleasure sometimes in hiding himself behind a rock, and as soon as the\nlamb missed him he would run to and fro bleating in great alarm till he\nfound Jesus; and when he came upon him he thrust his nozzle into Jesus'\nhand.\n\nIt was then more than at any time he delighted in being carried. No, my\ngood lamb, I've carried thee far and now can barely carry myself to the\nbridge; and the lamb had to follow to the bridge, and they began to\nascend the terraces together, but the steep ascents very soon began to\ntire him, and the lamb lay down and bleated for Jesus to take him up in\nhis arms, which he did, but, overcome with the weariness of a long\njourney, he had to lay him down after a few paces. Yet he would not\nsurrender the lamb to the brethren who came and offered to carry him,\nsaying: I have carried him so far and will carry him to the end, but ye\nmust let me rest on your arms. Meanwhile, fetch me a little milk, for\nthe lamb has had all that I could buy from the shepherds on the hills,\nand do not ask how I became possessed of this lamb, for I am too tired\nto tell the story. So did he speak, holding the lamb to his bosom; and\nleaning on the arm of one of the brethren while another pushed from\nbehind, and in this exhausted state he reached the cenoby.\n\nNow I must feed my lamb; go to Brother Amos and ask him to bring some\newe's milk at once. But the brethren were loath to go, saying: Brother\nAmos is feeding his sheep far from here, but will return in the evening.\nBut the lamb must be fed every three or four hours, Jesus answered, and\ndo ye go at once to Amos and tell him to bring the milk at once. He must\nnot be kept waiting for his milk. Now look at him and say if any of ye\nhave seen a finer lamb. I can speak no more, but will sleep a little as\nsoon as I have placed him in a basket. But wake me up as soon the milk\ncomes, for I will trust none to feed him but myself, and he dropped off\nto sleep almost on these words.\n\nThe Essenes, understanding that the lamb had caused Jesus a long search,\nwent after Amos as they were bidden, and finding him not as far as they\nthought for with his flock, they related to him Jesus' request that he\nshould bring some ewe's milk at once, which he did, and seeing Jesus in\ndeep sleep he said: it is a pity to waken him, for I know how to feed a\nlamb as well as he does. May I not? But the Essenes said: he'll be vexed\nindeed if the lamb be fed by any but him. So be it, Amos answered; and\nthey roused Jesus with difficulty, for his sleep was deep, and when he\nopened his eyes he knew not where he was for some time. At last memory\nreturned to him, and, struggling from the couch, he said: I must feed my\nlamb. The milk is fresh from the ewe? he asked. Yes, Jesus, Amos\nanswered, I have just drawn it from the udder. As soon as he is old\nenough to run with the flock I'll bring him, Jesus said, and thou'lt be\nfree to return to the Scriptures.\n\nAnd having asked that he might be awaked in four hours his eyes closed,\nwhich is not to be wondered at, he having slept hardly at all for four\ndays. Does he put his lamb before the Scriptures? the Essenes asked each\nother, and they withdrew, shaking their heads.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXVII.\n\n\nJesus fell back into sleep as soon as the lamb was fed, and it was in\nthis second sleep of more than six hours that he regained his natural\nstrength. Has Joseph returned? he asked on awakening, and the brother\nnearest him answered that he had not; whereupon Jesus asked that Hazael\nshould come to him, and he said to him: Hazael, Joseph told thee that as\nsoon as his business was transacted in Jericho he would return hither,\nand if that were not possible the delay would not be long. But four days\nhave passed and we haven't seen him nor have we news of him. Now how is\nthis? He couldn't have heard in Jericho nor in Jerusalem of my faring\namong the hills of C\u00e6sarea in search of a lamb. It was only on those\nhills that I might find a lamb that would recover for us the strength\nthat has gone out of the flock. And I would that Joseph were here to see\nhim that I've brought back. My heart misgives me. Thou'lt feed him in my\nabsence, he said to one of the brethren, and I'll go down on to the\nterraces and wander across the bridge, for on the hills over yonder I\nmay catch sight of Joseph coming to meet me. Can none tell me if he will\ncome from Jericho or Jerusalem? A brother cried that he would feed the\nlamb as Jesus directed, and the brethren at work among the fig-trees\nspoke to each other of the grief visible on Jesus' face as he passed\nthem and questioned each other and sought a reason for it. Has the lamb\nfallen sick? one asked, and on that thought they ran up the terraces to\ninquire for the lamb, who, that day, had been given the name of C\u00e6sar.\nThe lamb sleeps in peace, Hazael answered, but Jesus, his saviour, has\ngone out in great disorder of mind to get tidings of Joseph, the great\ntrader in figs and dates. He promised to return the same evening after\ntransacting his business in Jericho, Hazael continued. Four days have\npassed away without news of him; some misfortune may have befallen him.\nMay have! Hazael repeated under his breath as he walked away. _Has_\nbefallen him without doubt.\n\nThe brethren waited for Jesus to return, but he did not return to them;\nand at nightfall a watch was set at the bridge head, and the same was\ndone for many succeeding days, till the story reached the Brook Kerith\nthat Joseph had been killed in the streets of Jerusalem by order of the\nZealots. Priests never forget to revenge themselves on those that do not\nsubmit to their ideas and exactions, Hazael muttered, thereby stirring\nthe curiosity of the brethren; but he could not tell them more, Joseph's\nrelation having been insufficient to make plain the truth that Joseph,\nas Jesus' friend, must have earned the High Priest's displeasure. A very\nlittle suspicion, he said to himself, is enough to bring about the death\nof a man in our days; and the priests were always jealous and afraid of\nprophets. Is then our Jesus a prophet? Saddoc asked, and Manahem's eyes\nwere full of questions. I can tell ye no more than I've said already,\nHazael answered, and the brethren forgot their curiosity, for their\nhearts were stirred with pity. A great grief it surely will be, they\nsaid to one another, when Jesus returns and hears that his friend is\ndead, and they asked which among them should be the one to tell him of\nthis great loss that had befallen him. Not I, said one, nor I, another\nanswered, and as they passed into their cells it was the opinion of all\nthat Hazael should tell him.\n\nNext morning when they came forth from their cells, after giving thanks\nfor the returning light, they stood on the hillside, hoping that every\nminute would bring them sight of Jesus returning. At last a shepherd\ncame through the dusk, but it was not Jesus but Amos coming towards\nthem, and the news he brought was that he had met Jesus on the hills\nwandering like one of disordered mind. He has taken my sheep from me and\nhas lost them, I fear. But why, the brethren cried, didst thou leave thy\nsheep to him? To which Amos could make no straightforward answer: all he\nknew was that he had met Jesus and been greatly frightened by his speech\nand his show of gestures and demeanour. All the same, he said, I felt I\nhad better let him have the sheep. And the brethren said: ruin has\nbefallen us this time. We know the reason of the disordered mind that\nthou tellest of. Joseph was slain by the Zealots in Jerusalem by order\nof the priests, and the tidings must have come to Jesus as he wandered\nout on to the hills seeking his friend, and it was they that robbed him\nof his mind. We are ruined, the brethren cried, for our sheep are with\nhim, and he without thought for anything but his grief. Amos could not\nanswer them nay, for their words seemed to him but the truth, and they\nall returned to the cenoby to mourn for Jesus and themselves till Jesus\nwas brought back to them by some shepherds who found him wandering,\ngiving no heed to the few sheep that followed him; only a few had\nescaped the wolves, and the brethren charged Amos with the remnant,\nmuttering among themselves: his heart is broken. He is without knowledge\nof us or the world around him. But why does he turn aside from our\ndwelling preferring to lie with his dogs under the rocks? It is for that\nour dwelling reminds him of Joseph. It was here he saw him last, Manahem\nreplied. It will be well to leave him to wander at will, giving him food\nif his grief allows him to come for it; any restraint would estrange him\nfrom us, nor may we watch him, for when the mind is away man is but\nanimal; and animals do not like watchful eyes. We may only watch over\nhim lest he do himself bodily harm, Eleazar said, There is no harm,\nManahem said, he can do himself, but to walk over the cliffs in a dream\nand so end his misery. We would not that the crows and vultures fed on\nJesus, Caleb answered. We must watch lest he fall into the dream of his\ngrief.... But he lives in one. Behold him now. He sees not the cliffs\nover yonder nor the cliffs beneath. Nor does he hear the brook murmur\nunder the cliffs. Grief is a wonderful thing, Manahem said, it\noverpowers a man more than anything else; it is more powerful even than\nthe love of God, but it wears away; and in this it is unlike the love of\nGod, which doesn't change, and many of us have come here so that we may\nlove God the better without interruptions. It is strange, Eleazar said,\nthat one who loves God as truly as Jesus, should abandon himself to\ngrief. Eleazar's words caused the Essenes to drop into reveries and\ndreams, and when they spoke out of these their words were: his grief is\nmore like despair. And in speaking these words they were nearer the\ntruth than they suspected, for though Jesus grieved and truly for\nJoseph, there was in his heart something more than mortal grief.\n\nIt often seemed to him as he sat gazing across the abyss that his\ntemerity in proclaiming himself the Messiah was punished enough by\ncrucifixion: the taking from him of the one thing that crucifixion had\nleft behind often put the thought into his mind that God held him\naccursed; and in his despair he lost faith in death, believing he would\nbe held accursed for all eternity. He forgot to take food and drink; he\nfed upon his grief and would have faded out of life if C\u00e6sar had not\nconceived a dislike to his keeper and run bleating among the rocks till\nhe came upon Jesus whom he recognised at once and refused to leave,\nthrusting a nozzle into Jesus' hand and lying down by his side. Nor\ncould the brethren beguile the lamb from Jesus with milk, and Jesus\ntaking pity on the faithful animal said: give me the feeding bottle, I\nwill feed him. Whereupon C\u00e6sar began to bleat, and so cheerfully, that\nall conceived a new affection for him, but he had none for anybody but\nJesus, whom he followed about the cliffs as a dog might, lying down at\nhis side.\n\nThe twain strayed together whither there was scarce foothold for either,\nand the brethren said as they watched them: if C\u00e6sar were to miss his\nfooting and fall over the edge, the last link would be broken and Jesus\nwould go over after him. But sheep and goats never miss their footing, a\nbrother answered. It is fortunate, another replied, that C\u00e6sar should\nhave attached himself to Jesus. He seems to say, I get happier and\nhappier every day, and his disposition will react on Jesus and may win\nhim out of his melancholy.\n\nAnd it seemed as if the brother had guessed rightly, for though Jesus'\nface showed no interest in the brethren, nor in the cenoby, he seemed to\nenjoy the sympathy of the dumb animal. He liked to call to C\u00e6sar and to\nlay his hand upon C\u00e6sar's head, and to look into his eyes, and in those\nmoments of sympathy the brethren said: he forgets his grief. But C\u00e6sar\nis coming into ramhood, Saddoc answered, and will have to go away with\nthe flock. There were brethren who cried out against this: let the flock\nperish rather than Jesus should be deprived of C\u00e6sar. Wouldst have him\nremain when he is a great ram? Manahem asked, and the others answered:\nyes, for Jesus takes no thought for anything but C\u00e6sar, and the\nbrethren conferred together, and spent much thought in trying to\ndiscover a remedy other than C\u00e6sar for Jesus' grief.\n\nBut one day Jesus said to the brethren: C\u00e6sar is coming into ramhood,\nand I must take him away to the hills, he must come with me and join the\newes. Art thou going to be our shepherd again? said they. If ye will\nentrust the flock to me. My thoughts will never wander from it again.\nJesus spoke the words significantly, and many of the brethren believed\nthat he would prove himself to be the great shepherd that he was of\nyore, but others said: his grief will break out upon him on the hills;\nbut these counsels were overruled by Manahem and Saddoc. Jesus, Saddoc\nsaid, never smiles and his words are few, but he is himself again, and\nthe best shepherd that ever walked these hills is worse than he, so it\nis said. He lost a few sheep, Manahem said, in the first days of his\ngreat grief, but his mind is altogether now on the encouragement of the\nflock and Amos is wearied of it and would return to the reading of the\nScriptures. Thou speakest well, Manahem, Saddoc returned, for it was in\nhis mind as it was in Manahem's that the sight of men and the sound of\nmen's voices were a torture to Jesus, and that he longed for solitude\nand silence and the occupation of the flock.\n\nThe cenoby will never be the same again without our pet, some of the\nbrethren cried, but others said: it must be so. We'll go to see C\u00e6sar's\nlambs, they cried, as he was being led away. There will be no lambs by\nC\u00e6sar this spring, Jesus answered. He'll run with the ewes and that's\nabout all; for a ram is not fit for service till he is two years old.\nWhereupon the distraction of Jesus' grief being removed from the\ncenoby, the Essenes fell to talking again of the great schism and what\ncame of it. Are our brothers happier in wedlock than we are in celibacy?\nwas the question they often put to each other on the balcony; and a\nsudden meeting of thoughts set them comparing the wives beyond Jordan\nwith the ewes of the hills. Which are the most fruitful? they asked\nthemselves; and it was averred that though twin lambs were of equal\nworth, it might fall out in the strange destinies that beset human life\nthat one of human twins might be a robber and the other a devout Essene.\n\nOn a balcony overhanging an abyss some hundred feet in depth, through\nwhich a brook sings a monotonous song, men may dream a long while on the\nproblem of destiny, and on awaking from their different meditations it\nwas natural that they should speak about the difficulties the brethren\nby the lake would experience when they set themselves to discover women\nwho would accept the rule of life of the Essenes and for no enjoyment\nfor themselves, but that the order might not perish, and with it\nholiness pass out of the world.\n\nOf what women will they possess themselves? a brother often asked. Not\nJewish women, who would prefer to join themselves with Pharisees or\nSadducees rather than with Essenes, and the converts, the brother\ncontinued, that might be made among the Gentile women from Mesopotamia\nand Arabia could not be counted upon to produce pious children, though\nthe fathers that begot the children might be themselves of great piety.\nThese words put the thought into another brother's mind, that a woman\nis never faithful to one man, an abiding doctrine among the Essenes: and\nthe group of three, Caleb, Eleazar and Benjamin, began to speak of the\nstirs and quarrels that these converts would provoke in the cenoby. For\neven amongst those who have renounced women, there are always a few that\nretain a longing for women in their heart, and the smouldering embers\nwill burst into flame at the sight of woman. Is not that so, Benjamin?\nThere is much truth in thy words, Caleb, Benjamin answered, and I would\nknow if they partition off the women into an enclosure by themselves,\nand only take them out at a time judged to be the fruitfullest, for it\nis not lawful for us to experience pleasure, and as soon as the women\nare with child, the brethren we have left behind, I trust, withdraw from\nthe company of their wives. Unless, said Eleazar, all the rules of our\norder be abolished. We did well to leave them, Caleb answered. And then,\nposing his small fat hands on the parapet, he said: women have ever been\nlooked upon as man's pleasure, and our pleasures are as wolves, and our\nvirtues are as sheep, and as soon as pleasure breaks into the fold the\nsheep are torn and mangled. We're better here with our virtues than they\nby the lake with their pleasures.\n\nTrouble has begun amongst them already, Eleazar said, and Benjamin\nturned to ask him if he had gotten news of the brethren by the lake; and\nhe answered that yesterday a shepherd told him that many brothers had\nleft the settlement. We did well, Caleb said, to cherish our celibacy,\nand the price of living on this rock was not too high a price for it.\nBut tell us what thou hast heard, Eleazar. Eleazar had heard that\ntroubles were begun, but he hoped children would bring peace to all. But\nall women aren't fruitful, Caleb said, and Benjamin was vexed with\nEleazar because he hadn't asked how many women were already quick. And\nthey fell to talking scandal, putting forward reasons why some of the\nbrethren should separate themselves from their wives.\n\nPerhaps we shall never know the why and the wherefore, Eleazar said, it\nbeing against our rules to absent ourselves without permission from the\ncenoby, and if we were to break this rule, Hazael might refuse to\nreceive us again. We should wander on the hills seeking grass and roots,\nfor our oaths are that we take no food from strangers. Yet I'd give much\nto hear how our brethren, for they are our brethren, fare with their\nwives.\n\nAnd when they met on the balcony, the elder members of the community,\nHazael, Mathias, Saddoc and Manahem, like the younger members conferred\ntogether as to whether any good could come to those that had taken wives\nto themselves for their pleasure. Not for their pleasure, Hazael said,\nbut that holiness may not pass out of the world for ever. But as\nholiness, Mathias was moved to remark, is of the mind, it cannot be\naffected by any custom we might impose upon our corporeal nature.\nWhereupon a disputation began in which Manahem urged upon Mathias that\nif he had made himself plain it would seem that his belief was that\nholiness was not dependent upon our acts; and if that be so, he asked,\nwhy do we live on this ledge of rock? To which question Mathias\nanswered that the man whose mind is in order need not fear that he will\nfall into sin, for sin is but a disorder of the mind.\n\nA debate followed regarding the relation of the mind to the body and of\nthe body to the mind, and when all four were wearied of the old\ndiscussion, Saddoc said: is it right that we should concern ourselves\nwith these things, asking which of the brothers have taken wives, and\nhow they behave themselves to their wives? It seems to me that Saddoc is\nright, these matters don't concern us who have no wives and who never\nwill have. But, said Manahem, though this question has been decided so\nfar as our bodies are concerned, are we not justified in considering\nmarriage as philosophers may, no subject being alien to philosophy? Is\nnot that so, Mathias? No subject is alien to philosophy, Mathias agreed,\nto which Saddoc replied: we could discuss this matter with profit if we\nknew which of the brothers had taken to himself a wife; but only rumours\nreach us here; and the brethren looked across the chasm, their thoughts\ncrossing it easily and passing over the intervening hills down into the\nplains and over Jordan. We should no doubt be content, said Manahem,\nwith our own beliefs, and abide in the choice that we have made without\nquestioning it further, as Hazael has said. Yet it is hard to keep\nthoughts of the brethren we have left out of our minds. How are we,\nHazael, to remain unmoved when rumours touching on the lives of those we\nhave left behind reach us? Is it not merely natural that we should\ndesire to hear how our brethren fare in married life? Dost think,\nHazael, that those we left behind never ask each other how we fare in\nour celibacy? Man is the same all the world over inasmuch as he would\nlike to hear he has avoided the pitfall his brother has fallen into. It\nis said, Manahem continued, that the elders yonder are disturbed now as\nto whether they too should take wives, though in the great disputation\nthat we took part in, it was decided that marriage should be left to the\nyounger and more fruitful. Wherefore, if it is said that trouble has\ncome, Hazael answered, we should be sorry for our weak brethren, and if\nstories reach us, he continued, we should receive them with modesty: we\nshould not go out to seek stories of the misfortunes of those who have\nnot been as wise as we, and of all we should not wish to go down to\nJordan to inquire out the truth of these stories; Caleb and Benjamin ask\nbetimes for leave to visit them. Eleazar, too, has asked; but I have\nrefused them always, knowing well whither their curiosity would lead\nthem. Lest, Mathias interposed, they bring back the spirit and sense of\nwomen with them.\n\nA flock of doves crossing over the chasm on quick wings put an end to\nthe discourse, and as no more stories reached them who dwelt in the\ncavern above the Brook Kerith regarding the behaviour of the wives to\ntheir husbands and of the husbands towards their wives, the thoughts of\nthe younger brethren reverted to C\u00e6sar, and to the admiration of the\newes for his beauty. A year later, when Jesus came down from the hills,\nhe was met with cries of: how fares it with C\u00e6sar? Does he tire on the\nhills? When will the ewes begin to drop their lambs? A buzz of talk\nbegan at once in the cenoby when the news arrived that C\u00e6sar's lambs\nwere appearing, but the brethren could not conceal their disappointment\nthat they should look like the lambs they had seen before. We expected\nthe finest lambs ever seen on these hills, they said, and thou hast no\nmore word to say in praise of them than that they are good lambs. Jesus\nanswered that in two months he would be better able to judge C\u00e6sar's\nlambs, and to choose amongst them some two or three that would continue\nthe flock worthily. Which? the brethren asked, but Jesus said a choice\nwould be but guess-work at present, none could pick out the making of a\ngood ram till past the second month. Caleb marked one which he was sure\nwould be chosen later, and Benjamin another, and Eleazar another; but\nwhen the time came for Jesus to choose, it was none of these that he\nchose, and on hearing of their mistakes, the brethren were disappointed,\nand thought no more of the flock, asking only casually for C\u00e6sar, and\nforgetting to mourn his decease at the end of the fourth year; his\nsuccessor coming to them without romantic story, the brethren were from\nhenceforth satisfied to hear from time to time that the hills were free\nfrom robbers; that the shepherds had banded together in great wolf\nhunts; and that freed from their natural enemies, the wolves and\nrobbers, the flock had increased in numbers beyond the memory of the\noldest shepherd on the hills.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXVIII.\n\n\n\nThe brethren waxed rich, and after their midday meal they talked of the\nexceeding good fortune that had been vouchsafed to them, dwelling on the\nmatter so earnestly that a scruple sometimes rose up in their hearts.\nDid we do well to forgo all troubles? Do the selfish find favour in\nGod's sight? they were asking, when Caleb said: we have visitors to-day,\nand looking across the chasm they saw three men emerging from the shadow\nof the high rock. They may be robbers, Benjamin cried, and we would do\nwell to tell the brethren working along the terraces to pass the word\ndown to him who stands by the bridge-head that he is to raise the bridge\nand refuse to lower it till the strangers speak to him of their\nintentions and convince him that they are peaceful. That is well said,\nBenjamin, Eleazar replied: Amos, who is standing by the fig-tree yonder,\nwill pass on the word. They cried out to him and watched the warning\nbeing passed from Essene to Essene till it reached the brother standing\nby the bridge-head. He looked in the direction of the strangers coming\ndown the path, and then in haste set himself to pull the ropes and press\nthe levers whereby the bridge was raised and lowered. Now they are\nspeaking across the brook to each other, Benjamin said: and the group on\nthe balcony saw the bridge being let down for the strangers to cross\nover. It seems to me, Benjamin continued, Bartholomew might have spent\nmore time inquiring out their intentions. But we are many and they are\nfew, Caleb answered, and the Essenes on the balcony watched somewhat\nanxiously Bartholomew conducting the strangers back and forth through\nthe terraces. Is not Bartholomew as trustworthy as any amongst us?\nEleazar asked. It isn't likely that he would mistake robbers for\npilgrims; and as if Bartholomew divined the anxiety of those above him\nhe called up the rocks that the visitors he was bringing were Essenes\nfrom the lake. Essenes from the lake! Caleb cried. Then we shall learn,\nEleazar replied, which is preferable, celibacy or marriage. But we\nmustn't speak at once to them of such matters. We must prepare food for\nthem, which they will require after their long journey. Our president\nwill be with you in a moment, Bartholomew said, addressing Shallum, a\ntall thin man, whose long neck, sloping shoulders and dark round eyes\nreminded his brethren of an ungainly bird. His companions, Shaphan and\nEleakim, were of different appearances. Shaphan's skull, smooth and\nglistening, rose, a great dome above a crumpled face; he moped like a\nsick monkey, dashing tears from his eyes continually, whereas Eleakim, a\nsprightly little fellow with half-closed eyes like a pig, agreed that\nShallum should speak for them. Shallum began: we are, as you have\nalready heard, from the great cenoby at the head of the lake and,\ntherefore, I need not tell you the reason why you are here and why the\nresidue are yonder, but will confine myself to the story of our flight\nfrom the lake to the brook. Honourable President and Brethren, it is\nknown unto you that the division of our order was not brought about by\nany other reason than a dispute on both sides for the maintenance of the\norder. We know that, Hazael answered, and attribute no sinfulness to the\nbrethren that differed from us. Our dream, Shallum continued, was to\nperpetuate holiness in this world, and our dream abides, for man is a\nreality only in his dreams; his acts are but a grotesque of his dream.\n\nAt these words the Essenes gathered close together, and with brightening\neyes listened, for they interpreted these words to mean that the\nbrethren by the lake had fallen headlong into unseasonable pleasures,\nwhereof they were now reaping the fruit: no sweet one, if the fruit\nmight be judged by the countenances of their visitors. As I have said,\nShallum continued, it was with us as it has been with men always--our\nacts became a mockery of our dreams almost from the beginning, for when\nyou left us we gave out that we were willing to receive women who would\nshare our lives and with us perpetuate holiness. We gave out that we\nwere willing to view all who came and consider their qualifications, and\nto take them as wives if they should satisfy us, that they would obey\nour rule and bear children; but the women that came in response to our\nadvertisement, though seemingly of pious and honourable demeanour, were\nnot satisfied with us. Our rule is, as you brethren know well, to wear\nthe same smock till it be in rags, and never to ask for a new pair of\nsandals till the last pieces of the old pair have left our feet. We\npresented, therefore, no fair show before the women who came to us, and\nwhen our rule was told to them, they withdrew, dissatisfied with our\nappearances, with the food we ate, and the hours we kept, and of all\nwith the rule that they should live apart from us, only keeping company\nwith us at such times when women are believed to be most fruitful. Such\nwas the first batch in brief; the second batch (they came in batches)\npleaded that they could not be wives for us, it being that we were held\nin little esteem by the Sadducees and the Pharisees, and we were\nreproved by them for not sending animals for sacrifice to the Temple, a\nthing that we must do if we would have them live with us. But it being\nagainst our rule to send animals to the Temple for sacrifice, we bade\nthem farewell and sent forth messengers into other lands, inviting the\nGentiles to come to us to receive instruction in the Jewish religion,\nwith promises to them that if our rule of life was agreeable to them,\nand they were exact in the appointments of all rites and ceremonies, we\nshould be willing to marry them after their time of probationship was\nover. On this second advertisement, women came to us from Arabia and\nMesopotamia, and though we did not approve of the fine garments they\nwore and the sweet perfumes that trailed after them, we liked these\nthings, as all men do, with our senses; and our minds being filled with\nthoughts of the children that would continue the order of the Essenes,\nwe spoke but little against the fine linen that these women brought and\nthe perfumes they exhaled, whereby our ruin was consummated. Joazabdus,\nour president, himself fell into the temptation of woman's beauty and\nwas led into sinful acquiescence of a display of the images she had\nbrought with her; for without a display of them on either side of the\nbridal bed she would not permit his embraces. She was of our religion in\nall else, having abjured her gods and goddesses at every other moment of\nthe day and night; but licence of her body she could not grant except\nunder the eyes of Astarte, and Joazabdus, being a weak man, allowed the\nimages to remain. As soon as the news of these images spread, we went in\ndeputation to our president to beg him to cast out the images from our\nmidst, but he answered us: but one image remains--that of Astarte: none\nlooks upon it but she, and if I cast out the image that she reverences\nshe will go hence and with the fruit of my body within her body, and a\nsaint may be lost to us. But we answered him that even as Jacob set up\nparti-coloured rods before the conceiving ewes that they might bear\nparti-coloured lambs, so to gaze in the marriage-bed upon the image of\nAstarte would surely stamp upon the children that might come the image\nof that demon. But he was not to be moved, whereupon we withdrew, saying\nto one another: we shall not move him out of his wickedness; and that\nwas why we went to his brother Daddeus and asked him to accept the\nheadship of the community in his brother's place. And seeing that he was\nunwilling to set himself against his brother, we said: our God comes\nbefore all things, and here we have heathen goddesses in our midst; and\nthe end of it was that Cozby, that was the Chaldean woman's name, put\npoison into Daddeus' food, thinking to establish her rule thereby, but\nas soon as the death of Daddeus became known many left the cenoby\npolluted in their eyes by heathenism and murder.\n\nSo it always falls out, Hazael cried, wine and women have lost the world\nmany saints. Wine deceives the minds of those that drink it, and it\nexalts men above themselves, and leads them into acts that in any other\nmoment they would shrink from, leaving them more stupid than the\nanimals. Nor is the temptation of women less violent than that of wine.\nWomen's beauty is even more potent, for once a man perceives it he\nbecomes as if blind to all other things; his reason deserts him, he\nbroods upon it by day, and falls at last, as our brother has told us,\ninto unseasonable pleasures, like Solomon himself, about whom many\nthings are related, but not so far as I know that he became so\nintoxicated with women's various beauty that he found his pleasure at\nlast in his own humiliation. If Solomon did not, others have; for there\nis a story of a king that allowed his love of a certain queen to take so\ngreat a hold upon him that he asked her to come up the steps of his\nthrone to strike him on the face, to take his crown from his head and\nset it upon her own. This was in his old age, and it is in old age that\nmen fall under the unreasonable sway of women--he was once a wise man,\nso we should refrain from blame, and pity our brethren who have fallen\nheadlong into the sway of these Chaldean and Arabian women. I might say\nmuch more on this subject, but words are useless, so deeply is the\npassion for women ingrained in the human heart. Proceed, therefore,\nBrother: we would hear the trouble that women have brought on thee,\nBrother Eleakim. At once all eyes were turned towards the little fellow\nwhose wandering odours put into everybody's mind thoughts of the great\nprice he must have paid in bracelets and fine linen, but Eleakim told a\ndifferent story--that he was sought for himself alone, too much so, for\nthe Arabian woman that fell to his lot was not content with the chaste\nand reasonable intercourse suitable for the begetting of children, the\nreason for which they had met, but would practise with him heathen\nrites, and of a kind so terrible that one night he fled to his president\nto ask for counsel. But the president, who was absorbed in his own\npleasures, drove him from his door, saying that every man must settle\nsuch questions with his wife. Hazael threw up his hands. Say no more,\nBrother Eleakim, thou didst well to leave that cenoby. We welcome thee,\nand having heard thee in brief we would now hear Brother Shaphan. At\nonce all eyes were turned towards the short, thick, silent man, who had\ntill now ventured into no words; and as they looked upon him their\nthoughts dwelt on the strange choice the curator had made when he chose\nBrother Shaphan for a husband; for though they were without knowledge of\nwomen, their sense told them that Brother Shaphan would not be pleasing\nto a woman. But Eleakim's story had prepared them for every strange\ntaste, and they waited eagerly for Shaphan. But Shaphan had not spoken\nmany words when tears began to roll down his cheeks, and the brethren of\nthe Brook Kerith bethought themselves that it might be a kindly act to\navert their eyes from him till he recovered his composure; but as his\ngrief continued they sought to comfort him, telling him that his\ntroubles were now ended. He would not, however, lift his face from his\nhands at their entreaty, and his companions said that the intervals\nbetween his tears since he was married were never long. At these words\nShaphan lifted his face from his hands and dashed some tears from his\neyelids. He will tell us now, the brethren said to themselves, but he\nonly uttered a few incoherent words, and his face sank back into his\nhands.\n\nAnd it was then that Jesus appeared at the end of the domed gallery.\nHazael signed to one of the brethren to bring a chair to him, and when\nJesus was seated Hazael told him who the strangers were in these words:\ngreat trouble has fallen upon our order, he said, the wives the brethren\nhave taken unto themselves against my counsel have not obeyed their\nhusbands. Wilt tell our Brother Jesus the trouble that has befallen\nthose that stayed by the lake, Shallum? I will, Shallum replied, for it\nwill please him to hear my story and it will be a satisfaction to me to\ntell the quarrels that set my wife and me apart till at last I was\nforced to send her back to her own people. My story will be profitable\nto you, though you are without wives, for to err is human. The brethren\nwere at once all ear for the new story, but Shallum was so prolix in his\ntelling of his misfortunes that the brethren begged him to tell them\nagain of the ranging of the gods and goddesses on either side of the\npresident's marriage-bed. He paid no heed to them, however, but\nproceeded with his own story, and so slow was his procedure that Hazael\nhad to interrupt him again. Shallum, he said, it is clear to me that our\nshepherd has come with some important tidings to me, and it will be\nkind of thee to forgo the rest of thy story for the present at least,\ntill I have conferred with our shepherd. I should have been loath, Jesus\ninterposed, to interrupt a discourse which seems to be pleasing to you\nall and which would be to me too if I had knowledge of the matters which\nconcern you, but the differences of men with their wives and wives with\ntheir husbands are unknown to me, my life having been spent on the hills\nwith rams and ewes. As he said these words a smile came into his eyes.\nThe first smile I have seen on his face for many years, Hazael said to\nhimself, and Jesus continued: I have left my flock in charge of my\nserving boy, for I have come to tell the president that he must not be\ndisappointed if many sheep are lost on the hills this year; robbers\nhaving hidden themselves again in the caves and fortified themselves\namong cliffs so difficult that to capture them soldiers must be let down\nin chests and baskets--a perilous undertaking this is, for the robbers\nare armed and determined upon revolt against Herod, who they say is not\na Jew, and holds his power in Judea from the Romans. They are robbers\ninasmuch as they steal my sheep, but they are men who value their\ncountry higher than their lives. This I know, for I have conferred with\nthem: and Jesus told the Essenes a story of an old man who lived in a\ncave with his family of seven, all of whom besought him to allow them to\nsurrender to the Romans. Cowards, he said, under his breath, and made\npact with them that they should come out of the cave one by one, which\nthey did, and as they came he slew them and threw their bodies into the\nprecipice, sons and daughters, and then he slew his wife, and after\nreproaching Herod with the meanness of his family, although he was then\na king, he threw himself from the cliff's edge.\n\nIt is a great story that thou tellest, Jesus, Manahem said, and it is\nwell to hear that there are great souls still amongst us, as in the days\nof the Maccabees. However this may be, Saddoc interposed, these men in\ntheir strife against the Romans must look to our flocks for food. Three\nsheep were taken from me last night, Jesus answered, and the rest will\ngo one by one, two by two, three by three, unless the revolt be quelled.\nAnd if the revolt be not quelled, Saddoc continued, the robbers will\nneed all we have gotten, which is little; they may even need our cave\nhere, and unless we join them they will cast us over the precipices. It\nwas to ask: are we to take up arms against these robbers that I came\nhither, Jesus said. You will confer amongst yourselves, brethren, Hazael\nsaid, and will forgive me if I withdraw: Jesus would like to speak with\nme privately.\n\nThe Essenes bowed, and Hazael walked up the domed gallery with Jesus,\nand as soon as they disappeared at the other end Shallum began: your\nshepherd tells you the truth; the hills are once more infested with the\nremains of Theudas' army. But who may Theudas be? one of the brethren\nasked. So you have not heard, Shallum cried, of Theudas, and you living\nhere within a few miles of the track he followed with his army down to\nJordan. Little news reaches us here, Saddoc said, and he asked Shallum\nto tell of Theudas, and Shallum related how Theudas had gathered a great\nfollowing together in Jerusalem and provoked a great uprising of the\npeople whom he called to follow him through the gates of the city, which\nthey did, and over the hills as far as Jordan. The current of the river,\nhe said, will stop, and the water rise up in a great wall as soon as I\nimpose my hands. We have no knowledge if the waters would have obeyed\nhis bidding, for before the waters had time to divide a Roman soldier\nstruck off the prophet's head and carried it to Jerusalem on a spear,\nwhere the sight of it was well received by the priests, for Theudas\npreached against the Temple, against the law, and the traditions as John\nand his disciples had done beforetimes. A great number, he continued,\nwere slain by the Roman soldiers, and the rest dispersed, having hidden\nthemselves in the caves, and become robbers and rebels. Nor was Theudas\nthe last, he began again, there was another, an Egyptian, a prophet or a\nsorcerer of great repute, at whose bidding the people assembled when he\nannounced that the walls of the city would fall as soon as he lifted up\nhis hands. They must follow him through the breach into the desert to\nmeet the day of judgment by the Dead Sea. And what befell this last\nprophet? Saddoc asked. He was pursued by the Roman soldiers, Eleakim\ncried, starting out of a sudden reverie. And was he taken prisoner?\nManahem asked. No, for he threw a rope into the air and climbed out of\nsight, Eleakim answered. He must have been a great prophet or an angel\nmore like, for a prophet could not climb up a rope thrown into the air,\nCaleb said. No, a prophet could not do that. But it is easier, Shaphan\nsnorted, to climb up a rope thrown into the air than to return to a\nwife, if the flesh be always unwilling. At the words all eyes were\nturned to Shaphan, who seemed to have recovered his composure. It is a\nwoeful thing to be wedded, he cried. But why didst thou accept a wife?\nManahem asked. Why were ye not guided by our counsels? We hoped, Shaphan\nsaid, to bring saints into the world and we know not yet that robbers\nmay not be the fruit of our wives' wombs. But if the flesh was always\nunwilling, Manahem answered, thou hast naught to fear. It would be\nbetter, Shallum interrupted, to turn us adrift on the hills than that we\nshould return to the lake where all is disorder now. Ye are not many\nhere, Eleakim said, to defend yourselves against robbers, and we have\nhands that can draw swords. Our president alone can say if ye may\nremain, Manahem said; he is in the gallery now and coming towards us.\nOur former brethren, Hazael, have renounced their wives, Manahem began,\nand would return to us and help to defend our cave. You come submissive\nto our wisdom? Hazael asked. The three strangers replied that they did\nso, and Hazael stood, his eyes fixed on the three strangers. We will\ndefend you against robbers if these would seek to dispossess you of your\ncave, Eleakim cried. We have but two cells vacant, Hazael said. It\nmatters not to us where we sleep if we sleep alone; and the president\nsmiling at Shaphan's earnestness said: but three more mouths to feed\nwill be a strain upon our stores of grain. Even though there be three\nmore mouths to feed, Shallum answered, there will be six more hands to\nbuild a wall against the robbers. To build a wall against robbers?\nHazael said. It is a long while we have been dreaming of that wall; and\nnow it seems the time has come to hold a council. We have been speaking\nof a wall to protect us against robbers ever since we came here, Manahem\ncried, and Saddoc answered: we have delayed too long, we must build: the\nyounger brethren will reap the benefit of our toil.\n\nWe all seem to be in favour of the wall, Hazael said. Are there no\ndissentients? None. For the next year or more we shall be builders\nrather than interpreters of the Scriptures. Mathias will come to the\nwall to discourse to us, Caleb interjected, and Saddoc answered him:\nwhatsoever may befall us, we are certain of one thing, we shall always\nbe listening to Mathias. But Mathias is a man of great learning, Caleb\nreplied. Of Greek learning may be, Saddoc answered. But even that is not\nsure, some years ago---- But if Greek wisdom be of no value why is it\ntaught here? Caleb interrupted, and the old Essene answered: that Greek\nwisdom was not taught in the Brook Kerith, but Greek reasoning was\napplied to the interpretation of Scripture. But there will be no\noccasion for Mathias' teaching for some years. Years, sayest thou,\nSaddoc? Amos interjected. I spoke plainly, did I not? Saddoc answered.\nIf it will take us years to build the wall, Amos said, we may as well\nsave ourselves the trouble of becoming builders, for the robbers will be\nupon us before it is high enough to keep them out; we shall lose our\nlives before a half-finished wall, and methinks I might as well have\nbeen left to my flock on the hills. Thou speakest truly, Saddoc replied,\nfor I doubt if thou wilt prove a better builder than thou wast a\nshepherd. If my sheep were poor, thy interpretations of the Scriptures\nare poorer still, Amos said, and the twain fell to quarrelling apart,\nwhile the brethren took counsel together. If this mischief did not\nbefall them, and a wall twenty feet high and many feet in thickness were\nraised, would they be able to store enough food in the cave to bear a\nthree-months' siege? And would they be able to continue the cultivation\nof their figs along the terrace if robbers were at the gates? But a\nsiege, Manahem answered these disputants, cannot well be, for the\nshepherds on the hills would carry the news of the siege to Jericho,\nwhence troops would be sent to our help, and at their approach the\nrobbers would flee into the hills. What we have to fear is not a siege,\nbut a sudden assault; and from a successful assault a wall will save us.\nThat is true, Saddoc said. And to defend the wall we must possess\nourselves of weapons, Caleb, Benjamin and Eleakim cried; and Shallum\ntold them that a certain hard wood, of which there was an abundance in\nJericho, could be shaped into cutlasses whereby a man's head might be\nstruck off at a blow.\n\nAt these words the brethren took heart, and Hazael selected Shallum for\nmessenger to go to Jericho for the wood, and a few days afterwards the\nEssenes were busy carving cutlasses for their defence, and designing a\ngreat wall with towers, whilst others were among the cliffs hurling down\ngreat masses of stone out of which a wall would soon begin to rise.\n\nAnd every day, an hour after sunrise, the Essenes were quarrying stone\nand building their wall, and though they had designed it on a great\nscale, it rose so fast that in two months they were bragging that it\nwould protect them against the great robber, Saulous, a pillager of many\ncaravans, of whom Jesus had much to say when he came down from the\nhills. The wall will save you, Jesus said, from him. But who will save\nmy flock from Saulous, who is besieged in a cave, and comes forth at\nnight to seek for food for himself and his followers? But if the cave is\nbesieged? Caleb said, laying down his trowel. The cave has two\nentrances, Jesus answered, and he told them that his belief now was that\nwhat remained of the flock should be sent to Jerusalem for sale. The\nrams, of course, should be kept, and a few of the best ewes for a flock\nto be raised in happier times. These were his words one sad evening, and\nthey were so convincing that the builders laid down their trowels and\nrepaired to the vaulted gallery to sit in council. But while they sat\nthinking how they might send representatives to the procurator the\nrobbers were preparing their own doom by seizing a caravan of more than\nfifty camels laden with wheat for Jerusalem. A very welcome booty no\ndoubt it was considered by the robbers, but booty--was not their only\nobject? They hoped, as the procurator knew well, to bring about an\nuprising against Roman rule by means of bread riots, and this last raid\nprovided him with a reason for a grand punitive expedition. Many troops\nof soldiers were sent out with orders to bring all that could be taken\nalive into Jerusalem for crucifixion, no mean punishment when carried\nout as the procurator meditated it. He saw it in his thoughts reaching\nfrom Jerusalem to Jericho, and a death penalty for all. Pilate's methods\nof smoking the robbers out of their caves has not proved a sufficient\ndeterrent, he said to himself, and a smile came into his face and he\nrubbed his hands when the news of the first captures was brought to him,\nand every day small batches were announced. We shall wait, he said,\nuntil we have fifty-three, the exact number of camels that were stolen,\nand then the populace shall come out with me to view them. The spectacle\nwill perhaps quench the desire of robbery in everybody who is disposed\nto look upon it as an easy way of gaining a livelihood. And the renown\nof this crucifixion will spread through Judea. For three days at least\nmalefactors will be seen dying at distances of half-a-mile, and lest\ntheir sufferings should inspire an attempt at rescue, a decree shall be\nplaced over every cross that any attempt at rescue will be punishable by\ncrucifixion, and to make certain that there shall be no tampering with\nRoman justice, the soldiers on guard shall be given extra crosses to be\nused if a comrade should cut down a robber or give him drugs to mitigate\nhis agony. And all this was done as had been commanded. The robbers were\nexposed at once on the road from Jerusalem, and it was on the first day\nof the great crucifixion that Jesus, coming round the shoulder of the\nhill with his flock, was brought to a sudden stop before a group of\nthree.\n\nThese, about six or seven hours, a Roman soldier said, in answer to\nJesus' question as to the length of time they had been on their crosses,\nnot more than six hours, the soldier repeated, and he turned to his\ncomrade for confirmation of his words. Put a lance into my side, a\nrobber cried out, and God will reward thee in heaven. Thou hast not\nceased to groan since the first hour. But put a lance into my side, the\nrobber cried again. I dare not, the soldier answered. Thou'lt hang\neasier to-morrow. But all night I shall suffer; put a lance into my\nside, for my heart is like a fire within me. And do the same for me,\ncried the robbers hanging on either side. All night long, cried the\nfirst robber, the pain and the ache and the torment will last; if not a\nlance, give me wine to drink, some strong, heady wine that will dull the\npain. Thy brethren bear the cross better than thou. Take courage and\nbear thy pain. I was not a robber because I wished it, my house was set\non fire as many another to obtain recruits. Yon shepherd is no better\nthan I. Why am I on the cross and not he? His turn may come, who knows,\nthough he stands so happy among his sheep. To-night he will sleep in a\ncool cavern, but I shall linger in pain. Give me drink and I will tell\nthee where the money we have robbed is hidden. The money may not be in\nthe cave, and if it be we might not be able to find it, the soldier\nanswered; and the crucified cried down to him that he could make plain\nthe spot. The soldier was not, however, to be bribed, and they told the\ncrucified that the procurator was coming out to visit the crosses on the\nmorrow, and would be disappointed if he found dead men upon them instead\nof dying men. Shepherd, the soldiers will not help us, canst thou not\nhelp us? Happy shepherd, that will sleep to-night amongst thy sheep.\nCome by night and give us poison when these soldiers are asleep. We\nwill reward thee. Lift not thy hand against Roman justice, the soldier\nsaid to Jesus, lest thou takest his place on the cross. Such are our\norders.\n\nJesus hurried away through the hills, pursued by memories of the\ncrucified robbers, and he went on and on, with the intent of escaping\nfrom their cries and faces, till, unable to walk farther, he stopped,\nand, looking round, saw the tired sheep, their eyes mutely asking him\nwhy he had come so far, passing by so much good herbage without halting.\nPoor sheep, he said, I had forgotten you, but there is yet an hour of\nlight before folding-time. Go, seek the herbage among the rocks. My\ndogs, too, are tired, he added, and want water, and when he had given\nthem some to drink he sat down, hoping that the crucified might not\nreturn to his eyes and ears. But he need not have hoped: he was too\ntired to think of what he had seen and heard, and sat in peace watching\nthe sunset till, as in a vision, a man in a garden, in an agony of\ndoubt, appeared to him. He was betrayed by a disciple and taken before\nthe priests and afterwards before Pilate, who ordered him to be scourged\nand crucified, and beneath his cross the multitude passed, wagging their\nheads, inviting him to descend if he could detach himself from the\nnails. A veil fell and when it was lifted Joseph was bending over him,\nand soon after was carrying him to his house. The people of that time\nrose up before him: Esora, Matred, and the camel-driver, the scent of\nwhose sheepskin had led him back to his sheep, and he had given himself\nto their service with profit to himself, for it had kept his thoughts\nfrom straying backwards or forwards, fixing them in the present. He had\nlived in the ever-fleeting present for many years--how many? The\nquestion awoke him from his reverie, and he sat wondering how it was he\ncould think so quietly of things that he had put out of his mind\ninstinctively, till he seemed to himself to be a man detached as much\nfrom hope as from regret. It was through such strict rule that I managed\nto live through the years behind me, he said; I felt that I must never\nlook back, but in a moment of great physical fatigue the past returned,\nand it lies before me now, the sting taken out of it, like the evening\nsky in tranquil waters. Even the memory that I once believed myself to\nbe the Messiah promised to the Jews ceases to hurt; what we deem\nmistakes are part and parcel of some great design. Nothing befalls but\nby the will of God. My mistakes! why do I speak of them as mistakes, for\nlike all else they were from the beginning of time, and still are and\nwill be till the end of time, in the mind of God. His thoughts continued\nto unroll, it was not long before he felt himself thinking that the\nworld was right to defend itself against those that would repudiate it.\nFor the world, he said to himself, cannot be else than the world, a\ntruth that was hidden from me in those early days. The world does not\nbelong to us, but to God. It was he that made it, and it is for him to\nunmake it when he chooses and to remake us if he chooses. Meanwhile we\nshould do well to accept his decrees and to talk no more of destroying\nthe Temple and building it up again in three days. Nor should we trouble\nourselves to reprove the keepers of the Temple for having made\nthemselves a God according to their own image and likeness, with\npassions like a man and angers like a man, thereby falling into\nidolatry, for what else is our God but an Assyrian king who sits on a\nthrone and metes out punishments and rewards? It may be that the priests\nwill some day come into the knowledge that all things are equal in God's\nsight, and that he is not to be won by sacrifices, observances or\nprayers, that he has no need of these things, not even of our love, or\nit may be that they will remain priests. But though God desires neither\nsacrifices, observances, nor even love, it cannot be that we are wholly\ndivorced from God. It may be that we are united to him by the daily\ntasks which he has set us to perform.\n\nJesus was moved to put his pipes to his lips, and the sheep returned to\nhim and followed him into the cavern in which they were to sleep that\nnight.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXIX.\n\n\nIt is a great joy to return to thought after a long absence from it, and\nJesus was not afraid, though once his conscience asked him if he were\njustified in yielding himself unreservedly to reason. A man's mind, he\nanswered, like all else, is part of the Godhead; and at that moment he\nheard God speaking to him out of the breeze. My beloved son, he said, we\nshall never be separated from each other again. And Jesus replied: not\nagain, Father, for thou hast returned to me the God that I once knew in\nNazareth and in the hills above Jericho, and lost sight of as soon as I\nbegan to read the Book of Daniel. How many, he asked himself, have been\nled by reading that book into the belief that they were the precursors\nof the Messiah? We know of Theudas and the Egyptian, and there were many\nothers whose names have not reached us. But I alone believed myself to\nbe the Messiah. He was astonished he could remember so great a sin and\nnot fear God. But I cannot fear God, for I love God, he said; my God\nneither forgives nor punishes, and if we repent it should be for our own\nsakes and not to please God. Moreover, it must be well not to waste too\nmuch time in repentance, for it is surely better to understand than to\nrepent. We learn through our sins. If it had not been for mine, I\nshould not have learnt that quires and scrolls lead men from God, and\nthat to see and hear God we have only to open our eyes and ears. God is\nalways about us. We hear him in the breeze, and we find him in the\nflower. He is in these things as much as he is in man, and all things\nare equal in his sight; Solomon is no greater than Joshbekashar.\n\nHe had not remembered the old shepherd, who had taught him all he knew\nabout sheep, for many a day. It is nigh on five and forty years, he said\nto himself, since he called me to hold the ewes while he made them clean\nfor the winter. It was in yon cave the flock was folded when I laid\nhands on the ewes for the first time and dragged them forward for him to\nclip the wool from the rumps. He could see in his memory each different\newe trotting away, looking as if she were thankful for the shepherd's\nkind office towards her. There was something extraordinarily restful in\nhis memory of old Joshbekashar, and to prolong it Jesus fell to\nrecalling the old man's words; and every little disjointed sentence\nraised up the old man before him. It was but three times that I held the\newes for him, so it cannot be much more than forty years since that\nfirst clipping. Now I come to think on it, the clipping befell on a day\nlike to-day. We'll clip our ewes to-day, and it was with a sense of\nmemorial service in his mind that he called to young Jacob to come to\nhis aid, saying: Joshbekashar's flock was always folded in yon cave for\nthis clipping, the only change is that I am the clipper and thou'rt\nholding them for me. There are forty-five to be clipped, and just the\nsame as before each ewe will trot away into the field looking as if she\nwere thankful at having been made clean for the winter. On these words\nboth fell to their work, and the cunning hand spent no more than a\nminute over each. Stooping over ewes makes one's back ache, he said,\nrising from the last one, using the very same words he heard forty years\nbefore from Joshbekashar: time brings back the past! he said. We repeat\nthe words of those that have gone before while doing their work; and it\nis likely we are doing God's work as well by making the ewes clean for\nthe winter as by cutting their throats in the Temple. All the same\nstooping over ewes makes one's back ache, he repeated, for the words\nevoked the old shepherd, and he waited for Jacob to answer in the words\nspoken by him forty years ago to Joshbekashar. Himself had forgotten his\nwords, but he thought he would recognise them if Jacob were inspired to\nspeak them. But Jacob kept silence for shame's sake, for his hope was\nthat the flock would be given to his charge as soon as old age obliged\nJesus to join his brethren in the cenoby.\n\nThou'lt be sorry for me, lad, I know that well, but thou hast begun to\nlook forward to the time when thou'lt walk the hills at the head of the\nflock like another; it is but proper that thou shouldst, and it is but\nnatural that the time should seem long to thee; but take on a little\npatience, this much I can vouch for, every bone in me was aching when I\nleft the cavern this morning, and my sight is no longer what it was.\nMaster Jesus, I'd as lief wait; the hills will be naught without thee.\nDost hear me, Master? Jesus smiled and dropped back into his meditations\nand from that day onward very little sufficed to remind him that he\nwould end his days in the cenoby reading the Scriptures and interpreting\nthem. In the cenoby, he said, men do not think, they only read, but in\nthe fields a shepherd need never lose sight of the thought that leads\nhim. A good shepherd can think while watching his sheep, and as the\nflock was feeding in good order, he took up the thread of a thought to\nwhich he had become attached since his discovery that signs and sounds\nof God's presence are never lacking on earth. As God's constant\ncompanion and confidant he had come to comprehend that the world of\nnature was a manifestation of the God he knew in himself. I know myself,\nhe said one day, but I do not know the God which is above, for he seems\nto be infinite; nor do I know nature, which is beyond me, for that, too,\nseems to run into infinite, but infinite that is not that of God. A few\nmoments later it seemed to him he might look upon himself as an islet\nbetween two infinities. But to which was he nearer in eternity? Ah, if\nhe knew that! And it was then that a conviction fell upon him that if he\nremained on the hills he would be able to understand many things that\nwere obscure to him to-day. It will take about two years, he said, and\nthen many things that are dark will become clear. Two infinites, God and\nnature. At that moment a ewe wandering near some scrub caught his\nattention. A wolf, he said, may be lurking there. I must bring her back;\nand he put a stone into his sling. A wolf is lurking there, he\ncontinued, else Gorbotha would not stand growling. Gorbotha, a\ngolden-haired dog, like a wolf in build, stood snuffing the breeze,\nwhilst Thema, his sister, sought her master's hand. A moment after the\nbreeze veered, bringing the scent to her, and the two dogs dashed\nforward into the scrub without finding either wolf or jackal lying in\nwait. All the same, he said, a wolf or a jackal must have been lying\nthere, and not long ago, or else the dogs would not have growled and\nrushed to the onset as they did.\n\nThey returned perplexed and anxious to their master, who resumed his\nmeditation, saying to himself that if aching bones obliged him to return\nto the cenoby he would have to give up thinking. For one only thinks\nwell in solitude and when one thinks for oneself alone; but in the\ncenoby the brethren think together. All the same my life on the hills is\nnot over yet, and an hour later he put his pipes to his lips and led his\nflock to different hills, for, guided by some subtle sense, he seemed to\ndivine the springing up of new grass; and the shepherds, knowing of this\ninstinct for pasturage, were wont to follow him, and he was often at\npains to elude them, for on no hillside is there grass enough for many\nflocks.\n\nMy poor sheep, he said, as he watched them scatter over a grassy\nhillside. Ye're happy this springtime for ye do not know that your\nshepherd is about to be taken from you. But he has suffered too much in\nthe winter we've come out of to remain on the hills many more years.\nBefore leaving you he must discover a shepherd that will care for you as\nwell as I have done. Amos is dead; there is no one in the cenoby that\nunderstands sheep. Would ye had speech to counsel me. But tell me, what\nwould ye say if I were to leave you in Jacob's charge? He stood waiting,\nas if he expected the sheep to answer, and it was then it began to seem\nto Jesus he might as well entrust his flock to Jacob as to another.\n\nHe had sent him out that morning with twenty lambs that were yet too\nyoung to run with the flock, and he now stood waiting for him, thinking\nthat if he lost none between this day and the end of the summer, the\nflock might be handed over to him. Every young man's past is tarnished,\nhe continued, for he could not forget that Jacob had begun by losing his\nmaster's dogs, two had been killed by panthers. Nor was this the only\nmisfortune that had befallen him. Having heard that rain had fallen in\nthe west, he set out for C\u00e6sarea to redeem his credit, he hoped, but at\nthe end of the fourth day he could find no cavern in which to fold his\nsheep, and he lay down in the open, surrounded by his flock,\nunsuspicious that a pack of wolves had been trailing him from cavern to\ncavern since he left the Jordan valley--the animals divining that their\nchance would come at last. It would have been better, Jacob said, if the\nwolves had fallen upon him, for after this disaster no one would employ\nhim, and he had wandered an outcast, living on the charity of shepherds,\nsharing a little of their bread. But such charity could not last long\nand he would have had to sit with the beggars by the wayside above\nJericho if Jesus had not given his lambs into his charge, by this act\nrestoring to Jacob some of his lost faith in himself. He had gone away\nsaying to himself: Jesus, who knows more than all the other shepherds\nput together, holds me to be no fool, and one day I'll be trusted again\nwith a flock. I'm young and can wait, and, who knows, Jesus may tell me\nhis cure for the scab, and by serving him I may get a puppy when Thema\nhas a litter. In such wise Jacob looked to Jesus and Thema for future\nfortune, and as he came over the ridge and caught sight of Jesus waiting\nfor him, he said: call up thy dogs, Master, lest they should fall upon\nmine and upon me. Gorbotha has already risen to his feet and Thema is\ngrowling.\n\nJesus laid his staff across their backs. What, will ye attack Jacob, he\ncried, and what be your quarrel with his dogs? Poor Syrian dogs, Jacob\nanswered, that would be quickly killed by thine. If I had had dogs like\nGorbotha and Thema the wolves would not---- But, Jacob, thou wouldst\nhave lost thy dogs as well as thy sheep. What stand could any dogs make\nagainst a pack of wolves, and a shepherd without dogs is like a bird\nwithout wings, as Brother Amos used to say. Yes, that is just it, Jacob\nreplied, struck by the aptness of the comparison. Thou art known, Jesus,\nto be the most foreseeing shepherd on the hills; but the flock would not\nhave increased without thy dogs. Abdiel is great in his knowledge of\ndogs, and he told me that he had never known any like thine, Master.\nCome now, Thema, Jesus cried. Come, lie down here; lay thy muzzle\nagainst my knee. And growl not at Jacob or I'll send thee away. So\nAbdiel spoke of my dogs! They are well enough, one can work with them.\nBut I've had better dogs. Whereupon Jesus told a story how one night he\nhad lain under a fair sky to sleep and had slept so soundly that the\nrain had not wakened him, but Boreth--that was the dog's\nname--distressed at the sight of me lying in the rain, began to lick my\nface, and when I had wrung out my cloak he led me to a dry cave unknown\nto me, though I thought I knew every one in these hills. He must have\ngone in search of one as soon as it began to rain, and when he found a\ndry one he came back to awaken me. More faithful dogs, he said, there\nnever were than these at my feet, but I've known stronger and fiercer.\nBut I'd tell thee another story of Boreth, and he related how one night\nin December as he watched, having for his protection only Boreth (his\nother dogs, Anos and Torbitt, being at home, one with a lame paw, the\nother with puppies), he had fallen asleep, though he knew robbers were\nabout in the hills, especially in the winter months, he said; but I knew\nI could count on Boreth to awake me if one came to steal the sheep. Now\nwhat I'm about to say, Jacob, happened at the time of the great rain of\nDecember, when the nights are dark about us. I was sleeping in a\nsheltered place in the coign of a cliff, the flock was folded and Boreth\nwas away upon his rounds, and it was then that two robbers stole into\nthe cave. One was about to plunge his dagger into me, but I had time to\ncatch his wrist and to whistle; and in a few seconds Boreth leapt upon\nthe robber that was seeking to stab me. He bit his neck and shoulder;\nand then, leaving that robber disabled, he attacked the robber's mate,\nand it was wonderful how he crept round and round in the darkness,\nbiting him all the time, and then pursuing the two he worried them up\nthe valley until his heart misgave him and he thought it wouldn't be\nsafe to leave me alone any longer. But Gorbotha would defend thee\nagainst a robber, Jacob said, and he called to the dog, but Gorbotha\nonly growled at him. Have patience with them, Jesus rejoined; I'll not\nfeed them for three days, and after feeding them thou'lt take them to\nthe hills, and when they have coursed and killed a jackal for thee it\nmay be that they'll accept thee for master. But these Thracians rarely\nlove twice. Come, Jacob, and we'll look into thy flock of lambs and take\ncounsel together. They seem to be doing fairly well with thee--a bit\ntired, I dare say thou hast come a long way with them. We walked too\nfast, Jacob answered, saying he had had to go farther than he thought\nfor in search of grass, and had found some that was worth the distance\nthey had journeyed, for the lambs had fallen to nibbling at once. Fell\nto nibbling at once, did they? Jesus repeated When they're folded with\nthe ewes, thou'lt put into their jaws a stick to keep them from sucking.\nAnd without waiting for Jacob to answer he asked which of all these\nlambs he would choose to keep for breeding from. Jacob pointed out first\none and then another; but Jesus shook his head and showed him a lamb\nwhich Jacob had not cast his eyes over and said: one may not say for\ncertain, but I shall be surprised if he doesn't come into a fine,\nbroad-shouldered ram, strong across the loins and straight on his legs,\nthe sort to get lambs that do well on these hills. And thou'lt be well\nadvised to leave him on his dam another hundred days; shear him, for it\nwill give him strength to take some wool from him, but do not take it\nfrom his back, for he will want the wool there to protect him from the\nsun. And all the first year he will skip about with the ewes and jump\nupon them, but it will be only play, for his time has not yet come; in\ntwo more years he'll be at his height, serving ten ewes a day; but keep\nhim not over-long; thou must always have some new rams preparing, else\nthy flock will decline. The ram thou seest on the right is old, and must\nsoon be replaced. But the white ram yonder is still full of service: a\nbetter I've never known. The white ram is stronger than the black,\nthough the black ewe will turn from him and seek a ram of her own\ncolour. I've known a white ram so ardent for a black ewe that he fought\nthe black ram till their skulls cracked. Master, it is well to listen to\nthee, Jacob interrupted, for none knows sheep like thee, but as none\nwill ever give me charge of a flock again, thy teaching is wasted upon\nme. Look to the ewes' teeth, Jacob, and to their udders; see that the\nudders are sound. Master, never before didst thou mock at me, who am for\nmy misfortunes the mocking-stock of all these fields. In what have I\ndone wrong? That my lambs are a bit tired is all thou hast to blame me\nfor to-day. Jacob, I'm not mocking at thee, but looking forward a\nlittle, for time is on thy side and will soon put thee in charge of a\nflock again. Time is on my side, Jacob repeated. If I understand thee\nrightly, Master, thy meaning is, that the hills are beginning to weary\nthee. Look into my beard, Jacob, and see how much grey hair is in it,\nand my gait is slower than it used to be, a stiffness has come upon me\nthat will not wear out, and my eyes are not as keen as they were, and\nwhen I see in thee a wise shepherd, between the spring and autumn, it\nmay be that Hazael, our president, at my advice, will entrust my flock\nto thy charge.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXX.\n\n\nSo thou thinkest, Eliab, that the autumn rains will make an end of him.\nAnd maybe of thee too, Bozrah, Eliab returned. A hard life ours is, even\nfor the young ones. Hard bread by day and at night a bed of stones, a\nhard life from the beginning one that doesn't grow softer, and to end in\na lion's maw at fifty is the best we can hope for. For us, perhaps,\nBozrah answered; but Jesus will go up to the cenoby among the rocks and\ndie amongst the brethren reading the Scriptures. If the autumn rains\ndon't make an end of him, Eliab interjected testily, as if he did not\nlike his forecast of Jesus' death to be called into question. As I was\nsaying, a shepherd's life is a hard one, and when the autumn rains make\nan end of him, the brethren will be on the look-out for another\nshepherd, and there's not one amongst them that would bring half the\nflock entrusted to him into the fold at the end of the year. The best of\nus lose sheep: what with----\n\nThe flock will go to Jacob, the lad he's been training to follow him\never since his friend was killed, Havilah remarked timidly. Eliab and\nBozrah raised their eyes, and looked at Havilah in surprise, for a\nsensible remark from Havilah was an event, and to their wonder they\nfound themselves in agreement with Havilah. The flock would go to Jacob\nwithout doubt. Of course, Havilah cried, excited by the success of his\nlast remark, he be more than fifty. Thou mightst put five years more to\nthe fifty and not be far wrong, Bozrah interposed. Havilah was minded to\nspeak again, but his elders' looks made him feel that they had heard him\nsufficiently. Now, Bozrah, how many years dost thou make it since Joseph\nof Arimathea was killed? How many years? Bozrah repeated. I can't tell\nthee how many years, but many years.... Stay, I can mark the date down\nfor thee. It was about ten years before Theudas (wasn't that his name?)\nled the multitude over these hills. A great riot that was surely--fires\nlighted at the side of the woods for the roasting of our lambs, and\nmany's the fine wood that was turned to blackened stems and sad ashes in\nthose days. It comes back to me now, Eliab interjected. Theudas was the\nname. I'd forgotten it for the moment. He led the multitude to Jordan,\nand while he was bidding the waters divide to let him across the Romans\nhad his head off. It was nigh ten years before that rioting Gaddi's\npartner was killed in Jerusalem. I believe thee to be right, Bozrah\nreplied, and they talked of the different magicians and messiahs that\nwere still plaguing the country, stirring them up against the Romans.\nBut, cried Bozrah suddenly, the story comes back to me. Not getting any\nnews of his friend, Jesus left his flock with Jacob, and came down to\nthe pass between the hills where the road descends to the lake to\ninquire from the beggars if they had seen Gaddi's partner on his way to\nJerusalem or Jericho, and seeing the lepers and beggars gathering about\nJesus, I came down to hear what was being said, but before I got as far\nI saw Jesus turn away and walk into the hills. It was from the beggars\nand lepers that I heard that Joseph had been killed in the streets of\nJerusalem. Thou knowest how long beggars take to tell a story; Jesus\nwas far away before they got to the end of it, simple though it was. I'd\nhave gone after him if they'd been quicker. More of the story I don't\nknow. It was just as thou sayest, mate, Eliab answered, and thou'lt bear\nme out that it was some months after, maybe six or seven, that Jesus was\nseen again leading the flock. I remember the day I saw him, for wasn't I\nnear to rubbing my eyes lest they might be deceiving me--I remember,\nEliab continued, it comes back to me as it does to thee, for within two\nyears he had gathered another handsome flock about him. A fine shepherd,\nHavilah said. None better to be found on the hills. Thou speakest well,\nEliab answered him, and for thee to speak well twice in the same day is\nwell-nigh a miracle. Belike thou'lt awake one morning to find thyself\nthe Messiah Israel is waiting for, so great is thy advancement of late\nin good sense. Havilah turned aside, and Eliab, divining his wounded\nspirit, sought to make amends by offering him some bread and garlic, but\nHavilah went away, a melancholy, heavy-shouldered young man, one that,\nEliab said, must feel life cruelly, knowing himself as he must have done\nfrom the beginning to be what is known as a good-for-nothing. And it was\nsoon after Havilah's departure that Jesus returned to the shepherds and,\nstopping in front of Eliab and Bozrah, he said: I've come back, mates,\nto give you my thanks for many a year of good-fellowship. So the time\nhas come for us to lose thee, mate, Eliab answered. We are sorry for it,\nthough it isn't altogether unlocked for. We were saying not many moments\nago, Bozrah interjected, that the life on the hills is no life for a man\nwhen he has gone fifty, and thou'lt not see fifty again: no, and not by\nthree years, Jesus answered. It was just about fifty years that the\nfeeling began to come over me that I couldn't fight another winter, and\nto think of Jacob, who is waiting for a flock, and he may as well have\nmine during my life as wait for my death to get it. Better so, said\nEliab, whose wont it was to strike his word in whenever the speaker\npaused. He did not always wait for the speaker to pause, and this trick\nbeing known to Bozrah, he said, and by all accounts thou hast made a\ntrue shepherd of him, passing over to him all thy knowledge. A lad of\ngood report, Jesus answered, who had fallen on a hard master, a thing\nthat has happened to all of us in our time, Bozrah interjected. He's not\nthe first that fell out of favour, for that his ewes hadn't given as\nmany lambs as they might have done. Nor was there anything of neglect in\nit, but such a bit of ill luck as might run into any man or any man\nmight run up against. He was told, said Eliab, who could not bear anyone\nto tell a story but himself, that though he were to bring the parts of\nthe sheep the wolf had left behind to his master he would have to seek\nanother master. Such severity frightens the shepherd, and the wolf\nsmells out the frightened shepherd, Jesus said, and he told his mates\nthat he had not found Jacob lacking in truthfulness nor in natural\ndiscernment, and he asked them to give all their protection to Jacob,\nwho will, he said, go forth in charge of our flock to-morrow.\n\nThe shepherds said again that they were sorry to lose Jesus, and that\nthe hills would not seem like the hills without him, and Jesus answered\nthat he, too, would be lonely among the brethren reading the Scriptures.\nWhen one is used to sheep one misses them sorely, Eliab said, there's\nalways something to learn from them; and he began to tell a story; but\nbefore he had come to the end of it Jesus' thoughts took leave of the\nstory he was listening to, and he turned away, leaving the shepherd with\nhis half-finished story, and walked absorbed in his thoughts, immersed\nin his own mind, till he had reached the crest of the next hill and was\nwithin some hundred yards of the brook. It was then that he remembered\nhe had left them abruptly in the middle of a half-finished relation, and\nhe stopped to consider if he should return to them and ask for the end\nof the story. But fearing they would think he was making a mocking-stock\nof them, he sighed, and was vexed that they had parted on a seeming lack\nof courtesy: on no seeming lack, on a very clear lack, he said to\nhimself; but it would be useless to return to them; they would not\nunderstand, and a man had always better return to his own thoughts.\nRepent, repent, he said, picking up the thread of his thoughts, but\nacknowledgment comes before repentance, and of what help will repentance\nbe, for repentance changes nothing, it brings nothing unless grief\nperadventure. I was in the hands of God then just as I am now, and\neverything within and without us is in his hands. The things that we\nlook upon as evil and the things that we look upon as good. Our sight is\nnot his sight, our hearing is not his hearing, we must despise nothing,\nfor all things come from him, and return to him. I used, he said, to\ndespise the air I breathed, and long for the airs of paradise, but what\ndid these longings bring me?--grief. God bade us live on earth and we\nbring unhappiness upon ourselves by desiring heaven. Jesus stopped, and\nlooking through the blue air of evening, he could see the shepherds\neating their bread and garlic on the hillside. Folding-time is near, he\nsaid to himself, but I shall never fold a flock again....\n\nHis thoughts began again, flowing like a wind, as mysteriously, arising\nhe knew not whence, nor how, his mind holding him as fast as if he were\nin chains, and he heard from within that he had passed through two\nstages--the first was in Jerusalem, when he preached against the priests\nand their sacrifices. God does not desire the blood of sheep, but our\nlove, and all ritual comes between us and God ... God is in the heart,\nhe had said, and he had spoken as truly as a man may speak of the\njourney that lies before him on the morning of the first day.\n\nIn the desert he had looked for God in the flowers that the sun called\nforth and in the clouds that the wind shepherded, and he had learnt to\nprize the earth and live content among his sheep, all things being\nthe gift of God and his holy will. He had not placed himself above the\nflowers and grasses of the earth, nor the sheep that fed upon them, nor\nabove the men that fed upon the sheep. He had striven against the memory\nof his sin, he had desired only one thing, to acknowledge his sin, and\nto repent. But it seemed to him that anger and shame and sorrow, and\ndesire of repentance had dropped out of his heart. It seemed to him as\nhe turned and pursued his way that some new thought was striving to\nspeak through him. Rites and observances, all that comes under the name\nof religion estranges us from God, he repeated. God is not here, nor\nthere, but everywhere: in the flower, and in the star, and in the earth\nunderfoot. He has often been at my elbow, God or this vast Providence\nthat upholds the work; but shall we gather the universal will into an\nimage and call it God?--for by doing this do we not drift back to the\nstarting-point of all our misery? We again become the dupes of illusion\nand desire; God and his heaven are our old enemies in disguise. He who\nyields himself to God goes forth to persuade others to love God, and\nvery soon his love of God impels him to violent words and cruel deeds.\nIt cannot be else, for God is but desire, and whosoever yields to desire\nfalls into sin. To be without sin we must be without God.\n\nJesus stood before the door of the cenoby, startled at the thoughts that\nhad been put into his mind, asking himself if any man had dared to ask\nhimself if God were not indeed the last uncleanliness of the mind.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXXI.\n\n\nIf thou wouldst not miss Mathias' discourse, Brother Jesus, thou must\nhasten thy steps. He is telling that the Scriptures are but allegories.\nSome of us are opposed to this view, believing that Adam and Eve\nare--Yea, Brother, and my thanks to thee for thy admonishment, Jesus\nsaid, for he did not wish to discredit Mathias' reputation for\ntheological argument; but no sooner was he out of sight of the\ngate-keeper than he began to examine the great rock that Joseph had\npredicted would one day come crashing down, and, being no wise in a\nhurry, fell to wondering how much of the mountain-side it would bring\nwith it when it fell. At present it projected over the pathway for\nseveral yards, making an excellent store-house, and, his thoughts\nsuspended between the discussion that was proceeding regarding Adam and\nEve--whether the original twain had ever lived or were but allegories\n(themselves and their garden)--he began to consider if the brethren had\nlaid in a sufficient stock of firewood, and how long it would take him\nto chop it into pieces handy for burning. He would be glad to relieve\nthe brethren from all such humble work, and for taking it upon himself\nhe would he able to plead an excuse for absenting himself from Mathias'\ndiscourses. Hazael would not refuse to assign to him the task of feeding\nthe doves and the cleaning out of their coops; he would find occupation\namong the vines and fig-trees--he was something of a gardener--and\nHazael would not refuse him permission to return to the hills to see\nthat all was well with the flocks. Jacob will need to be looked after;\nand there are the dogs; and if they cannot be brought to look upon Jacob\nas master their lives will be wasted, he said.\n\nI seem to read supper in their eyes, he said, and having tied them up\nsupperless he visited the bitch and her puppies. Brother Ozias hasn't\nforgotten to feed her. There is some food still in the platter. But they\nmust submit, he continued, his thoughts having returned to his dogs,\nTheusa and Tharsa, and then he stood listening, for he could hear\nMathias' voice. The door of the lecture-room is closed; if I step softly\nnone will know that I have returned from the hills, and I can sit\nunsuspected on the balcony till Mathias' allegories are ended, and\nwatching the evening descending on the cliff it may be that I shall be\nable to examine the thoughts that assailed me as I ascended the\nhillside; whether we pursue a corruptible or an incorruptible crown the\nend is the same, he said. It was not enough for me to love God, I must\nneeds ask others to worship him, at first with words of love, and when\nlove failed I threatened, I raved; and the sin I fell into others will\nfall into, for it s natural to man to wish to make his brother like\nhimself, thereby undoing the work of God. Myself am no paragon; I\ncondemned the priests whilst setting myself up as a priest, and spoke of\nGod and the will of God though in all truth I had very little more\nreason than they to speak of these things. God has not created us to\nknow him, or only partially through our consciousness of good and evil.\nGood and evil do not exist in God's eyes as in our eyes, for he is the\nauthor of all, but it may be that our sense of good and evil was given\nto us by him as a token of our divine nature. If this be true, why\nshould we puzzle and fret ourselves with distinctions like Mathias? It\nwere better to leave the mystery and attend to this life, casting out\ndesire to know what God is or what nature is, as well as desire for\nparticular things in this world which long ago I told men to\ndisregard.... A flight of doves distracted his attention, and a moment\nafter the door of the lecture-room opened and Saddoc and Manahem\nappeared, carrying somebody dead or who had fainted. As they came across\nthe domed gallery towards the embrasure Jesus heard Manahem say: he will\nreturn to himself as soon as we get him into the air. And they placed\nhim where Jesus had been sitting. A little water, Saddoc cried, and\nJesus ran to the well, and returning with a cup of water he stood by\nsprinkling the worn, grey face. The heat overcame me, he murmured, but I\nshall soon be well and then you will bear me back to hear--The sentence\ndid not finish, and Jesus said: thou'lt be better here with me, Hazael,\nthan listening to discourses that fatigue the mind. Mathias is very\ninsistent, Manahem muttered. He is indeed, Saddoc answered. And while\nJesus sat by Hazael, fearing that his life might go out at any moment,\nManahem reproved Saddoc, saying that whereas duty is the cause of all\ngood, we have only to look beyond our own doors to see evil everywhere.\nEven so, Saddoc answered, what wouldst thou? That the world, Manahem\nanswered, was created by good and evil angels. Whereupon Saddoc asked\nhim if he numbered Lilith, Adam's first wife, among the evil angels. A\nquestion Manahem did not answer, and, being eager to tell the story, he\nturned to Jesus, who he guessed did not know it, and began at once to\ntell it, after warning Jesus that it was among their oldest stories\nthough not to be found in the Scriptures. She must be numbered among the\nevil angels, he said, remembering that Saddoc had put the question to\nhim, for she rebuked Adam, who took great delight in her hair, combing\nit for his pleasure from morn to eve in the garden, and left him, saying\nshe could abide him no longer. At which words, Jesus, Adam sorrowed, and\nhis grief was such that God heard his sighs and asked him for what he\nwas grieving, and he said: I live in great loneliness, for Lilith, O\nLord, has left me, and I beg thee to send messengers who will bring her\nback. Whereupon God took pity on his servant Adam and bade his three\nangels, Raphael, Gabriel and Michael, to go away at once in search of\nLilith, whom they found flying over the sea, and her answer to them was\nthat her pleasure was now in flying, and for that reason I will not\nreturn to Adam, she said. Is that the answer we are to bring back to\nGod? they asked. I have no other answer for him, she answered, being in\na humour in which it pleased her to anger God, and the anger that her\nwords put upon him was so great that to punish her he set himself to the\ncreation of a lovely companion for Adam. Be thou lonely no more, he said\nto Adam. See, I have given Eve to thee. Adam was never lonely again, but\nwalked through a beautiful garden, enjoying Eve's beauty unceasingly,\nhappy as the day was long, till tidings of their happiness reached\nLilith, who by that time had grown weary of flying from sea to sea: I\nwill make an end of it, she said, and descending circle by circle she\nwent about seeking the garden, which she found at last, but failing to\nfind the gate or any gap in the walls she sat down and began combing her\nhair. Nor was she long combing it before Lucifer, attracted by the\nrustling, came by, saying: I would be taken captive in the net thou\nweavest with thy hair, and she answered: not yet; for my business is in\nyon garden, but into it I can find no way. Wilt lend me thy sinewy\nshape, Lucifer? for in it I shall be able to glide over the walls and\ncoil myself into the tree of forbidden fruit, and I shall persuade Eve\nas she passes to eat of it, for it will be to her great detriment to do\nso. But of what good will that be to me? Lucifer answered, wouldst thou\nleave me without a shape whilst thou art tempting Eve? Thy reward will\nbe that I will come to thee again when I have tempted Eve and made an\nend of her happiness. We shall repeople the world with sons and\ndaughters more bright and beautiful and more supple than any that have\never been seen yet. All the same, Lucifer answered, not liking to part\nwith his shape. But as his desire could not be gainsaid, he lent his\nshape to Lilith for an hour. And it was in that hour our first parents\nfell into sin, and were chased from the garden. Did she return to\nLucifer and fulfil her promise or did she cheat him? Saddoc asked. As\nManahem was about to answer Saddoc intervened again: Manahem, thou\noverlookest the fact that Mathias holds that the Garden of Eden and Adam\nand Eve, to say nothing of Lilith, are a parable, and his reason for\nthinking thus is, as thou knowest well, that the Scriptures tell us that\nafter eating of the forbidden fruit Adam and Eve sought to hide\nthemselves from God among the trees.\n\nHe holds as thou sayest, Saddoc, that the garden means the mind of man\nas an individual; and he who would escape from God flees from himself,\nfor our lives are swayed between two powers: the mind of the universe,\nwhich is God, and the separate mind of the individual. Then, if I\nunderstand thee rightly, Manahem, and thy master, Mathias, the\nScriptures melt into imagery? What says Jesus? This, Saddoc, that it was\nwith such subtleties of discourse and lengthy periods that Mathias\nfatigued our Father till he fainted away in his chair. Jesus is right,\nManahem answered; it was certainly Mathias' discourse that fatigued our\nFather, so why should we prolong the argument in his face while he is\ncoming back to life?\n\nIt was not the length of Mathias' discourse, nor his eloquence, Hazael\nsaid, that caused my senses to swoon away. My age will not permit me to\nlisten long. I would be with Jesus, and I would that ye, Saddoc and\nManahem, return to the lecture-room at once, else our brother will think\nhis discourse has failed. Jesus is here to give the attendance I\nrequire. Go, hasten, lest ye miss any of his points. The brethren were\nabout to raise a protest, but at a sign from Jesus they obeyed; Mathias'\nvoice was heard as soon as the door of the lecture-room was opened, but\nthe brethren did not forget to close it, and when silence came again\nHazael said: Jesus, come hither, sit near me, for I would speak to thee,\nbut cannot raise my voice. Thou'lt sleep here to-night, and to-morrow we\nshall meet again. And this is well, for my days are numbered. I shall\nnot be here to see next year's lambs and to agree that this new shepherd\nshall be recompensed by a gift of eighteen, as is the custom. And Jesus,\nunderstanding that the president was prophesying his own death, said:\nwhy speakest like this to me who have returned from the hills to\nstrangers, for all are strangers to me but thou. I shall be sorry to\nleave thee, Jesus, for our lives have been twisted together, strands of\nthe same rope. But it must be plain to thee that I am growing weaker;\nmonth by month, week by week, my strength is ebbing. I am going out; but\nfor what reason should I lament that God has not chosen to retain me a\nfew months longer, since my life cannot be prolonged for more than a few\nmonths? My eighty odd years have left me with barely strength enough to\nsit in the doorway looking back on the way I have come. Every day the\nthings of this world grow fainter, and life becomes to me an unreal\nthing, and myself becomes unreal to those around me; only to thee do I\nretain anything of my vanished self. So why should I remain? For thy\nsake, lest thou be lonely here? Well, that is reason enough, and I will\nbear the burden of life as well as I can for thy sake. A burden it is,\nand for a reason that thou mayest not divine, for thou art still a young\nman in my eyes, and, moreover, hast not lived under a roof for many\nyears listening to learned interpretations of Scripture. Thou hast not\nguessed, nor wilt thou ever guess, till age reveals it to thee, that as\nwe grow old we no longer concern ourselves to love God as we used to\nlove him. No one would have thought, not even thou, whose mind is always\noccupied with God, and who is more conscious of him perhaps than any one\nI have known, no one, I say, not even thou, would have thought that as\nwe approach death our love of God should grow weaker, but this is so. In\ngreat age nothing seems to matter, and it is this indifference that I\nwish to escape from. Thou goest forth in the morning to lead thy flock\nin search of pasture, if need be many hours, and God is nearer to us in\nthe wilderness than he is among men. This meaning, Jesus said, that\nunder this roof I, too, may cease to love God? Not cease to love God:\none doesn't cease to love God, Hazael answered. But, Hazael, this night\nI've yielded up the flocks to a new shepherd, for my limbs have grown\nweary, and what thou tellest me of old age frightens me. Thou wouldst\nwarn me that God is only loved on the hills under the sky---- I am too\nweak to choose my thoughts or my words, and many things pass out of my\nmind, Hazael answered. Had I remembered I shouldn't have spoken. But why\nnot speak, Father? Jesus asked, so that I may be prepared in a measure\nfor the new life that awaits me. Life never comes twice in the same way,\nHazael replied; nor do the same things befall any two men. I know not\nwhat may befall thee: but the sky, Jesus, will always be before thine\neyes and the green fields under thy feet, even while listening to\nMathias. But thou didst live once under the sky, Jesus said. Not long\nenough, Hazael murmured, but the love of God was ardent in me when I\nwalked by day and night, sleeping under the stars, seeking young men who\ncould give up their lives to the love of God and bringing them back\nhither into the fold of the Essenes. In those days there was little else\nin me but love of God, and I could walk from dusk to dusk without\nwearying; twelve and fifteen hours were not too many for my feet: my\nfeet bounded along the road while my eyes followed white clouds moving\nover the sky; I dreamed of them as God's palaces, and I saw God not only\nin the clouds but in the grass, and in the fields, and the flower that\ncovers the fields. I read God in the air and in the waters: and in every\ntown in Palestine I sought out those that loved God and those that could\nlearn to love God. I could walk well in those days, fifteen hours were\nless than as many minutes are now. I have walked from Jerusalem to Joppa\nin one day, and the night that I met thy father outside Nazareth I had\nwalked twelve hours, though I had been delayed in the morning: eight\nhours before midday, and after a rest in the wood I went on again for\nseveral hours more, how many I do not know, I've forgotten. I did not\nknow the distance that I had walked till I met thy father coming home\nfrom his work, his tools in the bag upon his shoulder. His voice is\nstill in my ear. But if it be to Nazareth thou'rt going, come along with\nme, he said. And I can still hear ourselves talking, myself asking him\nto direct me to a lodging, and his answering: there's a house in the\nvillage where thou'lt get one, and I'll lead thee to it. But all the\nbeds in that house were full; we knocked at other inns, but the men and\nwomen and children in them were asleep and not to be roused; and if by\nchance our knocking awakened somebody we were bidden away with threats\nthat the dogs would be loosed upon us. Nazareth looks not kindly on the\nwayfarer to-night, I said. Yet it shall not be said that a stranger had\nto sleep in the streets of Nazareth, were thy father's very words to me,\nJesus. Come to my house, he said, though it be small and we have to put\nsomebody out of his bed, it will be better than that our town should\ngain evil repute. Thou canst not have forgotten me coming, for thy\nfather shook thee out of thy sleep and told thee that he wanted thy bed\nfor a stranger. I can see thee still standing before me in thy shift,\nand though the hours I'd travelled had gone down into my very marrow,\nand sleep was heavy upon my eyes, yet a freshness came upon me as of the\ndawn when I looked on thee, and my heart told me that I had found one\nthat would do honour to the Essenes, and love God more than any I had\never met with yet. But I think I hear thee weeping, Jesus. Now, for what\nart thou weeping? There is nothing sad in the story, only that it is a\nlong time ago. Our speech next day still rings in my ear--my telling\nthee of the Pharisees that merely minded the letter of the law, and of\nthe Sadducees that said there was no life outside this world except for\nangels. It is well indeed that I remember our two selves sitting by the\ndoor on two stools set under a vine, and it throwing pretty patterns of\nshadow on the pavement whilst we talked--whilst I talked to thee of the\nbrethren, who lived down by the Bitter Lake, no one owning anything more\nthan his fellow, so that none might be distracted from God by the\npleasures of this world. I can see clearly through the years thy face\nexpectant, and Nazareth--the deeply rutted streets and the hills above.\n\nThe days that we walked in Nazareth are pleasant memories, for I could\nnever tell thee enough about the Essenes: their contempt of riches, and\nthat if there were one among them who had more than another, on entering\nthe order he willingly shared it. We were among the hills the day that I\ntold thee about the baker; how he put a platter with a loaf on it before\neach of the brethren, how they broke bread, deeming the meal sacred, and\nit was the next day that we bade farewell to thy father and thy mother\nand started on our journey; a long way, but one that did not seem long\nto us, so engaged were we with our hopes. It was with me thou sawest\nJerusalem for the first time; and I remember telling thee as we\njourneyed by the Jordan seeking a ford that the Essenes looked upon oil\nas a defilement, and if any one of them be anointed without his\napprobation it is wiped off, for we think to be sweaty is a good thing,\nand to be clothed in white garments, and never to change these till they\nbe torn to pieces or worn out by time.\n\nAnd of the little band that came with us that day from Galilee there\nremain Saddoc, Manahem and thyself. All of you learnt from me on the\njourney that we laboured till the fifth hour and then assembled together\nagain clothed in white veils, after having bathed our bodies in cold\nwater. But, Jesus, why this grief? Because I am going from thee? But,\ndear friend, to come and to go is the law of life, and it may be that I\nshall be with thee longer than thou thinkest for; eighty odd years may\nbe lengthened into ninety: the patriarchs lived till a hundred and more\nyears, and we believe that the soul outlives the body. Out of the\nchrysalis we escape from our corruptible bodies, and the beautiful\nbutterfly flutters Godward. Grieve for me a little when I am gone, but\ngrieve not before I go, for I would see thy face always happy, as I\nremember it in those years long ago in Nazareth. Jesus, Jesus, thou\nshouldst not weep like this! None should weep but for sin, and thy life\nis known to me from the day in Nazareth when we sat in the street\ntogether to the day that thou wentest to the Jordan to get baptism from\nJohn.\n\nAh! that day was the only day that my words were unheeded. But I am\nsaying things that would seem to wound thee, and for why I know not!\nTell me if my words wound or call up painful memories. Thy suffering is\nforgotten, or should be, for if ever any man merited love and admiration\nfor a sincere and holy life thou---- I beg of thee, Father, not to say\nanother word, for none is less worthy than I am. The greatest sinner\namongst us is sitting by thee, one that has not dared to tell his secret\nto thee.... The memory of my sin has fed upon me and grown stronger,\nbecoming a devil within me, but till now I have lacked courage to come\nto thee and ask thee to cast it out. But now since thou art going from\nus this year or the next, I wouldn't let thee go without telling it; to\nnone may I tell it but to thee, for none else would understand it. I am\nlistening, Jesus, Hazael answered.\n\nThe mutter of the water in the valley below them arose and grew louder\nin the silence; as Jesus prepared to speak his secret the doors of the\nlecture-room opened and the monks came out singing:\n\n    In the Lord put I my trust:\n    How say ye to my soul, Flee\n    As a bird to your mountain?\n    For, lo, the wicked bend their\n    Bow, they make ready their arrow\n    Upon the string, that they may privily\n    Shoot at the upright in heart.\n    If the foundations be destroyed, what\n    Can the righteous do?\n    For the righteous Lord loveth\n    Righteousness; his countenance\n    Doth behold the upright.\n\nThe words of the psalm are intended for me, Jesus whispered, and now\nthat the brethren are here I may not speak, but to-morrow---- There may\nbe no to-morrow for us, the president answered. Even so, Jesus answered,\nI cannot speak to-night. It is as if I were bidden to withhold my secret\ntill to-morrow. We know not why we speak or why we are silent, but\nsilence has been put upon me by the words of the psalm. Be it so, the\npresident answered, and he was helped by Saddoc and Manahem to his feet.\nOur Brother Jesus, he said, has given over the charge of our flocks to a\nyoung shepherd in whom he has confidence, and Jesus sleeps under a roof\nto-night, the first for many years, for, like us, he is getting older,\nand the rains and blasts of last winter have gone into his bones. All\nthe cells, Father, Saddoc replied, are filled. I know that well, Saddoc,\nHazael said as he went out; Jesus can sleep here on these benches; a\nmattress and a cloak will be sufficient for him who has slept in\ncaverns, or in valleys on heaps of stones that he piled so that he might\nnot drown in the rains. Manahem will get thee a mattress, Jesus; he\nknows where to find one. I am strong enough to walk alone, Saddoc. And\ndisengaging himself from Saddoc's arm he walked with the monks towards\nhis cell, joining them in the psalm:\n\n    All the powers of the Lord\n    Bless ye the Lord; praise and\n    Exalt him above all for ever.\n\nAs the doors of the cell closed Saddoc approached Jesus, and, breaking\nhis reverie, he said: thou hast returned to us at last; and it was not\ntoo soon, for the winter rains are cold on bones as old as thine. But\nhere comes Manahem with a mattress for thee. On the bench here, Manahem;\non the bench he'll lie comfortably, and we'll get him a covering, for\nthe nights are often chilly though the days be hot, we must try to make\na comfortable resting-place for him that has guarded our flocks these\nlong years. Wilt tell us if thou beest glad to yield thy flock to Jacob\nand if he will sell ewes and rams to the Temple for sacrifice? Ask me\nnot any questions to-night, Brother Saddoc, for I'm troubled in mind.\nForgive me my question, Jesus, Saddoc answered, and the three Essenes,\nleaning over the edge of the gorge, stood listening to the mutter of the\nbrook. At last, to break the silence that the brook rumpled without\nbreaking, Jesus asked if a wayfarer never knocked at the door of the\ncenoby after dark asking for bread and board. None knows the path well\nenough to keep to it after dark, Saddoc said; though the moon be high\nand bright the shadows disguise the path yonder. The path is always in\ndarkness where it bends round the rocks, and the wayfarer would miss his\nfooting and fall over into the abyss, even though he were a shepherd.\nThyself wouldst miss it. Saddoc speaks well; none can follow the path,\nManahem said, and fortunately, else we should have all the vagrants of\nthe country knocking at our door.\n\nWe shall have one to-night--vagrant or prophet, Jesus said, and asked\nhis brethren to look yonder; for it seemed to him that a man had just\ncome out of the shadow of an overhanging rock. Manahem could see nobody,\nfor, he said, none could find the way in the darkness, and if it be a\ndemon, he continued, and fall, it will not harm him: the devil will hold\nhim up lest he dash himself at the bottom of the ravine. But if it be a\nman of flesh and blood like ourselves he will topple over yon rock, and\nManahem pointed to a spot, and they waited, expecting to see the shadow\nor the man they were watching disappear, but the man or the shadow kept\nclose to the cliffs, avoiding what seemed to be the path so skilfully\nthat Saddoc and Manahem said he must know the way. He will reach the\nbridge safely, cried Saddoc, and we shall have to open our doors to him.\nNow he is crossing the bridge, and now he begins the ascent. Let us pray\nthat he may miss the path through the terraces. But would you have him\nmiss it, Saddoc, Jesus asked, for the sake of thy rest? He shall have my\nmattress; I'll sleep on this bench in the window under the sky, and\nshall be better there: a roof is not my use nor wont. But who, said\nSaddoc, can he be?--for certainly the man, if he be not an evil spirit,\nis coming to ask for shelter for the night; and if he be not a demon he\nmay be a prophet or robber: once more the hills are filled with robbers.\nOr it may be, Jesus said, the preacher of whom Jacob spoke to me this\nevening; he came up from the Jordan with a story of a preacher that the\nmultitude would not listen to and sought to drown in the river, and our\nfuture shepherd told me how the rabble had followed him over the hills\nwith the intent to kill him. Some great and terrible heresy he must be\npreaching to stir them like that, Manahem said, and he asked if the\nshepherd had brought news of the prophet's escape or death. Jesus\nanswered that the shepherd thought the prophet had escaped into a cave,\nfor he saw the crowd dispersing, going home like dogs from a hunt when\nthey have lost their prey. If so, he has been lying by in the cave. Who\ncan he be? Saddoc asked. Only a shepherd could have kept to the path.\nNow he sees us ... and methinks he is no shepherd, but a robber.\n\nThe Essenes waited a few moments longer and the knocking they had\nexpected came at their door. Do not open it, Saddoc cried. He is for\nsure a robber sent in advance of his band, or it may be a prisoner of\nthe Romans, and to harbour him may put us on crosses above the hills. We\nshall hang! Open not the door! If it be a wayfarer lost among the hills\na little food and water will save him, Jesus answered. Open not the\ndoor, Jesus; though he be a prophet I would not open to him. A prophet\nhe may be, and no greater danger besets us, for our later prophets\ninduced men to follow them into the desert, promising that they should\nwitness the raising of the dead with God riding the clouds and coming\ndown for judgment. I say open not the door to him, Jesus! He may be one\nof the followers of the prophets, of which we have seen enough in these\nlast years, God knows! The cavalry of Festus may be in pursuit of him\nand his band, and they have cut down many between Jerusalem and Jericho.\nI say open not the door! We live among terrors and dangers, Jesus; open\nnot the door! Hearken, Saddoc, he calls us to open to him, Jesus said,\nmoving towards the door. He is alone. We know he is, for we have seen\nhim coming down a path on which two men pass each other with difficulty.\nHe is a wayfarer, and we've been safe on this ledge of rock for many\nyears; and times are quieter now than they have been since the dispersal\nof the great multitude that followed Theudas and were destroyed, and the\nlesser multitude that followed Banu; they, too, have perished.\n\nOpen not the door, Jesus! Saddoc cried again. There are Sicarii who kill\nmen in the daytime, mingling themselves among the multitude with daggers\nhidden in their garments, their mission being to stab those that disobey\nthe law in any fraction. We're Essenes, and have not sent blood\nofferings to the Temple. Open not the door. Sicarii or Zealots travel in\nsearch of heretics through the cities of Samaria and Judea. Open not the\ndoor! Men are for ever fooled, Saddoc continued, and will never cease to\nopen their doors to those who stand in need of meat and drink. It will\nbe safer, Jesus, to bid him away. Tell him rather that we'll let down a\nbasket of meat and drink from the balcony to him. Art thou, Manahem, for\nturning this man from the door or letting him in? Jesus asked. There is\nno need to be frightened, Manahem answered; he is but a wanderer,\nSaddoc. A wanderer he cannot be, for he has found his way along the path\nin the darkness of the night, Saddoc interjected. Open not the door, I\ntell thee, or else we all hang on crosses above the hills to-morrow.\nBut, Saddoc, we are beholden to the law not to refuse bed and board to\nthe poor, Manahem replied, returning from the door. If we do not open,\nJesus said, he will leave our door, and that will be a greater\nmisfortune than any that he may bring us. Hearken, Saddoc! He speaks\nfair enough, Saddoc replied; but we may plead that after sunset in the\ntimes we live in---- But, Manahem, Jesus interjected, say on which side\nthou art.... We know there is but one man; and we are more than a match\nfor one. Put a sword in Saddoc's hand. No! Manahem! for I should seem\nlike a fool with a sword in my hand. Since thou sayest there is but one\nman and we are three, it might be unlucky to turn him from our doors.\nMay I then open to him? Jesus asked, and he began to unbar the great\ndoor, and a heavy, thick-set man, weary of limb and mind, staggered into\nthe gallery, and stood looking from one to the other, as if trying to\nguess which of the three would be most likely to welcome him. His large\nand bowed shoulders made his bald, egg-shaped skull (his turban had\nfallen in his flight) seem ridiculously small; it was bald to the ears,\nand a thick black beard spread over the face like broom, and nearly to\nthe eyes; thick black eyebrows shaded eyes so piercing and brilliant\nthat the three Essenes were already aware that a man of great energy had\ncome amongst them. He had run up the terraces despite his great\ngirdlestead and he stood before them like a hunted animal, breathing\nhard, looking from one to the other, a red, callous hand scratching in\nhis shaggy chest, his eyes fixed first on Saddoc and then on Manahem and\nlastly on Jesus, whom he seemed to recognise as a friend. May I rest a\nlittle while? If so, give me drink before I sleep, he asked. No food,\nbut drink. Why do ye not answer? Do ye fear me, mistaking me for a\nrobber? Or have I wandered among robbers? Where am I? Hark: I am but a\nwayfarer and thou'rt a shepherd of the hills, I know thee by thy garb,\nthou'lt not refuse me shelter. And Jesus, turning to Saddoc and Manahem,\nsaid: he shall have the mattress I was to sleep upon. Give it to him,\nManahem. Thou shalt have food and a coverlet, he said, turning to the\nwayfarer. No food! he cried; but a drink of water. There is some ewe's\nmilk on the shelf, Manahem. Thou must be footsore, he said, giving the\nmilk to the stranger, who drank it greedily. I'll get thee a linen\ngarment so that thou mayst sleep more comfortable; and I'll bathe thy\nfeet before sleep; sleep will come easier in a fresh garment. But to\nwhose dwelling have I come? the stranger asked. A shepherd told me the\nEssenes lived among the rocks.... Am I among them? He told me to keep\nclose to the cliff's edge or I should topple over. We watched thee, and\nit seemed every moment that thou couldst not escape death. It will be\nwell to ask him his name and whence he comes, Saddoc whispered to\nManahem. The shepherd told thee that we are Essenes, and it remains for\nthee to tell us whom we entertain. A prisoner of the Romans---- A\nprisoner of the Romans! Saddoc cried. Then indeed we are lost; a\nprisoner of the Romans with soldiers perhaps at thy heels! A prisoner\nfled from Roman justice may not lodge here.... Let us put him beyond our\ndoors. And becoming suddenly courageous Saddoc went up to Paul and tried\nto lift him to his feet. Manahem, aid me!\n\nJesus, who had gone to fetch a basin of water and a garment, returned\nand asked Saddoc and Manahem the cause of their unseemly struggle with\ntheir guest. They replied that their guest had told them he was a\nprisoner of the Romans. Even so, Jesus answered, we cannot turn him from\nour doors. These men have little understanding, Paul answered. I'm not a\ncriminal fled from Roman justice, but a man escaped from Jewish\npersecution. Why then didst thou say, cried Saddoc, that thou'rt a\nprisoner of the Romans? Because I would not be taken to Jerusalem to be\ntried before the Jews. I appealed to C\u00e6sar, and while waiting on the\nship to take me to Italy, Festus gave me leave to come here, for I heard\nthat there were Jews in Jericho of great piety, men unlike the Jews of\nJerusalem, who though circumcised in the flesh are uncircumcised in\nheart and ear. Of all of this I will tell you to-morrow, and do you tell\nme now of him that followed me along the cliff. We saw no one following\nthee; thou wast alone. He may have missed me before I turned down the\npath coming from Jericho. I speak of Timothy, my beloved son in the\nfaith. What strange man is this that we entertain for the night? Saddoc\nwhispered to Manahem. And if any disciple of mine fall into the hands of\nthe Jews of Jerusalem---- We know not of what thou'rt speaking, Jesus\nanswered; and it is doubtless too long a story to tell to-night. I must\ngo at once in search of Timothy, Paul said, and he turned towards the\ndoor. The moon is setting, Jesus cried, and returning to-night will mean\nthy death over the cliffs edge. There is no strength in thy legs to keep\nthee to the path. I should seek him in vain, Paul answered. Rest a\nlittle while, Jesus said, and drink a little ewe's milk, and when thou\nhast drunken I'll bathe thy feet.\n\nWithout waiting for Paul's assent he knelt to untie his sandals. We came\nfrom C\u00e6sarea to Jericho to preach the abrogation of the law. What\nstrange thing is he saying now? The abrogation of the law! Saddoc\nwhispered to Manahem. The people would not listen to us, and, stirred up\nby the Jews, they sought to capture us, but we escaped into the hills\nand hid in a cave that an angel pointed out to us. Hark, an angel\npointed out a cave to him! Manahem whispered in Saddoc's ear. Then he\nmust be a good man, Saddoc answered, but we know not if he speaks the\ntruth. We have had too many prophets; he is another, and of the same\ntribe, setting men by the ears. We have had too many prophets!\n\nNow let me bathe thy feet, which are swollen, and after bathing Paul's\nfeet Jesus relieved him of his garment and passed a white robe over his\nshoulders. Thou'lt sleep easier in it. They would have done well to\nhearken to me, Paul muttered. Thou'lt tell us thy story of ill treatment\nto-morrow, Jesus said, and he laid Paul back on his pillow, and a moment\nafter he was asleep.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXXII.\n\n\nJesus feared to awaken him, but was constrained at last to call after\nhim: thou'rt dreaming, Paul. Awake! Remember the Essenes ... friends,\nfriends. But Paul did not hear him, and it was not till Jesus laid his\nhand on his shoulder that Paul opened his eyes: thou hast been dreaming,\nPaul, Jesus said. Where am I? Paul inquired. With the Essenes, Jesus\nanswered. I was too tired to sleep deeply, Paul said, and it would be\nuseless for me to lie down again. I am afraid of my dreams; and together\nthey stood looking across the abyss watching the rocks opposite coming\ninto their shapes against a strip of green sky.\n\nThe ravine was still full of mist, and a long time seemed to pass before\nthe bridge and the ruins over against the bridge began to appear. As the\ndawn advanced sleep came upon Paul's eyelids. He lay down and dozed\nawhile, for about an hour, and when he opened his eyes again Jesus'\nhand was upon his shoulder and he was saying: Paul, it is now daybreak:\nat the Brook Kerith we go forth to meet the sunrise. To meet the\nsunrise, Paul repeated, for he knew nothing of the doctrine of the\nEssenes. But he followed Jesus through the gallery and received from him\na small hatchet with instructions how he should use it, and a jar which\nhe must fill with water at the well. We carry water with us, Jesus said,\nfor the way is long to the brook; only by sending nearly to the source\ncan we reach it, for we are mindful not to foul the water we drink. But\ncome, we're late already. Jesus threw a garment over Paul's shoulder and\ntold him of the prayers he must murmur. We do not speak of profane\nmatters till after sunrise. He broke off suddenly and pointed to a place\nwhere they might dig: and as soon as we have purified ourselves, he\ncontinued, we will fare forth in search of shepherds, who, on being\ninstructed by us, will be watchful for a young man lost on the hills and\nwill direct him to the Essene settlement above the Brook Kerith. Be of\ngood courage, he will be found. Hadst thou come before to-day myself\nwould be seeking him for thee, but yesterday I gave over my flock to\nJacob, a trustworthy lad, who will give the word to the next one, and he\nwill pass it on to another, and so the news will be carried the best\npart of the way to C\u00e6sarea before noon. It may be that thy companion\nhas found his way to C\u00e6sarea already, for some can return whither they\nhave come, however long and strange the way may be. Pause, we shall hear\nJacob's pipe answer mine. Jesus played a few notes, which were answered\nimmediately, and not long afterwards the shepherd appeared over a ridge\nof hills. Thy shepherd, Paul said, is but a few years younger than\nTimothy and he looks to thee as Timothy looks to me. Tell him who I am\nand whom I seek. Jacob, Jesus said, thou didst tell me last night of a\npreacher to whom the multitude would not listen, but sought to throw\ninto the Jordan. He has come amongst us seeking his companion Timothy.\nThe twain escaped from the multitude, Jacob interjected. That is true,\nJesus answered, but they ran apart above the brook, one keeping on to\nC\u00e6sarea, this man followed the path round the rocks (how he did it we\nare still wondering) and climbed up to our dwelling. We must find his\ncompanion for him. Jacob promised that every shepherd should hear that a\nyoung man was missing. As soon as a shepherd appears on yon hillside,\nJacob said, he shall have the word from me, and he will pass it on.\nJesus looked up into Paul's anxious face. We cannot do more, he said,\nand began to speak with Jacob of rams and ewes just as if Timothy had\npassed out of their minds. Paul listened for a while, but finding little\nto beguile his attention in their talk, he bade Jesus and Jacob good-bye\nfor the present, saying he was returning to the cenoby. I wonder, he\nsaid to himself, as he went up the hill, if they'd take interest in my\ncraft, I could talk to them for a long while of the thread which should\nalways be carefully chosen, and which should be smooth and of equal\nstrength, else, however deftly the shuttle be passed, the woof would be\nrough. But no matter, if they'll get news of Timothy for me I'll listen\nto their talk of rams and ewes without complaint. It was kind of Jacob\nto say he did not think Timothy had fallen down a precipice, but what\ndoes he know? and on his way back Paul tried to recall the ravine that\nhe had seen in the dusk as he leaned over the balcony with Jesus. And as\nhe passed through the domed gallery he stopped for a moment by the well,\nit having struck him that he might ask the brother drawing water to come\nwith him to look for Timothy. If my son were lying at the bottom of the\nravine, he said, I should not be able to get him out without help. Come\nwith me.\n\nThe Essene did not know who Paul was, nor of whom he was speaking, and\nat the end of Paul's relation the brother answered that there might be\ntwo hundred feet from the pathway to the brook, more than that in many\nplaces; but thou'lt see for thyself; I may not leave my work. If a man\nbe dying the Essene, by his rule, must succour him, Paul said. But I\nknow not, the Essene answered, that any man be dying in the brook. We\nbelieve thy comrade held on to the road to C\u00e6sarea. So it may have\nbefallen, Paul said, but it may be else. It may be, the Essene answered,\nbut not likely. He held on to the road to C\u00e6sarea, and finding thee no\nlonger with him kept on--or rolled over the cliff, Paul interrupted.\nWell, see for thyself; and if he be at the bottom I'll come to help\nthee. But it is a long way down, and it may be that we have no rope long\nenough, and without one we cannot reach him, but forgive me, for I see\nthat my words hurt thee. But how else am I to speak? I know thy words\nwere meant kindly, and if thy president should ask to see me thou'lt\ntell him I've gone down the terraces and will return as soon as I have\nmade search. This search should have been made before. That was not\npossible; the mist is only; just cleared, the brother answered, and\nPaul proceeded up and down the terraces till he reached the bridge, and\nafter crossing it he mounted the path and continued it, venturing close\nto the edge and looking down the steep sides as he went, but seeing\nnowhere any traces of Timothy. Had he fallen here, he said to himself,\nhe would be lying in the brook. But were Timothy lying there I could not\nfail to see him, nor is there water enough to wash him down into Jordan.\nIt must be he is seeking his way to C\u00e6sarea. Let it be so, I pray God,\nand Paul continued his search till he came to where the path twisted\nround a rock debouching on to the hillsides. We separated here, he said,\nlooking round, and then remembering that they had been pursued for\nseveral miles into the hills and that the enemy's scouts might be\nlurking in the neighbourhood, he turned back and descended the path,\nconvinced of the uselessness of his search. We parted at that rock,\nTimothy keeping to the left and myself turning to the right, and if\nanything has befallen he must be sought for by shepherds, aided by dogs.\nOnly with the help of dogs can he be traced, he said, and returning\nslowly to the bridge, he stood there lost in feverish forebodings, new\nones rising up in his mind continually, for it might well be, he\nreflected, that Timothy has been killed by robbers, for these hills are\ninfested by robbers and wild beasts, and worse than the wild beasts and\nthe robbers are the Jews, who would pay a large sum of money for his\ncapture.\n\nAnd his thoughts running on incontinently, he imagined Timothy a\nprisoner in Jerusalem and himself forced to decide whether he should go\nthere to defend Timothy or abandon his mission. A terrible choice it\nwould be for him to have to choose between his duty towards men and his\nlove of his son, for Timothy was more to him than many sons are to their\nfathers, the companion of all his travels and his hope, for he was\nfalling into years and needed Timothy now more than ever. But it was not\nlikely that the Jews had heard that Timothy was travelling from Jericho\nto C\u00e6sarea, and it was a feverish imagination of his to think that they\nwould have time to send out agents to capture Timothy. But if such a\nthing befell how would he account to Eunice for the death of the son\nthat she had given him, wishing that somebody should be near him to\nprotect and to serve him. He had thought never to see Eunice again, but\nif her son perished he would have to see her. But no, there would be no\ntime--he had appealed to C\u00e6sar. He must send a letter to her telling\nthat he had started out for Jericho. A dangerous journey he knew it to\nbe, but he was without strength to resist the temptation of one more\neffort to save the Jews: a hard, bitter, stiff-necked, stubborn race\nthat did not deserve salvation, that resisted it. He had been scourged,\nhow many times, at the instigation of the Jews? and they had stoned him\nat Lystra, a city ever dear to him, for it was there he had met Eunice;\nthe memories that gathered round her beautiful name calmed his disquiet,\nand the brook murmuring under the bridge through the silence of the\ngorge disposed Paul to indulge his memory, and in it the past was so\npathetic and poignant that it was almost a pain to remember. But he must\nremember, and following after a glimpse of the synagogue and himself\npreaching in it there came upon him a vision of a tall, grave woman\nsince known to him as a thorn in his flesh, but he need not trouble to\nremember his sins, for had not God himself forgiven him, telling him\nthat his grace was enough? Why then should he hesitate to recall the\ngrave, oval face that he had loved? He could see it as plainly in his\nmemory as if it were before him in the flesh, her eyes asking for his\nhelp so appealingly that he had been constrained to relinquish the crowd\nto Barnabas and give his mind to Eunice. And they had walked on\ntogether, he listening to her telling how she had not been to the\nSynagogue for many years, for though she and her mother were proselytes\nto the Jewish faith, neither practised it, since her marriage, for her\nhusband was a pagan. She had indeed taught her son the Scriptures in\nGreek, but no restraint had been put upon him; and she did not know to\nwhat god or goddess he offered sacrifice. But last night an angel\nvisited her and told her that that which she had always been seeking\n(though she had forgotten it) awaited her in the synagogue. So she had\ngone thither and was not disappointed. I've always been seeking him of\nwhom thou speakest. Her very words, and the very intonation of her voice\nin these words came back to him; he had put questions to her, and they\nhad not come to the end of their talk when Laos, calling from the\ndoorstep, said: wilt pass the door, Eunice, without asking the stranger\nto cross it? Whereupon she turned her eyes on Paul and asked him to\nforgive her for her forgetfulness, and Barnabas arriving at that moment,\nshe begged him to enter.\n\nAnd they had stayed on and on, exceeding their apportioned time,\nBarnabas reproving the delay, but always agreeing that their departure\nshould be adjourned since it was Paul's wish to adjourn it. So Barnabas\nhad always spoken, for he was a weak man, and Paul acknowledged to\nhimself that he too was a weak man in those days.\n\nLaos seemed to love Barnabas as a mother, and Laos and Eunice were\nreceived by me into the faith, Paul said. On these words his thoughts\nfloated away and he became absorbed in recollections of the house in\nLystra. The months he had spent with these two women had been given to\nhim, no doubt, as a recompense for the labours he had endured to bring\nmen to believe that by faith only in our Lord Jesus Christ could they be\nsaved. He would never see Lystra again with his physical eye, but it\nwould always be before him in his mind's eye: that terrible day the Jews\nhad dragged him and Barnabas outside the town rose up before him. Only\nby feigning death did they escape the fate of Stephen. In the evening\nthe disciples brought them back. Laos and Eunice sponged their wounds,\nand at daybreak they left for Derbe, Barnabas saying that perhaps God\nwas angry at their delay in Lystra and to bring them back to his work\nhad bidden the Jews stone them without killing them. Eunice was not sure\nthat Barnabas had not spoken truly, and Paul remembered with gratitude\nthat she always put his mission before herself. Thou'lt be safer, she\nsaid, in Derbe, and from Derbe thou must go on carrying the glad tidings\nto the ends of the earth. But thou must not forget thy Galatians, and\nwhen thou returnest to Lystra Timothy will be old enough to follow thee.\nHe had fared for ever onwards over seas and lands, ever mindful of his\nfaithful Galatians and Eunice and her son whom she had promised to him,\nand whom he had left learning Greek so that he might fulfil the duties\nof amanuensis.\n\nThe silence of the gorge and the murmur of the brook enticed\nrecollections and he was about to abandon himself to memories of his\nsecond visit to Lystra when a voice startled him from his reverie, and,\nlooking round, he saw a tall, thin man who held his head picturesquely.\nI presume you are our guest, and seeing you alone, I laid my notes aside\nand have come to offer my services to you. Your services? Paul repeated.\nIf you desire my services, Mathias replied; and if I am mistaken, and\nyou do not require them, I will withdraw and apologise for my intrusion.\nFor your intrusion? Paul repeated. I am your guest, and the guest of the\nEssenes, for last night Timothy and myself were assailed by the Jews. By\nthe Jews? Mathias replied, but we are Jews. Whereupon Paul told him of\nhis journey from C\u00e6sarea, and that he barely escaped drowning in the\nJordan. In the escape from drowning Mathias showed little interest, but\nhe was curious to hear the doctrine that had given so much offence. I\nspoke of the Lord Jesus Christ, Paul answered, the one Mediator between\nGod and man who was sent by his Father to redeem the world. Only by\nfaith in him the world may be saved, and the Jews will not listen. A\nhard, bitter, cruel race they are, that God will turn from in the end,\nchoosing another from the Gentiles, since they will not accept him whom\nGod has chosen to redeem men by the death and resurrection from the dead\nof the Lord Jesus Christ, raised from the dead by his Father. Mathias\nraised his eyes at the words \"resurrection from the dead.\" Of whom was\nPaul speaking? He could still be interested in miracles, but not in the\nquestion whether the corruptible body could be raised up from earth to\nheaven. He had wearied of that question long ago, and was now propense\nto rail against the little interest the Jews took in certain\nphilosophical questions--the relation of God to the universe, and\nsuchlike--and he began to speak to Paul of his country, Egypt, and of\nAlexandria's schools of philosophy, continuing in this wise till Paul\nasked him how it was that he had left a country where the minds of the\npeople were in harmony with his mind to come to live among people whose\nthoughts were opposed to his. That would be a long story to tell,\nMathias answered, and I am in the midst of my argument.\n\nThe expression that began to move over Mathias' face told Paul that he\nwas asking himself once again what his life would have been if he had\nremained in Alexandria. Talking, he said, to these Essenes who stand\nmidway between Jerusalem and Alexandria my life has gone by. Why I\nremained with them so long is a question I have often asked myself. Why\nI came hither with them from the cenoby on the eastern bank, that, too,\nis a matter that I have never been able to decide. You have heard, he\ncontinued, of the schism of the Essenes. How those on the eastern bank\nbelieve that the order can only be preserved by marriage, while those on\nthe western bank, the traditionalists up there on that rock in that\naerie, would rather the order died than that any change should be made\nin the rule of life. In answer to a question from Paul he said he did\nnot believe that the order would survive the schism. It may be, too,\nthat I return to Alexandria. No man knows his destiny; but if you be\nminded, he said, to hear me, I will reserve a place near to me. My mind\nis distracted, Paul replied, by fears for the safety of Timothy; and\nperhaps to save himself from Mathias' somewhat monotonous discourse he\nspoke of his apostolic mission, interesting Mathias at once, who began\nto perceive that Paul, however crude and elementary his conceptions\nmight be (so crude did they appear to Mathias that he was not inclined\nto include them in his code of philosophical notions at all), was a\nstory in himself, and one not lacking in interest; his ideas though\ncrude were not common, and their talk had lasted long enough for him to\ndiscern many original turns of speech in Paul's incorrect Greek,\naltogether lacking in construction, but betraying constantly an abrupt\nvigour of thought. He was therefore disappointed when Paul, dropping\nsuddenly the story of the apostolic mission, which he had received from\nthe apostles, who themselves had received it from the Lord Jesus Christ,\nbegan to tell suddenly that on his return from his mission to Cyprus\nwith Barnabas he had preached in Derbe and Lystra. It was in Lystra, he\ncried, that I met Timothy, whom I circumcised with my own hand; he was\nthen a boy of ten, and his mother, who was a pious, God-fearing woman,\nforesaw in him a disciple, and said when we left, after having been\ncured by her and her mother of our wounds, when thou returnest to the\nGalatians he will be nearly old enough to follow thee, but tarry not so\nlong, she added. But it was a long while before I returned to Lystra,\nand then Timothy was a young man, and ever since our lives have been\nspent in the Lord's service, suffering tortures from robbers that sought\nto obtain ransom. We have been scourged and shipwrecked. But, said\nMathias, interrupting him, I know not of what you are speaking, and Paul\nwas obliged to go over laboriously in words the story that he had\ndreamed in a few seconds. And when it was told Mathias said: your story\nis worth telling. After my lecture the brethren will be glad to listen\nto you. But, said Paul, what I have told you is nothing to what I could\ntell; and Mathias answered: so much the better, for I shall not have to\nlisten to a twice-told story. And now, he added, I must leave you, for I\nhave matter that must be carefully thought out, and in those ruins\nyonder my best thinking is done.\n\nSpeak to the Essenes; tell them of my conversion? Paul repeated. Why\nnot? he asked himself, since he was here and could not leave till\nnightfall. Festus had given him leave to go to Jericho to preach while\nwaiting for the ship that was to take him to Rome, and he had found in\nJericho the intolerance that had dragged him out of the Temple at\nJerusalem; circumcision of the flesh but no circumcision of the\nspirit.... But here! He had been led to the Essenes by God, and all that\nhad seemed dark the night before now seemed clear to him. There was no\nlonger any doubt in his mind that the Lord wished his chosen people to\nhear the truth before his servant Paul left Palestine for ever. He had\nbeen led by the Lord among these rocks, perhaps to find twelve\ndisciples, who would leave their rocks when they heard the truth of the\ndeath and ascension of Jesus of Nazareth and would carry the joyful\ntidings to the ends of the earth.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXXIII.\n\n\nThe Essenes, ten in number, were seated in an embrasure. A reader had\nbeen chosen (an elder) to read the Scriptures, and the attention of the\ncommunity was now engaged in judgment of his attempt to reconcile two\npassages, one taken from Numbers in which it is said that God is not as\nman, with another passage taken from Deuteronomy in which God is said to\nbe as man. He had just finished telling the brethren that these two\npassages were not in contradiction, the second being introduced for the\ninstruction of the multitude and not because the nature of man is as\nGod's nature, and, on second thoughts, he added: nor must it be\nforgotten that the Book of Deuteronomy was written when we were a\nwandering tribe come out of the desert of Arabia, without towns or\ncities, without a Temple, without an Ark--ours having fallen into the\nhands of the Philistines. He continued his gloss till Mathias held up\nhis hand and asked Hazael's permission to speak: the words that had been\nquoted from Deuteronomy, those in which the Scriptures speak of God as\nif he were a man, attributing to him the acts and motives of man, were\naddressed, as our reader has pointed out, to men who had hardly advanced\nbeyond the intelligence of childhood, whose minds were still simple and\nunable to receive any idea of God except the primitive notion that God\nis a greater man. Now the reason for my interruption is this: I should\nlike to point out that for those who have passed beyond this stage,\nwhose intelligence is not limited to their imagination, and whose will\nis not governed by selfish fears and hopes, there is another lesson in\nthe words: we can rise to the consciousness of God as an absolute Being,\nof whom we know only that he is, and not what he is, and this is what is\nmeant when God is spoken of by the name I am that I am.\n\nEleazar was minded to speak: Mathias begged of him not to withhold his\nthoughts, but to speak them, and it was at this moment that Paul\nentered, walking softly, lest his footsteps should interrupt Eleazar,\nwhom he heard say that he disagreed with the last part of Mathias'\nspeech, inasmuch as it would be against the word of the Scriptures and\nlikewise against all tradition to accept God as no more than the\nabsolute substance, which strictly taken would exclude all differences\nand relation, even the differences and relation of subject and object in\nself-consciousness. I shall not be lacking in appreciation of the wisdom\nof our learned brother, Paul heard him say, if I venture to hold to the\nidea of a God whom we know at least to be conscious, for he says: I am,\na statement which had much interest for Paul; and while considering it\nhe heard Manahem say: it is hard to conceive of God except as a high\nprinciple of being and well-being in the universe, who binds all things\nto each other in binding them to himself. Then there are two Gods and\nnot one God, Saddoc interposed quickly, an objection to which Manahem\nmade this answer: not two Gods but two aspects, thereby confuting Saddoc\nfor the moment, who muttered: two aspects which have, however, to be\nreduced to unity.\n\nPaul's eyes went from Saddoc to Mathias, and he thought that Mathias'\nface wore an expression of amused contempt as he listened and called\nupon other disputants to contribute their small thoughts to the\ndiscussion. Encouraged by a wave of his hand, Caleb ventured to remark:\nthere is God and there is the word of God, to which Hazael murmured this\nreply: there is only one God; one who watches over his chosen people and\nover all the other nations of the earth. But does God love the other\nnations as dearly as the Hebrew people? Manahem asked, and Hazael\nanswered him: we may not discriminate so far into the love of God, it\nbeing infinite, but this we may say, that it is through the Hebrew\npeople that God makes manifest his love of mankind, on condition, let it\nbe understood, of their obedience to his revealed will. And if I may add\na few words to the idea so eloquently suggested by our Brother Mathias,\nI would say that God is the primal substance out of which all things\nevolve. But these words must not be taken too literally, thereby\nrefusing to God a personal consciousness, for God knows certainly all\nthe differences and all the relations, and we should overturn all the\nteaching of Scripture and lose ourselves in the errors of Greek\nphilosophy if we held to the belief of a God, absolute, pure, simple,\ndetached from all concern with his world and his people. But in what\nmeasure, Manahem asked, laying his scroll upon his knees and leaning\nforward, his long chin resting on his hand, in what measure, he asked,\nspeaking out of his deepest self, are we to look upon God as a conscious\nbeing; if Mathias could answer that question we should be grateful, for\nit is the question which torments every Essene in the solitude of his\ncell.\n\nHas any other brother here a word to say? Now you, Brother Caleb? I am\nsure there is a thought in your heart that we would all like to hear.\nBrother Saddoc, I call upon thee! Brother Saddoc seemed to have no wish\nto speak, but Mathias continued to press him, saying. Brother Saddoc,\nfor what else hast thou been seeking in thy scroll but for a text\nwhereon to base an argument? And seeing that it was impossible for him\nto escape from the fray of argument, Brother Saddoc answered that he\ntook his stand upon Deuteronomy. Do we not read that the Lord thy God\nthat goeth before thee shall fight for thee, and in the desert thou hast\nseen that he bore thee, as a man bears his sons, all the way that ye\nwent till ye came unto this place. But Saddoc, Eleazar interrupted, has\nforgotten that one of the leading thoughts in this discourse is that the\nwords in Deuteronomy were written for starving tribes that came out of\nArabia rather than for us to whom God has given the land of Canaan. We\nwere then among the rudiments of the world and man was but a child,\nincapable, as Mathias has said, of the knowledge of God as an absolute\nbeing. But then, answered Saddoc, the Scriptures were not written for\nall time. Was anything, Mathias murmured, written for all time? Paul was\nabout to ask himself if Mathias numbered God among the many things that\ntime wastes away when his thought was interrupted by Manahem asking how\nwe are to understand the words, the heavens were created before the\nearth. Do the Scriptures mean that intelligence is prior to sense?\nMathias' face lighted up, and, foreseeing his opportunity to make show\nof his Greek proficiency he began: heaven is our intelligence and the\nearth our sensibility. The spirit descended into matter, and God created\nman according to his image, as Moses said and said well, for no creature\nis more like to God than man: not in bodily form (God is without body),\nbut in his intelligence; for the intelligence of every man is in a\nlittle the intelligence of the universe, and it may be said that the\nintelligence lives in the flesh that bears it as God himself lives in\nthe universe, being in some sort a God of the body, which carries it\nabout like an image in a shrine. Thus the intelligence occupies the same\nplace in man as the great President occupies in the universe--being\nitself invisible while it sees everything, and having its own essence\nhidden while it penetrates the essences of all other things. Also, by\nits arts and sciences, it finds its way through the earth and through\nthe seas, and searches out everything that is contained in them. And\nthen again it rises on wings and, looking down upon the air and all its\ncommotions, it is borne upwards to the sky and the revolving heavens and\naccompanies the choral dances of the planets and stars fixed according\nto the laws of music. And led by love, the guide of wisdom, it proceeds\nstill onward till it transcends all that is capable of being apprehended\nby the senses, and rises to that which is perceptible only by the\nintellect. And there, seeing in their surpassing beauty the original\nideas and archetypes of all the things which sense finds beautiful, it\nbecomes possessed by a sober intoxication, like the Corybantian\nrevellers, and is filled with a still stronger longing, which bears it\nup to the highest summit of the intelligible world till it seems to\napproach to the great king of the intelligible world himself. And while\nit is eagerly seeking to behold him in all his glory, rays of divine\nlight are pouring forth upon it which by their exceeding brilliance\ndazzle the eyes of the intelligence.\n\nWhilst he spoke, his periods constructed with regard for every comma,\nMathias' eyes were directed so frequently towards Paul that Paul could\nnot but think that Mathias was vaunting his knowledge of Greek\nexpressly, as if to reprove him, Paul, for the Aramaic idiom that he had\nnever been able to wring out of his Greek, which he regretted, but\nwhich, after hearing Mathias, he would not be without; for to rid\nhimself of it he would have to sacrifice the spirit to the outer form;\nas well might he offer sacrifice to the heathen gods; and he could not\ntake his eyes off the tall, lean figure showing against the blue sky,\nfor Mathias spoke from the balcony, flinging his grey locks from his\nforehead, uncertain if he should break into another eloquent period or\ncall upon Paul to speak. He was curious to hear Paul, having divined a\nquick intelligence beneath an abrupt form that was withal not without\nbeauty; he advanced towards Hazael and, leaning over his chair,\nwhispered to him. He is telling, Paul said to himself, that it would be\nwell to hear me as I am about to start for Rome to proclaim the truth in\nthat city wherein all nations assemble. Well, let it be so, since it was\nto this I was called hither.\n\nHazael raised his eyes and was about to ask Paul to speak, but at that\nmoment the bakers arrived with their bread baskets, and the Essenes\nmoved from the deep embrasure in the wall into the domed gallery, each\none departing into his cell and returning clothed in a white garment and\nwhite veil. Paul was about to withdraw, but Hazael said to him: none\nshares this repast with us; it is against the rule; but so many of the\nrules of the brethren have been set aside in these later days that, with\nthe consent of all, I will break another rule and ask Paul of Tarsus to\nsit with us though he be not of our brotherhood, for is he not our\nbrother in the love of God, which he has preached travelling over sea\nand land with it for ever in his mouth for the last twenty years.\nPreaching, Paul answered, the glad tidings of the resurrection,\nbelieving myself to have been bidden by the same will of God that called\nme hither and saved me from death many times that I might continue to be\nthe humble instrument of his will. I will tell you that I was behoven to\npreach in Jericho--called out of myself--God knowing well they would not\nhear me and would drive me into the mountains and turn my feet by night\nto this place. Be it so, Paul, thou shalt tell thy story, the president\nanswered, and the cook put a plate of lentils before the brethren and\nthe baker set by each plate a loaf of bread, and everyone waited till\nthe grace had been repeated before he tasted food. The peace, concord\nand good will; all that he had recommended in his Epistles; Paul saw\naround him, and he looked forward to teaching the Essenes of the\napproaching end of the world, convinced that God in his great justice\nwould not allow him, Paul, to leave Palestine without every worthy\nservant hearing the truth. So he was impatient to make an end of the\nfood before him, for the sustenance of the body was of little importance\nto him, its only use being to bear the spirit and to fortify it. He took\ncounsel therefore with himself while eating as to the story he should\ntell, and his mind was ready with it when the president said: Paul, our\nmeal is finished now; we would hear thee.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXXIV.\n\n\nYesterday the Jews would have thrown me into the Jordan or stoned me\ntogether with Timothy, my son in the faith, who instead of following me\nround the hill shoulder kept straight on for C\u00e6sarea, where I pray that\nI may find him. These things you know of me, for three of the brethren\nwere on that balcony yesternight when, upheld by the will of God, my\nfeet were kept fast in the path that runs round this ravine. The Jews\nhad abandoned their hunt when I arrived at your door, awakening fear in\nBrother Saddoc's heart that I was a robber or the head of some band of\nrobbers. Such thoughts must have disturbed his mind when he saw me, and\nthey were not driven off when I declared myself a prisoner to the\nRomans; for he besought me to depart lest my presence should bring all\nhere within the grip of the Roman power. A hard and ruthless power it\nmay be, but less bitter than the power which the Jews crave from the\nRomans to compel all to follow not the law alone, but the traditions\nthat have grown about the law. But you brethren who send no fat rams to\nthe Temple for sacrifice, but worship God out of your own hearts, will\nhave pity for me who have been persecuted by the Jews of Jerusalem (who\nin their own eyes are the only Jews) for no reason but that I preach the\ndeath and the resurrection from the dead of our Lord Jesus Christ, whose\napostle I am, being so made by himself when he spoke to me out of the\nclouds on the road to Damascus.\n\nOf this great wonder you shall hear in good time, but before beginning\nthe story you have asked me to relate I would before all calm Brother\nSaddoc's fears: I am no prisoner as he imagines me to be, but am under\nthe law to return to C\u00e6sarea, having appealed to C\u00e6sar as was my right\nto do, being a Roman citizen long persecuted by the Jews; and I would\nthank you for the blankets I enjoyed last night and for the bread I have\nbroken with you. Also for the promise that I have that one of you shall\nat nightfall put me on the way to C\u00e6sarea and accompany me part of the\nway, so that I may not fall into the hands of my enemies the Jews, of\nJerusalem, but shall reach C\u00e6sarea to take ship for Rome. None of you\nneed fear anything; you have my assurances; I am here by the permission\nof the noble Festus.\n\nAnd now that you have learnt from me the hazard that cast me among you I\nwill tell you that I am a Jew like yourselves: one born in Tarsus, a\ngreat city of Cilicia; a Roman citizen as you have heard from me, a\nprivilege which was not bought by me for a great sum of money, nor by\nany act of mine, but inherited from my father, a Hebrew like yourselves,\nand descended from the stock of Abraham like yourselves. And by trade a\nweaver of that cloth of which tents are made; for my father gave me that\ntrade, for which I thank him, for by it I have earned my living these\nmany years, in various countries and cities. At an early age I was a\nskilful hand at the loom, and at the same time learned in the\nScriptures, and my father, seeing a Rabbi in me, sent me to Jerusalem,\nand while I was taught the law I remember hearing of the Baptist, and\nthe priests of the Temple muttering against him, but they were afraid to\nsend men against him, for he was in great favour with the people.\nAfterwards I returned to Tarsus, where I worked daily at my loom until\ntidings came to that city that a disciple of John was preaching the\ndestruction of the law, saying that he could destroy the Temple and\nbuild it up again in three days. We spoke under our breaths in Tarsus of\nthis man, hardly able to believe that anyone could be so blasphemous and\nreprobate, and when we heard of his death upon a cross we were overjoyed\nand thought the Pharisees had done well; for we were full of zeal for\nthe traditions and the ancient glory of our people. We believed then\nthat heresy and blasphemy were at an end, and when news came of one\nStephen, who had revived all the stories that Jesus told, that the end\nof the world was nigh and that the Temple could be destroyed and built\nup again, I laid my loom aside and started for Jerusalem in great anger\nto join with those who would root out the Nazarenes: we are now known as\nChristians, the name given to us at Antioch.\n\nI was telling that I laid aside my loom in Tarsus and set out for\nJerusalem to aid in rooting out the sect that I held to be blasphemous\nand pernicious. Now on the day of my arrival in that city, while coming\nfrom the Temple I saw three men hurrying by, one whose face was white as\nthe dead, with a small crowd following; and everyone saying: not here,\nnot here! And as they spoke stones were being gathered, and I knew that\nthey were for stoning the man they had with them, one Stephen, they\nsaid, who had been teaching in the Temple that Jesus was born and died\nand raised from the dead, and that since his death the law is of no\naccount. So did I gather news and with it abhorrence, and followed them\ntill they came to an angle, at which they said: this corner will do.\nStephen was thrown into it, and stones of all kinds were heaped upon him\ntill one spattered his brains along the wall, after which the crowd\nmuttered, we shall have no more of them.\n\nThat day I was of the crowd, and the stone that spattered the brains of\nStephen along the wall seemed to me to have been well cast; I hated\nthose who spoke against the law of our fathers, which I held in\nreverence, as essential and to be practised for all time; and the mild\nsteadfastness in their faces, and the great love that shone in their\neyes when the name of our Lord Jesus Christ was mentioned, instead of\npersuading me that I might be persecuting saints, exasperated me to\nfurther misdeeds. I became foremost in these persecutions, and informed\nby spies of the names of the saints, I made search in their houses at\nthe head of armed agents and dragged them into the synagogue, compelling\nthem to renounce the truth that the Messiah had come which had been\npromised in the Scriptures. Nor was I satisfied when the last Nazarene\nhad been rooted out of Jerusalem, but cast my eyes forward to other\ntowns, into which the saints might have fled, and, hearing that many\nwere in Damascus, I got letters from the chief priests and started forth\nin a fume of rage which I strove to blow up with the threats of what we\nwould put the saints to when we reached Damascus. But while the threats\nwere on my lips there was in my heart a mighty questioning, from which I\ndid not seem to escape, perhaps because I had not thrown a stone but\nstood by an approving spectator merely. I know not how it was, but as we\nforded the Jordan the cruelties that I had been guilty of, the\ninquisitions, the beatings with rods, the imprisonment--all these things\nrose up in my mind, a terrible troop of phantoms. Gentle faces and words\nof forgiveness floated past me one night as we lay encamped in a great\nquarry, and I asked myself again if these saints were what they seemed\nto be; and soon after the thought crossed my mind that if the Nazarenes\nwere the saints that they seemed to be, bearing their flogging and\nimprisonments with fortitude, without complaint, it was of persecuting\nGod I was guilty, since all goodness comes from God.\n\nI had asked for letters from Hanan, the High Priest, that would give me\nthe right to arrest all ill thinkers, and to lead them back in chains to\nJerusalem, and these letters seemed to take fire in my bosom, and when\nwe came in view of the town, and saw the roofs between the trees, I\nheard a voice crying to me: Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? It is\nhard for thee to kick against the pricks; and trembling I fell forward,\nmy face upon the ground, and the Lord said: I am Jesus whom thou\npersecutest. Arise, and go into the city and it shall be told to thee\nwhat thou must do; by these words appointing me his apostle and\nestablishing my rights above those of Peter or John or James or any of\nthe twelve who walked with him whilst he lived as a man in Galilee. My\nfollowers, who were merely stricken, but not blinded as I was, took me\nby the arm and led me into Damascus, where I abode as a blind man till\nAnanias laid his hands upon me and the scales fell from my eyes, and I\ncried out for baptism, and having received baptism, which is spiritual\nstrength, and taken food, which is bodily, I went up to the synagogue to\npreach that Jesus is the son of God, and continued till the Jews in that\ncity rose up against me and would have killed me if I had not escaped by\nnight, let down from the wall in a basket.\n\nFrom Damascus I went into Arabia, and did not go up to Jerusalem for\nthree years to confer with the apostles, nor was there need that I\nshould do so, for had I not received my apostleship by direct\nrevelation? But after three years I went thither, hearing that the\npersecutions had ceased, and that some of those whom I had persecuted\nhad returned. The brother of Jesus, James, had come down from Galilee\nand as a holy man was a great power in Jerusalem. His prayers were\nvalued, and his appearance excited pity and belief that God would\nhearken to him when he knelt, for he was naked but for a coarse cloth\nhanging from his neck to his ankles. Of water and cleanliness he knew\nnaught, and his beard and hair grew as the weeds grow in the fields.\nPeter, too, was in Jerusalem, and come into a great girth since the toil\nof his craft, as a fisher, had been abandoned, as it had to be, for, as\nye know, it is dry desert about Jerusalem, without lakes or streams. But\nhe lived there better than he had ever lived before, by talking of our\nLord Jesus Christ, of whom it was no longer a danger to talk, for James\nhad made his brother acceptable in Jerusalem by lopping from him all\nthat was Jesus, making him according to his own image; with these\nChristians he no longer stood up as an opponent of the law, but as one\nwho believed in it, who had said: I come not to abolish the law but to\nconfirm it. So did his brother James interpret Jesus to me who had heard\nJesus speak out of the spirit, and when I answered that he had said too\nthat he had come to abolish the law, James answered only that his\nbrother had said many things and that some were not as wise as others.\nPeter, who was called upon to testify that Jesus wished the Jews to\nremain Jews, and that circumcision and all the observances were needed,\nanswered that he did not know which was the truth, Jesus not having\nspoken plainly on these matters, and neither one nor the other seemed to\nunderstand that it was of no avail that Jesus should have been born,\nshould have died and been raised from the dead by his Father if the law\nwere to prevail unchanged for evermore. To James and to Peter Jesus was\na prophet, but no more than the prophets, and unable to understand\neither Peter or Jesus, I returned to Tarsus broken-hearted, for there\ndid not seem to be on earth a true Christian but myself, and I knew not\nwhom to preach to, Gentiles or Jews. Only of one thing was I sure, that\nthe Lord Jesus Christ had spoken to me out of the clouds and ordained me\nhis apostle, but he had not pointed out the way, and I mourned that I\nhad gone up to Jerusalem, and abode in Tarsus disheartened, resuming my\nloom, sitting at it from daylight till dark, waiting for some new sign\nto be given me, for I did not lose hope altogether, but, knowing well\nthat the ways of Providence are not immediate, waited in patience or in\nsuch patience as I might possess myself. Barnabas I had forgotten, and\nhe was forgotten when I said that I had met none in Jerusalem that could\nbe said to be a follower of the Master.\n\nIt was Barnabas who brought me to James, the brother of the Lord, and to\nPeter, and told them that though I had persecuted I was now zealous, and\nhad preached in many synagogues that Christ Jesus had died and been\nraised from the dead. But whether they feared me as a spy, one who would\nbetray them, or whether it was that our minds were divided upon many\nthings, I know not, but Barnabas could not persuade them, and, as I have\nsaid, I left Jerusalem and returned to Tarsus, and resumed my trade,\nuntil Barnabas, who had been sent to Antioch to meet some disciples,\nsaid to them, but there is one at Tarsus who has preached the life and\ndeath of our Lord Jesus Christ and brought many to believe in him. So\nthey said to him: go to Tarsus for this man and bring him hither. And\nwhen they had seen and conferred with me and knew what sort of man I\nwas, Barnabas said, with your permission and your authority, Paul and I\nwill start together for Cyprus, for that is my country, and my friends\nthere will believe us when we tell them that Jesus was raised from the\ndead and was seen by many: first by Martha and Mary, the sisters of\nLazarus, and afterwards by Peter and by the apostles and many others. As\nthe disciples were willing that we should go to preach the Gospel in\nCyprus, we went thither furnished with letters, and received a kindly\nwelcome from everybody, as it had been foretold by Barnabas, and many\nheard the Gospel, and if my stay among you Essenes could be prolonged\nbeyond this evening and for several days I could tell you stories of a\ngreat magician and how he was confuted by me by the grace of God working\nthrough me, but as everything cannot be told in the first telling I will\npass from Cyprus back to Antioch, where we rested awhile, so that we\nmight tell the brethren of the great joy with which the faith had been\nreceived in Cyprus, of the churches we founded and our promise to the\nCyprians to return to them.\n\nAnd so joyful were the brethren in Antioch at our success that I said to\nBarnabas: let us not tarry here, but go on into Galatia. We set out,\naccompanied by John Mark, Barnabas' cousin, but he left us at Perga,\nbeing afraid, and for his lack of courage I was unable to forgive him,\nthereby estranging myself later on from Barnabas, a God-fearing man. But\nto tell you what happened at Lystra. We found the people there ready to\nlisten to the faith, and it was given to me to set a cripple that had\nnever walked in his life straight upon his feet, and as sturdily as any.\nThe people cried out at this wonder, the gods have come down to us, and\nwhen the rumour reached the High Priest that the gods had come to their\ncity, he drove out two oxen, garlanded, and would have sacrificed them\nin our honour, but we tore our garments, saying, we are men like\nyourselves and have come to preach that you should turn from vanities\nand false gods and worship the one true living God, who created the\nearth, and all the firmament. The people heard us and promised to abjure\ntheir idolatries, and would have abjured them for ever if the Jews from\nthe neighbouring cities had not heard of our preaching and had not\ngathered together and denounced us in Lystra, where there were no Jews,\nor very few. Nor were they content with denouncing us, but on a\nconvenient occasion dragged Barnabas and myself outside the town, stoned\nus and left us for dead, for we, knowing that God required us, feigned\ndeath, thereby deceiving them and escaping death we returned to the town\nby night and left it next day for Derbe.\n\nNow, Essenes, this story that I tell of what happened to us at Lystra\nhas been told with some care by me, for it is significant of what has\nhappened to me for twenty years, since the day, as you have heard, when\nthe Lord Jesus himself spoke to me out of the clouds and appointed me to\npreach the Gospel he had given unto me, which, upheld by him, I have\npreached faithfully, followed wherever I went by persecution from Jews\ndetermined to undo my work. But undeterred by stones and threats, we\nreturned to Lystra and preached there again, and in Perga and Attalia,\nfrom thence we sailed to Antioch, and there were great rejoicings in\nSaigon Street, as we sat in the doorways telling of the churches that we\nfounded in Galatia, and how we flung open the door of truth to the\npagans, and how many had passed through.\n\nBut some came from Jerusalem preaching that the uncircumcised could not\nhope for salvation, and that there could be no conversion unless the law\nbe observed, and the first observance of the law, they said, is\ncircumcision. We answered them as is our wont that it is no longer by\nobservances of the law but by grace, through our Lord Jesus Christ, that\nmen may be saved; and we being unable to yield to them or they to us, it\nwas resolved that Barnabas and Titus, a Gentile that we brought over to\nthe faith, should go to Jerusalem.\n\nOn the way thither we preached that the Saviour promised to the Jews had\ncome, and been raised from the dead, and the Samaritans hearkened and\nwere converted in great numbers, and the news of these conversions\npreceding us the joy among the brethren was very great, for you, who\nknow the Scriptures, need not be told that the conversion of the\nGentiles has been foretold; nor was it till we began to talk about the\nabrogation of the law that James and the followers of James rose up\nagainst us. We wondered, and said to each other: were ever two brothers\nas unlike as these? Though myself had never seen the Lord in the flesh,\nI knew of him from Peter, and we whispered together with our eyes fixed\non the long, lean man whose knees were reported callous from kneeling in\nthe Temple praying that God might not yet awhile destroy the world. It\nwas sufficient, so it was said, for him to hold up his hand to perform\nmiracles, and we came to dislike him and to remember that he had always\nlooked upon Jesus our Lord with suspicion during his lifetime. Why then,\nwe asked, should he come into power derived from his brother's glory?\n\nHe seemed to be less likely than any other Jew to understand the new\ntruth born into the world. So I turned from him to Peter, in whom I\nthought to find an advocate, knowing him to be one with us in this,\nsaying that it were vain to ask the Gentiles to accept a yoke which the\nHebrews themselves had been unable to bear; but Peter was still the\ntimid man that he had ever been, and myself being of small wit in large\nand violent assemblies said to him: thou and I and James will consult\ntogether in private at the end of this uproar. But James could not come\nto my reason, saying always that the Gentiles must become Jews before\nthey became Christians; and remembering very well all the trouble and\nvexation the demand for the circumcision of Titus had put upon me (to\nwhich I consented, for with a Jew I am a Jew so that I may gain them),\nand how he had submitted himself lest he should be a stumbling-block, I\nsaid to Timothy, my own son in the faith, thy mother and grandmother\nwere hearers of the law, and he answered, let me be a Jew externally,\nand myself took and circumcised. A good accommodation Peter thought this\nto be, and I said to Peter, henceforth for thee the circumcised and for\nme the uncircumcised. Against which Peter and James had nothing to say,\nfor it seemed to them that the uncircumcised were one thing in Jerusalem\nand another thing beyond Jerusalem. But I was glad thus to come to terms\nwith them, thinking thereby to obtain from them the confirmation of my\napostleship, though there was no need for any such, as I have always\nheld, it having teen bestowed upon me by our Lord Jesus Christ himself;\nand holding it to be of little account that they had known our Lord\nJesus in the flesh, I said to their faces, it were better to have known\nhim in the spirit, thereby darkening them. It might have been better to\nhave held back the words.\n\nMyself and Barnabas and Titus returned to Antioch and it was some days\nafter that I said to Barnabas: let us go again into the cities in which\nwe have preached and see if the brethren abide in our teaching and how\nthey do with it. But Barnabas would bring John Mark with him, he who had\nleft us before in Perga from cowardice of soul. Therefore I chose Silas\nand departed. He was our warrant that we were one with the Church of\nJerusalem, which was true inasmuch as we were willing to yield all but\nessential things so that everybody, Jews and Gentiles, might be brought\ninto communion with Jesus Christ.\n\nWe went together to Lystra and Mysia, preaching in all these towns, and\nthe brethren were confirmed in their faith in us, and leaving them we\nwere about to set out for Bithynia and would have gone thither had we\nnot been warned one night by the Holy Breath to go back, and instead we\nwent to Troas, where one night a vision came to me in my sleep: a man\nstood before me at the foot of my bed, a Macedonian I knew him to be, by\nhis dress and speech, for he spoke not the broken Greek that I speak,\nbut pure Greek, the Greek that Mathias speaks, and he told me that we\nwere to go over into Macedonia.\n\nTo tell of all the countries we visited and the towns in which we\npreached, and the many that were received into the faith, would be a\nstory that would carry us through the night and into the next day, for\nit would be the story of my life, and every life is long when it is put\ninto words; nor would the story be profitable unto you in any great\nmeasure, though it be full of various incidents. But I am behoven to\ntell that wherever we went the persecution that began in Lystra followed\nus. As soon as the Jews heard of our conversions they assembled either\nto assault us or to lay complaints before the Roman magistrates, as they\ndid at Philippi, the chief city of Macedonia. Among my miracles was the\nconversion of a slave, a pythonist, a teller of fortunes, a caster of\nhoroscopes, who brought her master good money by her divinations, and\nseeing that he would profit thereby no longer, he drew myself and Silas\ninto the market-place and calling for help of others had us brought\nbefore the rulers, and the pleading of the man was, and he was supported\nby others, that we taught many things that it was not lawful of them,\nbeing Jews, to hearken to, and the magistrates, wishing to please the\nmultitude, commanded us to be beaten, and when many stripes had been\nlaid on us we were cast into prison, and the jailer being charged to\nkeep us in safety thrust our feet into the stocks.\n\nMyself and Silas prayed and sang praises unto God despite our wounds,\nand as if in response there was a great earthquake, and the prison was\nshaken and all the doors opened, on seeing which the keeper of the\nprison drew his sword and would have fallen upon it, believing that the\nprisoners had fled, if I had not cried to him in a loud voice: there is\nno reason to kill thyself, for thy charges are here. What may I do to be\nsaved? he said, being greatly astonished at the miracle, and we\nanswered: believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. Thereupon he invited us into\nhis house and set food before us, and he was baptized and bidden to have\nno fear, for we confided to him that we were Romans, and that the\nmagistrates would tremble when they heard that they had ordered a\ncitizen of Rome to be beaten and him uncondemned. Why, he asked, did ye\nnot declare yourselves to be Romans? Because, we answered, we were\nminded to suffer for our Lord Jesus Christ's son, at which he wondered\nand gave thanks. He was baptized by us, and when he had carried the news\nof their mistake to the ears of the magistrates they sent sergeants\nsaying that we were to be allowed to go. But we refused to leave the\nprison, saying, we are Romans and have been beaten uncondemned. Let the\nmagistrates come to fetch us. Which message being taken to them they\ncame beseeching us to go, and not to injure them, for they had done\nwrong unwittingly, and taking pity of them for the sake of our Lord\nJesus Christ we passed into Thessalonica, where I preached in the\nsynagogues for three Sabbaths and reasoned with the Jews, showing them\npassages in the Scriptures confirming all that we said to them about the\nChrist that had suffered and been raised from the dead. Some believed,\nand others assaulted the house of Jason, in which we were living, and\nthe Romans were perplexed to know how to keep order, for wherever we\nwent there were stirs and quarrels among the Jews, the fault being with\nthem and not with us. In Corinth too the Jews pleaded against us before\nthe Roman magistrates and----\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXXV.\n\n\nA sudden dryness in Paul's throat prevented him from finishing his\nsentence, and he asked for a cup of water, and having drained it he put\ndown the cup and said, looking round, I was speaking to you about\nCorinth. The moment seemed a favourable one to Mathias to ask a\nquestion. How was it, he said, that you passed on to Corinth without\nstopping at Athens? I made stay at Athens, Paul answered, and I thank\nyou, Mathias, for having reminded me of Athens, for the current of my\ndiscourse had borne me past that city, so eager was I to tell of the\npersecutions of the Jews. We are all Jews here! I speak only of the\nHierosolymites who understand only that the law has been revealed, and\nwe have only to follow it; though, indeed, some of them cannot tell us\nwhy we should follow any law, since they do not believe in any life\nexcept the sad life we lead on the surface of this earth.\n\nBut you asked me, Mathias, about Athens. A city of graven images and\nstatues and altars to gods. On raising my eyes I always saw their marble\ndeities--effigies, they said, of all the spirits of the earth and sea\nand the clouds above the earth and the heavens beyond the clouds.\nWhereupon I answered that these statues that they had carved with their\nhands could in no wise resemble any gods even if the gods had existence\noutside of their images, for none sees God. Moses heard God on Mount\nSinai, but he saw only the hinderparts; which is an allegory, for there\nare two covenants, and I come to reveal---- Whereat they were much\namused and said: if Moses saw the hinderparts why should we not see the\nfaces, for our eyes see beauty, whereas the Hebrews see but the\nbackside? At which I showed no anger, for they were not Jews, but\nstrove, as it is my custom, to be all things to all men. The Jews\nrequire a miracle, the Greeks demand reason, and therefore I asked them\nwhy they set up altars to the unknowable God. And they said: Paul, thou\nreadest our language as badly as thou speakest it; we have inscriptions\n\"to unknown gods\" but not to the unknowable God. Didst go to school at\nTarsus, yet canst not tell the plural from the singular? To which I\nanswered: then you are so religious-minded that you would not offend any\ngod whose name you might not have heard, and so favour him by the\ninscription to an unknown God? But some of your philosophers, Athenians,\ncall God unknowable. I knew this before I learnt how superstitious ye\nare. Ye are all alike ignorant since God left you to your sins for your\nidolatry; God, unknown or unknowable, has been made manifest to us by\nour Lord Jesus Christ, who was born like us all for a purpose, his\ndeath, which was to save the world from its sins, whereupon, greedy for\na story, they began to listen to me, and I had their attention till I\ncame to these words--\"And was raised by his Father from the dead.\" Paul,\nthey answered, we will listen another day to the rest of this story of\nthy new divinity.\n\nA frivolous people, Mathias, living in a city of statues in the air, and\nin the streets below a city of men that seek after reason, and would\nexplain all things in the heavens above and the earth beneath by their\nreason, and only willing to listen to the story of a miracle because\nmiracles amuse them. A race much given to enjoyment, like women,\nMathias, and among their mountains they are not a different race from\nwhat they are in the city, but given to milking goats and dancing in the\nshade to the sounds of a pipe, and dreaming over the past glories of\nAthens, that are dust to-day though yesterday they were realities, a\nlight race that will be soon forgotten, and convinced of their\ntransience I departed for Corinth, a city of fencing masters, merchants,\nslaves, courtesans, yet a city more willing to hearken to the truth than\nthe light Athenians, perhaps because it has much commerce and is not\nslothful in business, a city wherein I fortuned upon a pious twain,\nAquila and Priscilla, of our faith, and of the same trade as myself,\nwherefore we set up our looms together in one house and sold the cloths\nas we weaved them, getting our living thereby and never costing the\nfaithful anything, which was just pride, and mine always, for I have\ntravelled the world over gaining a living with my own hands, never\ntaking money from anybody, though it has been offered to me in plenty by\nthe devout, thinking it better to be under no obligation, for such\ndestroys independence....\n\nOnce only was this rule broken by me. In Macedonia, a dyer of purple----\nBut Lydia's story concerns ye not, therefore I will leave her story\nuntold and return to Corinth, to Priscilla and Aquila, weavers like\nmyself, with whom I worked for eighteen months, and more than that;\npreaching the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ to all who\nwould hear us when our daily work was done, until the same fate befell\nus--the intervention of the Jews, who sought to embroil us, as\nbeforetimes, with the Romans.\n\nWe preached in the synagogues on the Sabbath and I upheld the faith I\nhad come to preach: that the Messiah promised to the Jews had lived and\nhad died for us. Whereupon there was a great uproar among the Jews, who\nwould not believe, and so I tore my garments and said: then I will go\nforth to the Gentiles, and find believers in our Lord Jesus Christ, and\nleave you who were elected by God as his chosen people, who were his by\nadoption, a privilege conferred upon you throughout the centuries, the\nrace out of whom came the patriarchs, and Jesus Christ himself in the\nflesh. I will leave you, for you are not worthy and will perish as all\nflesh perishes; will drift into nothingness, and be scattered even as\nthe dust of the roads is scattered by the winds. My heart is broken for\nyou, but since ye will it so, let it be so.\n\nSo did I speak, but my heart is often tenderer than my words, and I\nstrove again to be reconciled with the Jews, and abode in Corinth\nproving their folly to them by the Scriptures till again they sought to\nrid themselves of me by means of the Romans, saying before Gallic: this\nfellow persuadeth men to worship God contrary to the law. But Gallic,\nunderstanding fully that his judgment seat had not been set up for the\nsettling of disputes of the spirit, but of the things of this world,\ndrove the Jews out of his court, and there was an uproar and Sosthenes,\na God-fearing man, was beaten. Yet for the sake of the race of the\npatriarchs, the chosen people of God, I abode in Corinth till the close\nof the second year, when news reached me of the many dissensions that\nhad arisen in Jerusalem.\n\nThe old questions always stirring: whether the Gentiles should be\nadmitted without circumcision and if the observances of the law were\nsufficient; if salvation could be obtained by works without faith, and\nmany other questions that I thought had long been decided; in the hope\nof putting an end to these discussions, which could only end in schism,\nI bade the brethren good-bye on the wharf, and, shaving my head as a\nsign of my vow to keep the Feast of Pentecost, I set sail with Aquila\nand Priscilla for Syria and left them at Ephesus, though there were many\nChristians there who prayed me to remain and speak to them; but pointing\nto my shaved head, I said, my vow! and went down to Jerusalem and kept\nthe Feast of Pentecost and distributed money among the poor, which had\nbeen given to me by the churches founded by me in Macedonia, in Greece\nand Syria.\n\nI hoped to escape from discussion with James, the brother of the Lord,\nfor of what good could it be to discuss once again things on which it is\nour nature to think differently, but upheld by hope that the Jews might\nbe numbered among the faithful at the last day I told him that the Jews\nwere the root of the olive-trees whose branches had been cut, and had\nreceived grafts, but let not the grafts, I said, indulge in vainglory;\nit is not the branches that bear the root, but the root that bears the\nbranches. And many other things of this sort did I say, wishing to be in\nall things conciliatory; to be, as usual, all things to all men; but\nJames, the brother of the Lord, answered that Jesus had not come to\nabrogate the law but to confirm it, which was not true, for the law\nstood in no need of confirmation. James could do that as well as his\nbrother and better, and Peter not being there to bear witness of the\nteaching of Jesus (he too had gone forth upon a mission with John Mark\nas an interpreter, for Peter cannot speak Greek), Silas, who was with\nme, was won over by James, and easily, for Silas was originally of the\nChurch of Jerusalem; as I have already told you, he had been sent with\nus to Antioch.\n\nBut I would not weary you with such small matters as Silas' desertion of\nme to join Peter, who was preaching in Syria, and whose doctrine he said\nwas nearer to Jesus' than mine, it having been given to him by Jesus,\nwhom he had known in the flesh. So be it, I said to Silas, and went\nwithout him to Antioch, a city dear to me for that it was there the word\nChristian was spoken for the first time; my return thither was\nfortunate, for there I met Barnabas, whom it was pleasant after these\nmany years to meet again, all memory of our dissension was forgotten,\nwhich was no great matter, it having arisen out of no deeper cause than\nmy refusal to travel with John Mark, his cousin. Titus was there too,\nand we had much to tell each other of our travels and the conversions we\nhad made, and all was joy amongst us; and our joy was increased by\nPeter, who appeared amongst us, bringing Silas with him, who must have\nbeen grieved though he said nothing to me of it; but who must have seen\nthat the law to which he was attached was forgotten at Antioch; not by\nus only, but by his new leader, Peter, who mixed like ourselves with the\nGentiles and did not refuse to eat with them.\n\nA moment indeed of great joy this was, but it did not last longer than\nmany other moments of the same kind with which my life has been\nsprinkled. James, the brother of the Lord, sent up agents to Antioch\nwith letters signed by himself. They had come to tell the people that I\nhad not authority to teach, and could not be considered by anybody as a\ntrue apostle, for I had not known the Christ, it was said: and when I\nanswered them that my authority came straight from him, they began to\nmake little of my revelation, saying: even if thou didst hear the Christ\non the road to Damascus, as thou sayest, it was but for a few minutes,\nand he couldn't teach thee all his doctrine in a few minutes. A year or\nmore would be required. Thou wast deceived. No vision can be taken as of\nequal evidence to the senses. Those that we see in a vision may be but\nthe evil spirits that, if it were possible, would deceive the very\nelect. If we question an apparition it answers anything that we wish.\nThe spectre shines for an instant and disappears quickly before one has\ntime to put further questions; the thoughts of the dreamer are not under\nhis control. To see the Son of God outside of the natural flesh is\nimpossible. Even an angel wishing to be seen has to clothe himself in\nflesh. Nor were they satisfied with such sayings as these, but mentioned\nthe vision of infidels and evil livers, and to support their argument\nthus quoted Scripture, proving that God sent visions when he was\nirritated. As in Numbers, murmured Eleazar. And likewise in Exodus, said\nManahem, and he turned over the quires before him. These emissaries and\nagents asked me how it was that even if Jesus had appeared to me he\ncould not have instructed me wrongly. If I wished to prove the truth of\nmy vision it were better for me to accept the teaching of the apostles,\nwho had received it directly from him; to which I made answer: my\nrevelation was not from Jesus when he lived in the flesh, but from the\nspiritual Jesus; the spirit descended out of heaven to instruct me, and\nif God has created us, which none will deny, he has created our souls\nwherewith to know him, and he needs not the authority of other apostles\nwho speak as men, falling into the errors that men must fall into when\nthey speak, for every man's truth is made known unto him by God.\n\nOne day we came out of a house heated with argument, and as we loitered\nby the pavement's edge regretting we had not said certain things whereby\nwe might have confuted each other, we came upon Peter in a public inn,\neating and drinking with the uncircumcised, whereupon the Hierosolymites\nsaid we see now what ye are, Peter, a Jew that eats with Gentiles and of\nunclean meats. Peter did not withstand them and say as he should have\ndone: how is it that you call them that God has made unclean? but being\na timid man and anxious always to avoid schism, he excused himself and\nwithdrew, and was followed by Barnabas and Silas.\n\nIt was for this that I withstood him before all in the assembly,\nreproaching him for his inconsequences, saying to him: if thou that art\na Jew livest according to the manner of Gentiles, how is it that thou\nwouldst compel the Gentiles to live as the Jews do? and until this man\ncame thou wert one with us, saying as we say, that none is justified by\nconforming to the law and practising it, but by the faith in Jesus\nChrist. But if we seek justification in Christ, and in him alone, and\nyet are found to be sinners, of what help is Christ then to us? Is he a\nminister of sinners? God forbid! By his life and death he abolished the\nlaw, whereby we might live in faith in Christ, for the law stands\nbetween us and Christ. I say unto thee, Peter, that if Christ was\ncrucified for me I live in Christ; no longer my own life of the flesh,\nbut the spiritual life that Christ has given me. I say unto thee\nlikewise, that if we care only to know Christ through the law then\nChrist has died in vain. To which Peter answered nothing, but went his\nway, as is his custom, in silence, and my grief was great; for I could\nsee that the many were shocked, and wondered at our violence, and could\nnot have said else than that we were divided among ourselves, though\nthey said it under their breath. Nor did peace come till the emissaries\nof James left us to go to the churches I had founded in Galatia and undo\nthe work I had done there. Whereupon I collected all my thoughts for an\nepistle that would comfort those, and enable them to resist, saying:\nthough an angel from heaven tell you a different doctrine from the one\nthat I have taught you, listen not to him. Copies of this letter were\nsent to the churches that I had founded, but the sending of the letter\ndid not calm my anger. An angry soul I have been since God first\nseparated me from my mother's womb, gaining something on one side and\nlosing on the other side; but we make not ourselves; God makes us. And\nthere is a jealousy still within me; I know it and have suffered from\nit, and never did it cause me greater suffering than in those days in\nAntioch. My jealousy was like a hungry animal, gnawing at my ribs till,\nunable to bear it any longer, and seeing in visions all that I had\nraised pulled down, I started with Titus and travelled all over Galatia\nand Phrygia to Bithynia, along the shores of Pontus, and returned back\nagain, informing the kindly, docile souls, who loved us in their\nweakness, of Lystra, Derbe and other towns, setting up my loom and\npreaching every evening the coming of the Lord, whither I went in\nMacedonia, Thessalonica, Iconium, Laodicea, not forgetful of Colossae\nfor two years or more (I have forgotten), and then hearing that Apollos,\nan Alexandrian Jew of great learning, our most notable convert, of whom\nI have not spoken, for there is no time to speak of everything, had\ntaken ship at Corinth for Ephesus, I returned the way I had come along\nthe coast to meet him there, likewise many good friends, Aquila and\nPriscilla, who were working at their looms, gathering a faithful circle\nabout them. We set up shop again as we had done at Corinth, Aquila,\nPriscilla and myself worked at our looms all day, and preached in the\nevening in and about the city, and on the Sabbath in the synagogue.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXXVI.\n\n\nIn Ephesus stands a temple said to be one of the wonders of the world,\nthe Temple of Diana; pilgrims come to it from all countries, and buy\nstatues of the goddess to set upon their tables (little silver statues),\nand as the making of these is the principal industry in that city, the\nsilversmiths raised cries against me in the theatre, where once I stood\nup to address the people. Great is Diana, goddess of the Ephesians! they\ncried out, and would have thrown me to the beasts. Yea, I fought with\nthe beasts, for they were nothing else, and had not Aquila and Priscilla\nrisked their lives to save me I should have perished that day. That day\nor another day; it matters not; we all perish sooner or later. My life\nhas never been my concern, but God's, a thing upheld by God for so many\nyears that I shun danger no longer. It has even come to pass that I am\nlonely in security, withdrawn from God in houses, and safe in his arms\nwhen clinging to a spar in the dark sea. God and our Lord Jesus Christ,\nhis beloved son, have walked on either side of me in mountain passes\nwhere robbers lie in wait. We are nearer to God in hunger and thirst\nthan when the mouth is full. In fatigue rather than in rest, and to know\noneself to be God's servant is good cheer for the traveller, better than\nthe lights of the inn showing over the horizon, for false brethren may\nawait him in the inn, some that will hale him before rulers, but if he\nknows that he is God's servant he will be secure in his own heart, where\nalone security matters.\n\nIt may have been my sin to weary too often at the length of the journey,\nand to cry out to the Lord Jesus to make an end of it. It may have been\nthat I was often too eager to meet my death and to receive the reward of\nall my labour, but who shall judge me? Our Lord Jesus Christ is the only\njudge and his reign shall endure over this world till the last man has\nvanished into death. And when the last man has perished? Mathias asked.\nPaul answered: Jesus shall pass into his Father's keeping and again\nthere shall be but one God. But, Paul, Mathias rejoined, if I understand\nthee rightly, there are now two Gods, and our hope is that in time to\ncome the twain may turn to one. Paul was about to answer, but his lips\nwere parched, and he raised the cup of water to his lips, and when he\nhad drunk he was about to answer Mathias, but Hazael said: Mathias, we\nare all eager to hear the story of Paul's own life. There will be time\nafterwards to discuss his doctrine. Mathias waved his hand, a sign that\nPaul might continue his story, which he did.\n\nFrom Ephesus we returned to Corinth and to Macedonia, and dreams began\nto take hold on us of longer journeys than any we had yet undertaken; we\ndreamed of Rome, and then of Spain, for all should hear the joyful\ntidings that there is salvation for all, and we live in dread that the\njudgment may come upon the world before the distant countries have heard\nthat the Christ has been born and has died and been raised by his Father\nfrom the dead, thereby abolishing the law, which was no longer needed,\nfaith in Christ being sufficient. But if the judgment comes before all\nmen have heard of the Christ, then is God unjust. God forbid: our sloth\nand tardy feet are responsible. Our fear is for the Jews that have\nclosed their ears to the truth, and, therefore, we were warned not to\nleave Palestine without a last effort to save them. Once more my soul\nsaid unto me: Paul, go to Jerusalem, for the last time enter the Temple\nand comply with all the law, for these things matter not whether they be\ndone or left undone; all that matters is that Jerusalem should accept\nJesus. Be all things, once more, to all men. And it was after this\ncommand, given to me in the silence of the night, that I took leave of\nthe brethren at Ephesus, saying to them: brethren, you knew from the\nfirst day that I came unto Asia what manner of man had come among you,\ndirecting you only towards repentance towards God, and faith in our Lord\nJesus Christ. I would indeed remember all I said on that occasion, for I\nspoke well, the Holy Ghost being upon me, putting the very words of the\nleave-taking into my mouth that I should speak, words which I cannot\nfind again, but which were written by me afterwards, as I wished them to\nbe preserved for the use of the faithful. They shall be sent to you. But\nin this moment I'm too tired to remember them, and will continue my\nstory, telling how when the sails of the ship were lifted we came with a\nstraight course unto Coos, and the day following unto Rhodes, and thence\nPatara, and finding a ship about to start for Phoenicia, we went aboard\nand set forth again. We left Cyprus on the left, and were landed at\nTyre, where there were many disciples who said to me that I must not go\nto Jerusalem. We kneeled on the shore and prayed; and when we had taken\nleave of one another, and I had said: my face you shall see no more, we\ntook ship, and they returned home.\n\nNext day we were at C\u00e6sarea and went to the house of Philip the Apostle\n(him of many daughters, and all prophetesses), and lived with him,\ntarrying till there came from Judea Agabus, who, when he saw me, took my\ngirdle and bound his own hands and feet, and said: so at Jerusalem shall\nthe Jews bind him that owns this girdle, and they shall deliver him into\nthe hands of the Gentiles. At which all my disciples there wept, and I\nsaid: why do ye weep? for your weeping breaks my heart. Think not of\nwhat this man has said, even if he has spoken the truth, for I am ready\nto die for the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. I comforted them and went\nup to Jerusalem, and was received by the brethren. James and all the\nelders were present, and after having heard from me how widely the name\nof our Lord Jesus Christ had been made known to the Gentiles and to the\nJews that lived among the Gentiles, they answered: brother, there are a\ngreat many believers among the Jews, and all here are ardent followers\nof the law, and these have heard that thou teachest to the Jews in exile\nthat Moses may be forsaken, and that they need not circumcise their\nchildren and may set aside our customs. Now, Paul, they asked, what\nfavour dost thou expect from us if these things be as they have been\nreported to us? And being sure within myself that it was not counsel\nthey sought from me, but words out of my own mouth whereby they might\nstir up the people against me, I answered only: upon whose testimony do\nye say these things? There are, they said, four holy men, who are under\na vow; go with them and purify thyself and pay the money they need for\nthe shaving of their heads and all other expenses. Whereupon I was much\nangered, seeing the snare that they were laying for me, but, as I have\ntold you, my rule is always to be all things to all men, and remembering\nthat though Jesus Christ our Lord has set us free from the law, it would\nbe better to forgo this liberty than to scandalise a brother, I said: I\nwill do, brethren, as you ask, and went with the four poor men to the\nTemple and remained there with them for five days, abstaining from wine,\nand cutting off--well, there was little hair for me to cut off, but what\nthere was I cut off.\n\nAll went well during the first days, but the emissaries and agents of\nJames, seeing that my devotion in the Temple might win over the Jews to\nme, laid another snare, and I was accused of having held converse with\nTrophimus, an uncircumcised Greek, in the street the day of my arrival\nin Jerusalem, and this not being a sufficient offence to justify them in\nstoning me as they had stoned Stephen before my eyes, it was said that I\nhad brought him into the Temple, and the agents of the priests came on\nthe fifth day to drag me out and kill me in some convenient byway, the\nsacristans closing the doors of the Temple behind me. We will make an\nend of this mischief, the hirelings said, and began to look around for\nstones wherewith to spatter out my brains; they cast off their garments\nand threw dust into the air, and I should have met my death if the noise\nhad been any less, but it was even greater than the day Stephen died,\nand the Roman guard came upon the people and drew me out of their hands,\nsaying: what is the meaning of this? The Jews could not tell them so\ngreat was their anger.\n\nWe'll take him to the castle, the centurion said, and the crowd\nfollowed, pressing upon us and casting stones at me till the soldiers\nhad perforce to draw their swords so as to get me to the castle alive.\nWe were thrown hither and thither, and the violence of the crowd at the\nfoot of the stairs and the pressure obliged the soldiers to carry me up\nthe steps in their arms. So I turned to the Chief Captain, who was\ntrying in vain to calm the rioters, and said to him in Greek: may I\nspeak to them? So thou canst speak Greek? he answered, surprised, and\ngave me leave to speak, and I said: Hebrews, listen to a Hebrew like\nyourselves, and I told of the vision on the road to Damascus, to which\nthey listened, but as soon as the tale was over they cried: remove him\nfrom this world, he is not fit to live. At these words the centurion,\nwho was anxious to appease the people, signed to his apparitors to seize\nme, and before I had time to make myself heard these strapped me to the\nwhipping-post, my hands above me. But is it lawful to scourge a Roman\nand he uncondemned? I said to the centurion next to me. Whereupon the\nlictors withdrew and the centurion turned to the Chief Captain, who\nlooked me up and down, for, as you see, my appearance did not command\nrespect. Is it true that thou'rt a Roman citizen? he asked, and I\nanswered, yes, and he was astonished, for he had paid a great deal of\nmoney for the title. But I was born free, I answered him, confusing and\nperplexing him and putting a great fear in his heart that belike his\noffice might be taken from him for having tied a Roman citizen to the\nwhipping-post, merely that and nothing more.\n\nIt was to gain my favour that he promised to summon a council (the\nSanhedrin), and on the day appointed, ordering my chains to be unlocked,\nintroduced me to the Jews as a free man, saying he would remain to hear\nthe discussion. Brothers, I have lived till to-day in good conscience\nbefore God. On that the High Priest ordered those that stood by him to\nstrike me on the face. God shall strike thee, thou whited wall, I\nanswered him, for thou sittest to judge me according to the law, and\nbreaking the law thou orderest me to be struck. Those that were present\nsaid: so that is how thou revilest the High Priest. I did not know he\nwas the High Priest, I answered: if I had I should not have spoken as I\nspoke, for is it not written, thou must not insult the chief of thy\npeople?\n\nAs I spoke these words, I saw that the assembly was divided into two\nparts, that each part was inspired by different ideas, and that one\npart, the Sadducees, were determined upon my death. Therefore my words\nwere, brothers, I am a Pharisee and the son of a Pharisee, do you know\nof what they accuse me? Of saying that the dead will be raised out of\ntheir graves for judgment, a thing which you all believe. So did I\ndivide my enemies, persuading the Pharisees thereby to defend me, and\nthey, believing the story I told of my vision on the road to Damascus,\nsaid: let us hear nothing against him, a spirit or angel may have spoken\nto him. But the Sadducees were the stronger party, and dividing the\nPharisees with their arms many rushed to kill me, and they would have\ndone this if the Captain of the Guard had not sent soldiers to my\nassistance, who with difficulty rescued me from the Jews and brought me\nback to the castle.\n\nI was sorry for the Captain of the Guard, who came to me and said: I\nknow not how this will end or what to do with thee, and I answered him:\nthere are knots in every business, and the clever man unties them, and\nthou'lt find a way of untying this knot in thy sleep to-night.... And I\nlikewise, which was true, for a vision came to me that night, Jesus\nhimself, and he said: thou hast testified of me in Jerusalem and thou\nshalt testify of me in Rome, and Jesus having said this much, I knew\nthat I should go to Rome, how I should go I knew not, but I knew that I\nshould go and had no fear when my sister's son, my nephew, came to me\nnext day and said: forty of the Jews have banded together to kill thee,\nUncle, and this is how they will do it. They will present a petition to\nthe Chief Captain to have thee down among the council again so that they\nmay question thee regarding some points of the law which they affirm\nthou hast transgressed. Thou must not go down to them, Uncle, for they\nhave knives concealed under their cloaks, and are upon oath neither to\neat nor to drink until they have killed thee.\n\nSo they are base enough for this, I answered, but I'll outwit them, and\ncalling to the centurion said: take this young man to the Chief Captain\nof the Guard; he has matter to relate which the Chief Captain should\nhear at once, and when he had told the plot Chief Captain Lysias said:\nthey have sworn in vain. Thou shalt go with me to C\u00e6sarea and under a\nstrong guard, two hundred soldiers, seventy horsemen, and two hundred\nspearmen; these will be able to resist any attack that the Jews may\nattempt even should they hear of thy departure. At nine o'clock to-night\nI shall put into thy hand a letter to Felix, the Governor, telling him\nthat I know nothing against thee that merits death or prison. The orders\nof the Captain of the Guard were carried out punctually; we marched all\nnight, arriving at Antipatris in the morning, which is about half-way\nbetween Jerusalem and C\u00e6sarea, and all danger of surprise being now over\nthe escort divided, the four hundred men returning to Jerusalem, myself\ngoing on to C\u00e6sarea with the horsemen, to be judged by Felix, who said:\nI shall sit in judgment as soon as thy accusers arrive from Jerusalem.\n\nAnd it was five days afterwards that my accusers began to come into\nC\u00e6sarea, Ananias arriving first with some of the elders and with one\nnamed Tertullus, who began his speech against me with many coaxings of\nthe Governor, saying that it was through him that Palestine enjoyed its\ngreat peace and prosperity and for these gifts he was truly thankful,\nand though he feared he might prove tedious, still he would hope that\nFelix in his great clemency might allow him to say a few further words\nabout a pestilential fellow, an agent of sedition among the Jews\nthroughout the world, and a ringleader of the sect known as the\nNazarenes: one who came to Jerusalem but to profane the Temple, and\nwishing, he said, to judge him for his blasphemy according to our law,\nwe laid hands upon him, but the Captain, Lysias, came upon us and with\ngreat violence took him out of our hands, and after hearing him\ndisputing with us in the council said, I find no fault with him but will\nsend him to the noble Felix. And you, most noble Felix, have sent for\nus, and we have come, and feel right well that we have not come in vain,\nfor your knowledge and your justice are known in all the world. He said\nthese things and many more of this sort till he feared that his first\nwords were coming true and that he was beginning to weary Felix, which\nwas the truth, for Felix raised his hand for me to speak, whereupon\nwithout cozenage and without preamble I told Felix that I had gone to\nJerusalem with alms collected from all parts of the world for the poor\nand also for worship in the Temple. Why then, if I am the pestilential\nfellow that Tertullus says I am, is it that the Jews allowed me the\nTemple to abide therein for five days and that they have not brought\nwitnesses to testify that they found me disputing therein or stirring\nthe people to riot in the synagogue and in the city. And I see none here\nto bear witness that I do not believe in all that is written in the law\nand in the prophets; only that I believe with a great part of the\ncitizens of Jerusalem that the dead will be raised from their graves for\njudgment at the last day. If I am guilty of heresy so are many others\nhere. But you Essenes do not hold with the Pharisees, that the\ncorruptible body is raised from the dead, you believe that the soul only\nis immortal; I believe that there is a spiritual body also which is\nraised; and Paul turned his searching eyes on Mathias, in whose mind an\nanswer began to form, but before he had time to speak it the brethren\nbegan to evince a desire that Paul should continue his story.\n\nFelix after hearing me bade the Jews return to Jerusalem. I will deliver\nno sentence until I have conferred with Lysias, he said. The Jews\nreturned discomfited, and Felix said to my jailer, let him be relieved\nof his chains and be free to see his friends and disciples and to preach\nwhat he pleases. Nor was this all: Felix came with his wife, Drusilla,\nwho was a Jewess, and she heard me tell Felix that there would be a\njudgment, and he answered: speak to me again of this, and they came to\nme many times to hear of the judgment, and to hint at a sum of money\nwhich would be easy for me to collect; my disciples would pay for my\nliberty and the money would enable him to risk the anger of the Jews,\nwho, he said, desired my death most savagely.\n\nBut I was of no mind to ask my disciples to pay for my release; and then\nFelix, desirous of obtaining the good will of the Jews, put chains upon\nme again, and so left me for two years, till Festus was appointed in his\nplace.\n\nIt was three days after Festus had disembarked at C\u00e6sarea that he went\nup to Jerusalem, and no sooner had he arrived there than the High Priest\nasked for audience and besought him to send for Paul that he might be\njudged in Jerusalem; the intention of the High Priest being that I\nshould be waylaid and killed by a highwayman among the hills. But Festus\nthought it was unnecessary to bring me to Jerusalem, for he was about to\nreturn to C\u00e6sarea. Come, he said, with me, and accuse this man, and they\nagreed. And it was ten days afterwards that Festus returned to C\u00e6sarea\nand commanded me to be brought before his judgment seat. The Jews that\nhad come with him sat about, and with many voices complained against me\nof blasphemy, but their accusations were vain, for I answered: I have\nnot offended against the law of the Jews nor against C\u00e6sar, and they\nanswered, so thou sayest, but wilt thou come to Jerusalem to be judged\nby us? and Festus, who now only thought to avoid trouble and riot, said\nto me, will you go to Jerusalem that I may hear you?\n\nBut, Lord Festus, I answered, you can hear me here as well as in\nJerusalem, and these men desire but my death and ask that I shall be\nbrought to Jerusalem to kill me secretly, therefore I appeal to C\u00e6sar.\n\nWhereupon Festus answered that he had no fault to find with me, but\nsince I had appealed to C\u00e6sar I must go by the next ship, and as there\nwould be none for some weeks Festus, who had said to King Agrippa and\nBerenice, when they came to pay a visit to the new governor, and, being\nJews, were curious about my gospel, I find no fault with this man and\nwould have set him at liberty, but he has appealed to C\u00e6sar and by the\nnext ship he goes to Rome, permitted me my liberty to go whither I\npleased and to preach as I pleased in the city and beyond the city if I\npleased. Whereupon I notified to Festus I would go to Jericho, a two\ndays' journey from C\u00e6sarea, and he said, go, and in three weeks a ship\nwill be here to take thee to Rome. But he said: if the Jews should hear\nof thee thou'lt lose thy life, and he offered me a guard, which I\nrefused as useless, knowing well that I should not meet my death at\nJericho. Why cherish a love for them that hate thee? he said, and I\nanswered: they are my own people, and my heart was filled again with the\nmemory of the elect race that had given birth to the prophets. Shall\nthese go down dead into their graves never to rise again, God's chosen\npeople? I asked myself, and set out with Timothy, my son in the faith,\nfor Jericho, a city I had never seen nor yet the banks of Jordan down\nwhich Jesus went for John's baptism. But for these things I had little\nthought or care, but was as if propelled by some force that I could not\nunderstand nor withstand; and a multitude collected and hearkened to the\nstory of my conversion on the road to Damascus, but discontent broke out\namong them when I said that Jesus had come neither to confirm nor to\nabolish the law, that the law was well while we were children but now we\ncould only enter into eternal life through faith in Jesus Christ our\nLord.\n\nThe rest of my story you know: how we fled into the hills for our lives'\nsake, and how Timothy in the dark of the evening kept to the left\nwhereas I came round the shoulder of the hill and was upheld in the path\nby God, who has still need of me. His ways are inscrutable, for, wishing\nto bring me to you, he sent me to preach in Jordan and urged the Jews to\nthreaten me and pursue me into the hills, for he wished you holy men who\nlive upon this ridge of rock in piety, in humility, in content, in peace\none with the other, fearing God always, to hear of Jesus and his\nresurrection from the dead and the meaning thereof, which is that Christ\ncame to redeem us from the bondage of the law and that sense of sin\nwhich the law reveals unceasingly and which terrifies and comes between\nus and love of Jesus Christ, who will (at the sound of the last trump)\nraise the incorruptible out of the corruptible. Even as the sown grain\nis raised out of its rotten grave to nourish and rejoice again at the\nlight, so will ye nourish again in the fields of heaven, never again to\nsink into old age and death if you have faith in Christ, for you have\nall else, fear of God, and charity, piety and humility, brotherly love,\npeace and content in the work that the day brings to your hands and the\npillow that the night brings to your head for reward for the work done.\nGod that knows all knew you were waiting on this margin of rock for the\njoyful tidings, and he sent me as a shepherd might send his servant out\nto call in the flock at the close of day, for in his justice he would\nnot have it that ten just men should perish. He sent me to you with a\ndouble purpose, methinks, for he may have designed you to come to my\naid, for it would be like him that has had in his heart since all time\nmy great mission to Italy and Spain, to have conceived this way to\nprovide me with new feet to carry the joyful tidings to the ends of the\nearth; and now I stand amazed, it being clear to me that it was not for\nthe Jews of Jericho that I was sent out from C\u00e6sarea but for you.\n\nPaul waited for one of the Essenes to answer, and his eyes falling on\nMathias' face he read in it a web of argument preparing wherein to catch\nhim, and he prayed that God might inspire his answers. At last Mathias,\nin clear, silvery voice, broke the silence that had fallen so suddenly,\nand all were intent to hear the silken periods with which the Egyptian\nthanked Paul for the adventurous story he had related to them, who, he\nsaid, lived on a narrow margin of rock, knowing nothing of the world,\nand unknown to it, content to live, as it were, immersed in God. Paul's\nnarrative was full of interesting things, and he regretted that Paul was\nleaving them, for he would have liked to have given longer time to the\nexamination of the several points, but his story contained one thing of\nsuch great moment that he passed over many points of great interest, and\nwould ask Paul to tell them why the resurrection of Jesus Christ should\nbring with it the abrogation of the law of Moses. If the law was true\nonce, it was true always, for the law was the mind and spirit and\nessence of God. That is, he continued, the law spiritually understood;\nfor there are those among us Essenes who have gone beyond the letter. I,\ntoo, know something of that spiritual interpretation, Paul cried out,\nbut I understand it of God's providence in relation to man during a\ncertain period; that which is truth for the heir is not truth to the\nlord. Mathias acquiesced with lofty dignity, and continued his\ninterrogation in measured phrases: that if he understood Paul rightly,\nand he thought he did, his teaching was that the law only served to\ncreate sin, by multiplying the number of possible transgressions. Thy\nmeaning would seem to be that Jews as well as Gentiles sin by acquiring\nconsciousness of sin, but by faith in Jesus Christ we get peace with God\nand access unto his grace. Upon grace, Paul, we see thee standing as on\na pedestal crying out, sin abounds but grace abounds, fear not sin. The\nwords of my enemies, Paul cried, interrupting; sin so that grace may\nabound, God forbid. Those that are baptized in Christ are dead to sin,\nburied with him to rise with him again and to live a new life. The old\nman (that which we were before Christ died for us) was crucified with\nChrist so that we might serve sin no longer. Freed from the bondage of\nthe law and concupiscence by grace we are saved through faith in our\nLord Jesus Christ from damnation. It is of this grace that we would hear\nthee speak. Do we enter into faith through grace? Mathias asked, and,\nhaving obtained a sign of assent from Paul, he asked if grace were other\nthan a free gift from God, and he waited again for a sign of assent.\nPaul nodded, and reminded him that God had said to Moses, I will have\nmercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I\nwill have compassion. Then, Mathias said, the law of Moses is not\nabrogated, thou leanest upon it when it suiteth thy purpose to lean, and\npushest it aside when it pleases thee to reprove us as laggards in\ntradition and among the beginnings of things. It was lest some mood of\ninjustice might be imputed to God in neglecting us that we were invited\nto become thy disciples, and to carry the joyful tidings into Italy and\nSpain. But we no longer find those rudiments in the law. We read it with\nthe eyes of the mind, and we receive not from thy lips that God is like\na man--a parcel of moods, and obedient to them. It is true that God\njustifies whom he glorifies, Paul answered, but for that he is not an\nunjust God. If he did not spare his son, but delivered him to death that\nwe might be saved, will he not give us all things? Who shall accuse\nGod's elect? He that chose them? Who will condemn them? Christ that will\nsit on the right hand of his Father, that intercedes for us? Neither\ndeath nor life nor angels can separate me from the love of our Lord\nJesus Christ, and if I came hither it is for the sake of my brothers, my\nkinsmen that might be saved. God has not broken his promise to his\nchosen people. A man may be born an Israelite and not be one; we are\ntrue Israelites, not by birth but by election. God calls whom he\npleases, and without injustice. But, brethren, Mathias would ask of me:\nwhy does God yet find a fault though none may resist his will? We dare\nnot reason with God or ask him to explain his preferences. Does the vase\nask the potter: why hast thou made me thus? Had not the potter power\nover the clay to make from the same lump two vases, one for noble and\nthe other for ignoble use. Not in discourse of reason is the Kingdom of\nGod, but in its own power to be and to grow, and that power is\nmanifested in my gospel.\n\nThe approval of the brethren whitened Mathias' cheek with anger, and he\nanswered Paul that his denial of the law did not help him to rise to any\nhigher conception of the deity than to compare him to a potter, and he\nwarned Paul that to arrive at any idea of God we must forget potters,\nrejecting the idea of a maker setting out from a certain moment of time\nto shape things according to a pattern out of pre-existing matter. And I\nwould tell thee before thou startest for the end of the earth that the\nJesus Christ which has obsessed thee is but the Logos, the principle\nthat mediates between the supreme God and the world formed out of\nmatter, which has no being of its own, for being is not in that mere\npotency of all things alike, which thou callest Power, but in Divine\nReason.\n\nI have heard men speak like thee in Athens, Paul answered slowly and\nsadly, and I said then that the wisdom of man is but foolishness in\nGod's sight. But thy stay there was not long, and thou hast not spoken\nof my country, Egypt, Mathias answered, and rising from his seat he left\nthe table and passed out on to the balcony like one offended, and,\nleaning his arms on the rail, he stood looking into the abyss.\n\nA Jew of Alexandria, Manahem whispered in Paul's ear, but he holds fast\nby the law in his own sense, and in telling of this Christ thou---- We\nwould hear of Peter, Saddoc interrupted, the fisherman thou foundest\neating unclean meat with the Gentiles. Have I not said, Paul answered,\nthat what is eaten and what is drunk finds neither favour nor disfavour\nin God's eyes--that it is not by observance we are saved, but by faith\nin our Lord Jesus Christ that died to redeem us from the law, and was\nraised from the dead by his Father, and who appeared to the twelve and\nto five hundred others, some of whom are dead, but many are still alive?\nBut this Christ, who was he when he lived upon this earth? Manahem\ninquired. Son of the living God, Paul answered, that took on the\nbeggarly raiment of human flesh at Nazareth, was baptized by John in\nJordan, and preached in Galilee, went up to Jerusalem and was crucified\nby Pilate between two thieves; the third day he rose from the dead, that\nour sins---- Didst say he was born in Nazareth? Hazael asked, the word\nNazareth having roused him from his reveries, and was baptized by John\nin Jordan, preached afterwards in Galilee, and suffered under Pilate?\nWas crucified, Paul interjected; then you have heard, he said, of the\nresurrection? Not of the resurrection; but we know that our Brother\nJesus was born in Nazareth, was baptized in Jordan by John, preached in\nGalilee and suffered under Pilate. Pilate condemned many men, Paul\nanswered, a cruel man even among the Romans. But born in Nazareth and\nwas baptized by John didst say? I said it, Hazael answered. Which among\nyou, Paul asked, looking into every face, is he? Jesus is not here,\nHazael replied, he is out with the flock. He slept by thy side on this\nbalcony last night. We've listened to thy story with interest, Paul; we\ngive thee thanks for telling it, and by thy leave we will return to our\ndaily duties and to our consciences.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXXVII.\n\n\nOne of the Essenes had left some quires of his Scriptures upon the\ntable; Paul picked them up, but, unable to fix his attention, he walked\nout on to the balcony, and when the murmur of the brook began to\nexasperate him he returned to the domed gallery and walked through it\nwith some vague intention of following the rubble path that led out on\nto the mountains, but remembering the Thracian dogs chained under the\nrocks, he came back and stood by the well, and in its moist atmosphere\nfell into argument with himself as to the cause of his disquiet, denying\nto himself that it was related in any way to the story he had heard from\nthe Essenes--that there was one amongst them, a shepherd from Nazareth,\nwho had received baptism from John and suffered under Pilate, the very\none whom he had heard talking that morning to Jacob about ewes and rams.\nAt last he attributed his disquiet to his anxiety for the safety of\nTimothy.\n\nAll the same, he said, it was strange that Pilate should have put one\nfrom the cenoby on the cross, another Jesus of Nazareth.... It might be\nthat this Essene shepherd and his story were but a trap laid for him by\nthe Jews! But no----\n\nPaul remembered he had written a long epistle to the Galatians reproving\nthem for lack of faith, and now he found himself caught in one of those\nmoments to which all flesh seems prone. But no; the cause of his\ndisquiet was Timothy; Jesus had promised him news of Timothy, else he\nwould not have delayed so long among these clefts. He might start at\nonce; but he would not be able to find the way through these hills\nwithout a guide, and he could not leave till he heard from this Essene\nwhy Pilate had ordered him to be scourged. What crime was he guilty of?\nA follower he was, no doubt, of Judas the Gaulonite, else Pilate would\nnot have ordered him to be crucified. But the reason for his having left\nthe wilderness? There must be one, and he sought the reason through the\nlong afternoon without finding one that seemed plausible for more than a\nfew minutes.\n\nThe drone of the brook increased his agitation and the day was well-nigh\nspent when the doors of the cells opened and the brethren began to\nappear in their white garments; and when they had found seats about the\ntable Paul related that he was waiting for Jesus to return from the\nhills.\n\nAt last he heard one say: here is Jesus, and at the sound of the\nfamiliar name Paul started up to meet him, and speaking the first words\nthat came to his lips he asked him if it were true that he was from\nNazareth and had received baptism from John and suffered under Pilate. I\nwas born in Nazareth, but what of that? Why dost thou look into my face\nso steadfastly? Because this noon, Paul answered, while thou wast with\nthy flock, I was moved to tell the brethren of Jesus of Nazareth, who\ndied on the cross to redeem us, for I would that all you here should\njoin with us and carry the joyful tidings to Italy and Spain. The doors\nare open----\n\nHazael coming from his cell at that moment stayed the words that had\nrisen up in Paul's mind, and he looked at the president as if he\nexpected him to speak, but Hazael sank into his chair and soon after\ninto his own thoughts. So thy name is Jesus and thou'rt from Nazareth?\nPaul said, turning to the shepherd, and Jesus answered: I was born in\nNazareth and my life has been lived among these hills. Our guest, Saddoc\nsaid, interrupting, has told us the story of his life, and he hopes to\npersuade us to leave this gorge and go with him to Italy and on to\nSpain. To Spain? Jesus asked. To carry the joyful tidings that the doors\nof salvation are now open to all, Saddoc answered. He has told us that\nhe was once a great persecutor of Christians. Of Christians? Jesus\nrepeated. And who are they? The Christians are they that believe the\nMessiah promised to the Jews was raised by God from the dead, Saddoc\nreplied, and our guest would have us go with him to Spain, for on the\nroad to Damascus he had a vision, and nearly lost his sight in it. And\never since he has been preaching that the doors are open to all. He is\nthe greatest traveller the world has ever known. Christ is a Greek word,\nManahem said, for it seemed to him that Saddoc was speaking too much,\nand that he could give Jesus a better account of Paul's journeyings, his\nconversions of the Gentiles and the persecutions that followed these\nconversions: for the Jews, Manahem said, have been on his track always,\nand his last quarrel with them was yester even by the Jordan, where he\nwas preaching with Timothy. They lost each other in the hills. Of\nTimothy I have news, Jesus answered. He met a shepherd in the valley who\npointed out the way to C\u00e6sarea to him, and it may be that he is not far\nfrom that city now. Then I will go to C\u00e6sarea at once, Paul cried. I\nhave promised to put thee on the direct road, Jesus said, but it is for\nthee to choose another guide, he added, for Paul's face told him the\nthoughts that were passing in Paul's mind: that he would sooner that any\nother of the brethren should guide him out of the wilderness. After\nlooking at Paul for some time he said: I've heard from Manahem and\nSaddoc that thou wast a persecutor of Christians, but without\nunderstanding, so hurried was the story. And they tell me, Paul said,\nthat thou'rt from Nazareth and suffered under Pilate. More than that\nthey do not seem to know; but from what they tell me thy story resembles\nthat of our Lord Jesus Christ who was betrayed in a garden and was\nraised from the dead. At the words, who was betrayed in a garden, a\nlight seemed to break in Jesus' face and he said: some two years of my\nlife are unknown to anybody here, even Hazael does not know them, and\nlast night I was about to tell them to him on the balcony.\n\nYou all remember how he was carried out of the lecture-room on to this\nbalcony by Saddoc and Manahem, who left him with me. I had just returned\nfrom the mountain, having left my flock with Jacob, our new shepherd,\nand Hazael, who recovered his senses quickly in the evening air, begged\nme to tell him of Jacob's knowledge of the flock, and I spoke to him\nhighly of Jacob.... Hazael, have I thy permission to tell the brethren\nhere assembled the story I began to tell thee last night, but which was\ninterrupted? The old man raised his head and said: Jesus, I hearken, go\non with thy story.\n\nBrethren, yester evening I returned from the hills after having left our\nflock in charge of Jacob. You know, brethren, why I confided the flock\nto him. After fifty (I am fifty-five) our steps are no longer as alert\nas they were: an old man cannot sleep in a cavern like a young man nor\ndefend himself against robbers like a young man, and yesternight was the\nfirst night I spent under a roof for many a year, and under that roof I\nam to live henceforth with you here, tending on our president, who needs\nattention now in his great age. These things were in his mind and in\nmine while we sat on the balcony last night taking the air. Hazael had\nspoken his fear that the change from the hills to this dwelling would\nprove irksome to me at first, and our talk turned upon the life I have\nled since boyhood. Our president seemed to think that the better life is\nto live under the sky and the sure way to happiness is in solitude: he\nhad fallen to admiration of my life spent among the hills, and had\nspoken to me of the long journeys he used to undertake in his youth over\nPalestine, seeking for young men in whom he foresaw the making of good\nEssenes; many of you here are his discoveries, myself certainly. We\nindulged in recollection, and listening to him my thoughts were back in\nNazareth, and I waited for him to tell me how one night he met my\nfather, Joseph the carpenter, returning home after his day's work, and\nseeing in him a native of the district, he addressed himself to him and\nbegged my father to point out the road to Nazareth. My father answered:\nI am going thither, thou canst not do better than follow me. So the two\nfared on together, talking of a lodging for the night, my father fearing\nthat no house would be open to a stranger, which was the truth. They\nknocked at many, but received only threats that the dogs would be turned\nupon them if they did not hasten away. My father said: never shall it be\nrumoured in Nazareth that a stranger was turned away and had to sleep in\nthe streets. Thou shalt have my son's bed, and taking Hazael by the hand\nmy father urged him and forced him into our house. Thou shalt sleep in\nmy house, my father said, and shook me out of my sleep, saying, Jesus,\nthy bed is wanted for a stranger, and to this day I remember standing in\nmy smock before Hazael, my eyes dazed with sleep.\n\nNext day Hazael was teaching me; and it pleasing him to see in me the\nmaking of a good Essene, and my father being willing that I should go (a\ngood carpenter he did not see in me), he took me away with him through\nSamaria into Jerusalem, and we struck across the desert, descending the\nhills into the plain of Jericho, and crossed the Jordan.\n\nAfter a year's probationship I was admitted into the order of the\nEssenes and was given choice of a trade, and it was put forth that I\nshould follow the trade of my father or work amid the fig-trees along\nour terraces, but my imagination being stirred by the sight of the\nshepherds among the hills, I said, let me be one. And for fifteen years\nI led my flock, content to see it prosper under my care, until one day,\nspying two wolves scratching where I knew there was a cave, an empty one\nI thought, the hermit having been taken by wolves not long before, I\ncouched my spear and went forward; at sight of me and my dogs the wolves\nfled, as I expected they would, and the hermit that had come to the cave\novernight came out, and after thanking me for driving off the wolves\nasked me if I could guide him to a spring of pure water. Thou'rt not far\nfrom one, I said, for the cave he had come to live in was situated in\nthe valley of the leopard's den, which is but half-a-mile from our\nbrook. I will go thither with thee this evening, but first drink from my\nwater-bottle, I said, for I could see he needed water, and I spoke to\nhim of the number of hermits we had lost lately from wild animals, but\nhe did not heed me, and as soon as he had soothed his parched tongue\nwith my water-bottle he began to tell me that he had come from the\nshores of the Dead Sea and was about to begin to preach the baptism of\nrepentance for the remission of sins, and that we must not indulge in\nhope of salvation because we have Abraham for our father.\n\nHis words seemed to be true words, and I pondered on them, and along the\nJordan everybody was asking whether he was the promised Christ. I walked\nmiles to hear him, leaving my flock in another's charge, or waited for\nhim to return to his cave, and often spent the night watching over him\nlest a wild beast should break in upon him while he slept. I had known\nnone but my brethren, nor any city, and John had travelled through all\nJudea, and it was from him I learnt that the world was nearing its end,\nand that if man did not repent at once God would raise another race out\nof the stones by the wayside, so needful was the love of man to God; and\nthough it had always seemed to me God was gentler than he seemed to be\nin John's prophesying, yet his teaching suddenly seemed to be right to\nme. I got baptism from him in Jordan and went into the wilderness to\nread the Book of Daniel, in which he said all had been foretold, and,\nhaving read, at his advice I bade farewell to the brethren. Manahem,\nSaddoc, Mathias, Caleb and Eleazar remember my departure; you regretted\nit and tried to dissuade me, but I answered you, saying that God had\ncalled me to preach in my own country, Galilee, that whosoever has two\ncoats should give one to the poor; for it is the poor that will\nintercede for us on the last day; and, carrying John's doctrine further,\nI declared that it were easier for a sword to pass through an eye of a\nneedle than for a rich man to go to heaven, which may be true, but such\njudgments should be left to God, and, carrying it still further, I said\nit was as hard for a rich man to go to heaven as for cow to calve in a\nrook's nest.\n\nIn my teaching I wandered beyond our doctrines and taught that this\nworld is but a mock, a shame, a disgrace, and that naught was of avail\nbut repentance. John's teaching took possession of me, but I would not\nhave you think here that I am about to lay my sins at John's door, for\nsin it is for a man to desire that which God has not given, and I should\nhave remained an Essene shepherd following my flocks in the hills,\nwhereas John did well to come out of his desert and preach that the end\nof the world was approaching and that men must repent, for God willed\nhim to preach these things. His teaching was true when he was the\nteacher, but when I became his disciple his teaching became false; it\nturned me from my natural self and into such great harshness of mind\nthat in Nazareth when my mother came with my brothers and sisters to the\nsynagogue I said, woman, I have no need of thee, and when Joseph of\nArimathea returned to me after a long attendance by his father's bedside\n(his father had lain in a great sickness for many months; it was through\nJoseph's care that he had been saved from death, Joseph was a good son),\nI told him he must learn to hate his father and his mother if he would\nbecome worthy to follow me. But my passion was so great in those days\nthat I did not see that my teaching was not less than blasphemy against\nGod, for God has created the world for us to live in it, and he has put\nlove of parents into our hearts because he wishes us to love our\nparents, and if he has put into the heart of man love of woman, and into\nthe heart of woman love of man, it is because he wishes both to enjoy\nthat love.\n\nI fear to think of the things I said at that time, but I must speak of\nthem. One man asked me before he left all things to follow me if he\nmight not bury his father first. I answered, leave the dead to bury\ntheir dead, and to another who said, my hand is at the plough, may I not\ndrive it to the headland, I answered: leave all things and follow me. My\nteaching grew more and more violent. It is not peace, I said, that I\nbring to you, but a sword, and I come as a brand wherewith to set the\nworld in flame. I said, too, that I came to divide the house; to set\nfather against mother, brother against brother, sister against sister. I\ncan see that my remembrance of him who once was wounds the dear brethren\nwith whom I have lived so long; I knew it would be hard for you to hear\nthat an Essene had broken the rules of a holy order, and it is hard for\nme to stand before you and tell that I, who was instructed by Hazael in\nall the pious traditions of our race, should have blasphemed against\nGod's creation and God's own self. You will thrust me through the door\nas an unworthy brother, saying, go, live in the wilderness, and I shall\nnot cry out against my expulsion through the hills and valleys, but\ncontinue to repent my sins in silence till death leads me into silence\nthat never ends. You are perhaps asking yourselves why I returned here:\nwas it to hide myself from Pilate and the Jews? No, but to repent of the\nevil seed that I had sown that I returned here; and it was because he\nwished me to repent that God took me down from the cross and cured me of\nmy wounds in Joseph's house and sent me here to lead the sheep over the\nhills, and it was he who put this last confession into my mouth.\n\nIt seems to me that in telling this story, brethren, I am doing but the\nwork of God; no man strays very far from the work that God has decreed\nto him. But in the time I am telling I was so exalted by the many\nmiracles which I had performed by the power of God or the power of a\ndemon, I know not which, that I encouraged my disciples to speak of me\nas the son of David, though I knew myself to be the son of Joseph the\ncarpenter; and when I rode into Jerusalem and the people strewed palms\nbefore me and called out, the son of David, and Joseph said to me, let\nthem not call thee the son of David, I answered in my pride, if they did\nnot call it forth the stones themselves would. In the days I am telling,\npride lifted me above myself, and I went about asking who I was, Moses,\nElijah, Jeremiah or the Messiah promised to the Jews.\n\nA madman! A madman, or possessed by some evil spirit, Paul cried out,\nand rising to his feet he rushed out of the cenoby, but nobody rose to\ndetain him; some of the Essenes raised their heads, and a moment after\nthe interruption was forgotten.\n\nA day passed in the great exaltation and hope, and one evening I took\nbread and broke it, saying that I was the bread of life that came down\nfrom heaven and that whosoever ate of it had everlasting life given to\nhim. After saying these words a great disquiet fell upon me, and calling\nmy disciples together I asked them to come to the garden of olives with\nme. And it was while asking God's forgiveness for my blasphemies that\nthe emissaries and agents of the priests came and took me prisoner.\n\nAt the touch of their hands the belief that I was the Messiah promised\nto the Jews rose up in my heart again, and when the priests asked me if\nI were the Christ, the Son of the Blessed, I answered, I am, and ye\nshall see the son of man sitting on the right hand of God; and it was\nnot till I was hanging on the cross for upwards of two hours that the\nbelief I had come down from heaven to do our Father's will faded; again\nmuch that I had said seemed to me evil and blasphemous, and feeling\nmyself about to die I called out to my Father, who answered my call at\nonce, bringing Joseph of Arimathea to the foot of the cross to ask the\ncenturion for my body for burial. But the centurion could not deliver me\nunto him without Pilate's order, and both went to Pilate, and he gave me\nto Joseph for burial.\n\nNor did our Father allow the swoon to be lifted till Joseph entered the\ntomb to kiss me for the last time. It was then he opened my eyes and I\nsaw Joseph standing by me, a lantern in his hand, looking at me ... for\nthe last time before closing the tomb.\n\nHe lifted me on to his shoulder and carried me up a little twisting path\nto his house, and an old woman, named Esora, attended to my wounds with\nbalsam, and when they were cured Joseph began to tell me that my stay in\nhis house was dangerous to him and to me, and he vaunted to me in turn\nC\u00e6sarea and Antioch as cities in which I should be safe from the Jews.\nBut my mind was so weak and shaken that his reasons faded from my mind\nand I sat smiling at the sunlight like one bereft of sense. Strive as he\nmight, he could not awaken me from the lethargy in which I was sunken,\nand every day and every week increased his danger and mine; and it was\nnot till the news came that my old comrades had come to live in the\nBrook Kerith that my mind began to awaken and to move towards a\nresolution; an outline began to appear, when I said, I have led my sheep\nover the hills yonder many a time, and tempted me to speak of you till\nthe desire arose in me to see you again. You remember our arrival one\nmorning at daybreak and my eagerness to see the flock.\n\nBrother Amos was glad to see me back again, and in talking of the flock\nJoseph was almost forgotten, which shows how wandering my mind was at\nthe time.... He left without seeing me, but not without warning Hazael\nnot to question me else my mind might yield to the strain, saying that\nit hung on a thread, which was true, and I remember how for many a year\nevery cliff's edge tempted me to jump over. Joseph was gone for ever,\nand the memory of my sins were as tongues of flame that leaped by turns\nout of the ashes. But the fiercest ashes grow cold in time; we turn them\nover without fear of flame, and last night I said to Hazael as we sat\ntogether, there is a sin in my life that none knows of, it is buried\nfathoms deep out of all sight of men, and Hazael having said there was\nlittle of the world's time in front of him, I felt suddenly I could not\nconceal from him any longer the sin that Joseph had not dared to tell\nhim--that I had once believed myself to be a precursor of the Messiah\nlike many that came before me, but unlike any other I began to believe\nmyself to be the incarnate word.\n\nA soft, vague sound, the gurgle of the brook, rose out of the stillness,\nas it flowed down the gorge from cavern to cavern.\n\nAfter a little while Hazael called to Manahem and bade him relate to\nJesus the story Paul had told them, and when Jesus had heard the story\nhe was overtaken with a great pity for Paul. But thinkest that he will\nbelieve thee? Hazael asked, lifting his chin out of his beard, and the\ncalm of Jesus' face was troubled by the question and he sank upon a\nstool close by Hazael's chair. What may we do? he muttered, and the\nEssenes withdrew, for they guessed that the elders had serious words to\nspeak together.\n\nThou hast heard my story, Hazael; nothing remains now but to bid\nfarewell to thy old friend. To say farewell, Jesus, Hazael repeated, why\nshould we say farewell? Hazael, the rule of our order forbids me to\nstay, Jesus answered; those who commit crimes like mine are cast out and\nleft to starve in the desert. But, Jesus, Hazael replied, thou knowest\nwell that none here would put thee beyond the doors. Thy crimes,\nwhatever they may have been, are between thee and God. It is for thee to\nrepent, and from hill-top to hill-top thou hast prayed for forgiveness,\nand through all the valleys. All things in the end rest with him. Speak\nto us not of going. But if God had forgiven me, Jesus answered, and my\nblasphemies against him, he would not have sent this man hither. And\nwhat dost thou propose to do? Hazael asked, raising his head from his\nbeard and looking Jesus in the face.\n\nTo go to Jerusalem, Jesus answered, and to tell the people that I was\nnot raised from the dead by God to open the doors of heaven to Jews and\ninfidels alike. But who will believe thee to be Jesus that Pilate\ncondemned to the cross? Hazael asked. Twenty years have gone over and\nthey will say: a poor, insane shepherd from the Judean hills. Be this as\nit may, my repentance will then be complete, Jesus muttered. But thou\nhast repented, Hazael wailed in his beard. But, Jesus, all religions,\nexcept ours, are founded on lies, and there have been thousands, and\nthere will be thousands more. Why trouble thyself about the races that\ncover the face of the earth or even about thine own race. Let thy\nthoughts not stray from this group of Essenes whom thou hast known\nalways or from me who found thee in Nazareth and took thee by the hand.\nWhy think of me? It is enough to remember that all good and all evil\n(that concern us) proceeds from ourselves. Hast not said to me that God\nhas implanted a sense of good and evil in our hearts and that it is by\nthis sense that we know him rather than through scrolls and miracles?\nAbide by thy own words, Jesus. Be not led away again by an impulse, and\ngo not forth again, for it is by going forth, as thou knowest, that we\nfall into sin. Wouldst try once more to make others according to thine\nown image and likeness, to make them see and hear and feel as thou\nfeelest, seest and hearest; but such changes may not be made by any man\nin another. We may not alter the work of God, and we are all the works\nof God, each shaped out of a design that lay in the back of his mind for\nall eternity. We cannot reshape others nor ourselves, and why do I tell\nthings thou knowest better than I? The thoughts that I am teaching now\nare thine own thoughts related to me often on thy return from the hills\nand collected by me in faithful memory. Hast forgotten, Jesus, having\nsaid to me, the world cannot be remoulded, all men may not be saved,\nonly a few, by the grace of God? I said these things to thee, Hazael,\nbut what did I say but my thoughts, and what are my thoughts? Lighter\nthan the bloom of dandelion floating on the hills. It is not to our own\nthoughts we must look for guidance but God's thoughts, which are deep in\nus and clear in us, but we do not listen and are led away by our reason.\nMy sin was to have preached John as well as myself. I strayed beyond\nmyself and lost myself in the love of God, a thing a man may do if he\nlove not his fellows. My sin was not to have loved men enough. But we\nare as God made us, and must do the best we can with ourselves.\n\nJesus waited for Hazael to answer him, but Hazael made no answer, but\nsat like a stone, his head hanging upon his chest. Why dost thou not\nanswer, Hazael? he said, and Hazael answered: Jesus, my thoughts were\naway. I was thinking of last night, of our talk together in that\nbalcony--I was thinking, Jesus, how sweet life is in the beginning, and\nhow it grows bitter in the mouth; and the end seems bitter indeed when\nwe think of the gladness that day when we walked through the garlanded\nstreets of our first day together in Nazareth. It was in the springtime\nof our lives and of the year. How delightful it was for me to find one\nlike thee so eager to understand the life of the Essenes: so eager to\njoin us. Such delight I shall not find again. We spoke last night of our\njourney from Nazareth to Jerusalem and across the Jordan. Thou wouldst\nnot follow thy father's trade, but would lead flocks from the hills, and\nbecamest in time the best shepherd, it is said, ever known in the hills.\nNo one ever had an eye for a ram or ewe like thee, and of thy cure for\nscab all the shepherds are envious. We were proud of our shepherd, but\nhe met John and came to me saying that God had called him to go forth\nand convert the world. Since God has placed thee here, I said, how is it\nthat he should come and call thee away now? And thou wast eager with\nexplanation up and down the terraces till we reached the bridge. We\ncrossed it and followed the path and under the cliffs till we came to\nthe road that leads to Jerusalem. It was there we said farewell. Two\nyears or more passed away, and then Joseph brought thee back. A tired,\nsuffering man whose wits were half gone and who recovered them slowly,\nbut who did not recover them while leading his flock. How often have we\ntalked of its increase, and now we shall never talk again of rams and\newes nor of thy meditations in the desert and on the hill-tops and in\nthe cave at night. So much to me were these sweet returnings of thee\nfrom the hills that my hope was that the dawn was drawing nigh when thou\nwouldst return no more to the hills, and yesternight was a happy night\nwhen we sat together on the balcony indulging in recollection, thinking\nthat henceforth we should live within sight of each other's faces\nalways. My hope last night was that it would be thou that wouldst close\nmy eyes and lay me in a rock sepulchre out of reach of the hyenas. But\nmy hopes have all vanished now. Thou art about to leave me. The\nbrethren? No, they will not leave me, but even should all remain, if\nthou be not here I shall be as alone.\n\nBut, Hazael, all may be as thou sayest, the Jews will welcome me, Jesus\nanswered. I am no longer the enemy; Paul is the enemy of Judaism and I\nam become the testimony. Judaism, he says, is the root that bears the\nbranches, and if I go to Jerusalem and tell the Jews that the Nazarene\nwhom Pilate put upon the cross still lives in the flesh, they will\nrejoice exceedingly, and send agents and emissaries after him wherever\nhe goes. Paul persecuted me and my disciples, and now it would seem that\nmy hand is turned against him. Remain with us, Hazael cried. Forget the\nworld, leave it to itself and fear not; one lie more will make no\ndifference in a world that has lived upon lies from the beginning of\ntime. A counsel that tempts me, for I would begin no persecution against\nPaul, but the lie has spread and will run all over the world even as a\nsingle mustard seed, and the seed is of my sowing; all returns to me;\nthat Paul was able to follow the path is certain testimony that he was\nsent by God to me, and that I am called to be about my Father's work. As\nthou sayest, things repeat themselves. Farewell, Hazael. Farewell, my\nfather in the faith. So there is no detaining thee, my dear son, and,\nrising from his seat, Hazael put a staff in Jesus' hand and hung a scrip\nabout his neck. If thy business be done perhaps---- But no, let us\nindulge in no false hopes. Neither will look upon the other's face\nagain. Jesus did not answer, and returning to the balcony Hazael said: I\nwill sit here and watch thee for the last time.\n\nBut Jesus did not raise his eyes until he reached the bridge, and then\nhe took the path that led by the cenobies of other days, and walked\nhastily, for he was too agitated to think. A little in front of him,\nsome hundred yards, a great rock overhung the path, and when he came\nthere he stopped, for it was the last point from which he could have\nsight of the balcony. As he stood looking back, shading his eyes with\nhis hand, he saw two of the brethren come and touch Hazael on the\nshoulder. As he did not raise his head to answer, they consulted\ntogether, and Jesus hurried away lest some sudden and impetuous emotion\nshould call him back from his errand.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXXVIII.\n\n\nA small black bird with yellow wings, usually met with along the brook\nflitting from stone to stone, diverted his thoughts from Jerusalem and\nset him wondering what instinct had brought the bird up from the brook\non to a dry hill-top. The bird must have sensed the coming rain, he\nsaid, and he came up here to escape the torrent. On looking round the\nsky for confirmation of the bird's instinct, he saw dark clouds\ngathering everywhere and in a manner that to his shepherd's eye\nbetokened rain. The bird seems a little impatient with the clouds for\nnot breaking, he continued, and at that moment the bird turned sharply\nfrom the rock on which he was about to alight, and Jesus, divining a\ncause for the change of intention, sought behind the rock for it and\nfound it in a man lying there with foam upon his lips. He seemed to\nJesus like one returning to himself out of a great swoon, and helping\nhim to his feet Jesus seated him on a rock. In a little while, Paul\nsaid, I shall be able to continue my journey. Thou'rt Jesus whom I left\nspeaking in the cenoby. Give me a little water to drink. I forgot to\nfill the bottle before I left the brook, Jesus answered. There is a\nlittle left, but not the fresh water that I would like to give thee,\nPaul, but water from overnight. It matters not, Paul said, and having\ndrunk a little and bathed his temples, Paul asked Jesus to help him to\nhis feet, but after a few yards he tottered into Jesus' arms and had to\nrest again, and while resting he said: I rushed out of the cenoby, for I\nfelt the swoon was nigh upon me. I am sorry to have interrupted thy\ndiscourse, he added, but refrain from repeating any of it, for my brain\nis too tired to listen to thee. Thou'lt understand the weakness of a\nsick man and pardon me. Now I'm beginning to remember. I had a promise\nfrom thee to lead me out of this desert. Yes, Paul, I promised to guide\nthee to C\u00e6sarea---- But I rushed away, Paul said, and thou hast followed\nme, knowing well that I should not find my way alone to C\u00e6sarea. I\nshould have missed it and perhaps fallen into the hands of the Jews or\nfallen over the precipice and become food for vultures. Now my strength\nis coming back to me, but without thee I shall not find my way out of\nthe desert. Fear nothing, Paul, I shall not leave thee till I have seen\nthee safely on thy way to C\u00e6sarea or within sight of that city. Thou\nhast come to guide me? Paul asked, looking up. Yes, to guide thee, Paul,\nto accompany thee to C\u00e6sarea, if not all the way the greater part of it,\nJesus answered. Thou'lt sleep to-morrow at a village about two hours\nfrom C\u00e6sarea, and there we shall part. But be not afraid. I'll not leave\nthee till thou'rt safe out of reach of the Jews. But I must be at\nC\u00e6sarea to-morrow, Paul said, or else my mission to Italy and Spain will\nbe delayed, perhaps forfeited. My mission to Spain, dost hear me? Do not\nspeak of thy mission now, Jesus answered, for he was afraid lest a\ndiscussion might spring up between him and Paul, and he was glad when\nPaul asked him how it was he had come upon him in this great wilderness.\nHe asked Jesus if he had traced his footsteps in the sand, or if an\nangel had guided him. My eyes are not young enough to follow footsteps\nin the sand, Jesus replied, and I saw no angel, but a bird turned aside\nfrom the rock on which he was about to alight abruptly, and going to\nseek the cause of it I found thee.... Now if thy strength be coming back\nwe will try to walk a little farther.\n\nI'll lean on thee, and then, just as if Paul felt that Jesus might tell\nhim once again that he was Jesus of Nazareth whom Pilate had condemned\nto the cross, he began to put questions: was Jesus sure that it was not\nan angel disguised as a bird that had directed him? Jesus could only\nanswer that as far as he knew the bird was a bird and no more. But birds\nand angels are alike contained within the will of God; whereupon Paul\ninvited Jesus to speak of the angels that doubtless alighted among the\nrocks and conversed with the Essenes without fear of falling into sin,\nthere being no women in the cenoby. But in the churches and synagogues\nit was different, and he had always taught that women must be careful to\ncover their hair under veils lest angels might be tempted. For the\nsoiled angel, he explained, is unable to return to heaven, and therefore\npasses into the bodies of men and women and becomes a demon, and when\nthe soiled angel can find neither men nor women to descend into they\nabide in animals, and become arch demons.\n\nPaul, who had seemed to Jesus to have recovered a great part of his\nstrength, spoke with great volubility and vehemence, saying that angels\nwere but the messengers of God, and to carry on the work of the world\nGod must have messengers, but angels had no power to carry messages from\nman back to God. There was but one Mediator, and he was on the point of\nsaying that this Mediator was Jesus Christ our Lord, but he checked\nhimself, and said instead that the power to perform miracles was not\ntransmitted from God to man by means of angels. Angels, he continued,\nwere no more than God's messengers, and he related that when he had shed\na mist and darkness over the eyes of Elymas, the sooth-sayer in Cyprus,\nhe had received the power to do so direct from God; he affirmed too, and\nin great earnestness, that it was not an angel but God himself that had\nprompted him to tell the cripple at Iconium to stand upright on his\nfeet; he had been warned in a vision not to go into Bithynia; and at\nTroas a man had appeared to him in the night and ordered him to come\nover to Macedonia, which was his country; he did not know if the man was\na real man in the flesh or the spirit of a man who had lived in the\nflesh: but he was not an angel. Of that Paul was sure and certain; then\nhe related how he had taken ship and sailed to Samothrace, and next day\nto Neopolis, and the next day to Philippi, and how in the city of\nThyatira he had bidden a demon depart out of a certain damsel who\nbrought her master much gain by soothsaying. And for doing this he had\nbeen cast into prison. He knew not of angels, and it was an earthquake\nthat caused the prison doors to open and not an angel. Peter had met\nangels, but he, Paul, had never met one, he knew naught of angels,\nexcept the terrible Kosmokratores, the rulers of this world, the\nplanetary spirits of the Chaldeans, and he feared angel worship, and had\nspoken to the Colossians against it, saying: remember there is always\nbut one Mediator between God and man, Jesus Christ our Lord, who came to\ndeliver us from those usurping powers and their chief, the Prince of the\nPowers of the Air. They it was, as he had told the Corinthians, that\ncrucified the Lord of glory. But perhaps even they may be saved, for\nthey knew not what they did.\n\nJesus was afraid that Paul's vehemence would carry him on into another\nfit like the one that he had just come out of, and he was glad to meet a\nshepherd, who passed his water-bottle to Paul. Fill thy bottle from\nmine, the shepherd said to Jesus, and there is half-a-loaf of bread in\nmy wallet which I'd like thee to have to share with thy traveller in the\nmorning, else he will not be able to begin the journey again. Nay, do\nnot fear to take it, he said, my wife'll have prepared supper for me.\nJesus took the bread and bade his mate farewell. There is a cave, Paul,\nJesus said, in yonder valley which we can make safe against wolves and\npanthers. Lean on my arm. Thy head is still a trouble; drink a little\nmore water. See, the shepherd has given me half-a-loaf, which we will\nshare in the morning. Come, the cave is not far: in yon valley. Paul\nraised his eyes, and they reasoned with vague, pathetic appeal, for at\nthat moment Jesus was the stronger. Since it must be so, I'll try, he\nsaid, and he tottered, leaning heavily on Jesus for what seemed to him a\nlong way and then stopped. I can go no farther; thou wouldst do well to\nleave me to the hyenas. Go thy way. But Jesus continued to encourage\nhim, saying that the cave in which they were to rest was at the end of\nthe valley, and when Paul asked how many yards distant, he did not\nanswer the exact distance, but halved it, so that Paul might be\nheartened and encouraged, and when the distance mentioned had been\ntraversed and the cave was still far away he bore with Paul's reproaches\nand answered them with kindly voice: we shall soon be there, another few\nsteps will bring us into it, and it isn't a long valley; only a gutter,\nPaul answered, the way the rains have worn through the centuries. A\nstrange desert, the strangest we have seen yet, and I have travelled a\nthousand leagues but never seen one so melancholy. I like better the\ngreat desert. I have lived all my life among these hills, Jesus replied,\nand to my eyes they have lost their melancholy.\n\nAll thy life in these deserts, Paul replied eagerly, and his manner\nsoftened and became almost winning. Thou'lt forgive, he said, any\nabruptness there may have been in my speech, I am speaking differently\nfrom my wont, but to-morrow I shall be in health and able to follow thee\nand to listen with interest to thy tales of shepherding among these\nhills of which thou must know a goodly number. My speech is improving,\nisn't it? answer me. Jesus answered that he understood Paul very well;\nand could tell him many stories of flocks, pillaging by robbers and\nfights between brave Thracian dogs and wolves, and if such stories\ninterested Paul he could relate them. But here is our cave, he said,\npointing to a passage between the rocks. We must go down on our hands\nand knees to enter it; and in answer to Paul, who was anxious to know\nthe depth of the cave, Jesus averred that he only knew the cave through\nhaving once looked into it. The caves we know best are the vast caves\ninto which the shepherd can gather his flocks, trusting to his dogs to\nscent the approach of a wild animal and to awaken him. Go first and I'll\nfollow thee, and Jesus crawled till the rocks opened above him and he\nstood up in what Paul described as a bowel in the mountain; a long cave\nit was, surely, twisting for miles through the darkness, and especially\nevil-smelling, Paul said. Because of the bats, Jesus answered, and\nlooking up they saw the vermin hanging among the clefts, a sort of\nhideous fruit, measuring three feet from wing to wing, Paul muttered,\nand as large as rats. We shall see them drop from their roosts as the\nsky darkens and flit away in search of food, Jesus said. Paul asked what\nfood they could find in the desert, and Jesus answered: we are not many\nmiles from Jericho and these winged rats travel a long way. In Brook\nKerith they are destructive among our figs; we take many in traps. Our\nrule forbids us to take life, but we cannot lose all our figs. I've\noften wondered why we hesitate to light bundles of damp straw in these\ncaves, for that is the way to reduce the multitudes, which are worse\nthan the locusts, for they are eaten; and Jesus told stories of the\nlocust-eating hermits he had known, omitting, however, all mention of\nthe Baptist, so afraid was he lest he might provoke Paul into\ndisputation. See, he said, that great fellow clinging to that ledge, he\nis beginning to be conscious of the sun setting, and a moment after the\nbat flopped away, passing close over their heads into the evening air,\nfollowed soon after by dozens of male and female and many half-grown\nbats that were a few months before on the dug, a stinking colony, that\nthe wayfarers were glad to be rid of. But they'll be in and out the\nwhole night, Jesus said, and I know of no other cave within reach where\nwe can sleep safely. Sometimes the wild cats come after them and then\nthere is much squealing. But think no more of them. I will roll up my\nsheepskin for a pillow for thee, and sleep as well as thou mayest,\ncomrade, for to-morrow's march is a long one.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XXXIX.\n\n\nIt was as Jesus had said, the bats kept coming in and going out all the\nnight through, and their squeakings as they settled themselves to sleep\na little before dawn awakened Paul, who, lifting his head from the\nsheepskin that Jesus had rolled into a comfortable pillow for him, spied\nJesus asleep in a corner, and he began to ask himself if he should\nawaken Jesus or let him sleep a little while longer. But myself, he\nsaid, must escape from the stifle of this cave and the reek of the bats,\nand, dropping on his hands and knees, he crawled into the air.\n\nIt was a great joy to draw the pure air into his lungs, to drink a deep\ndraught, and to look round for a wild cat. One may be lurking, he said,\nimpatient for our departure, and as soon as we go will creep in and\nspring among the roosts and carry off the flopping, squeaking morsel.\nBut if a cat had been there licking her fur, waiting for the tiresome\nwayfarers to depart, she would have remained undiscovered to Paul's\neyes, so thick was the shadow, and it was a long time before the valley\nlengthened out and the rocks reassumed their different shapes.\n\nHe was in a long narrow valley between steep hills, with a path\nzigzagging up the hillside at the farther end, among rocks that set Paul\nthinking of the little that would remain of his sandals before they\nreached C\u00e6sarea.\n\nA long day's march of twelve or thirteen hours lay before him, one that\nhe would have been able to undertake in the old days without a thought\nof failure, but it was over and above his strength to-day. But was it?\nIt seemed to him that he could walk a long way if the present breeze\nthat had come up with the day were to continue. It came up the valley,\ndelicious as spring water, but suddenly he recognised in it the smell of\na wild animal; the sour smell of wolves, he said to himself, and looking\namong the rocks he spied two large wolves not more than fifty yards\ndistant. It is fortunate, he said, that the wind is blowing from them to\nme, else they would have scented me; and Paul watched the lolloping gait\nof the wolves till they were out of sight, and then descending from the\nrock he returned to the cave, thinking he had done wrong to leave it,\nfor he had entrusted himself to Jesus, and perforce to clear his\nconscience had to confide to him he had been out in the valley and seen\ntwo wolves go by. But they did not scent me, the wind being\nunfavourable. If they had, and been hungry, it might have gone hard with\nthee, Jesus said, and then he spoke of Bethennabrio, a village within a\ndozen miles of C\u00e6sarea in which Paul would sleep that night. Thou canst\nnot get to C\u00e6sarea to-night, Jesus affirmed to him, and they resumed\ntheir journey through a country that seemed to grow more arid and\nmelancholy as they advanced.\n\nPaul complained often that he had come by a more direct and a better way\nwith Timothy, but Jesus insisted that the way they were going was not\nmany miles longer than the way Paul had come by. Moreover, the way he\nwas taking was safer to follow. The Jews of Jericho had had many hours\nin which to lay plans for his capture, but Jesus thought that if Paul\nwould believe in him he would be able to get him in safety to the\nvillage of Bethennabrio, where Paul thought he would be safe; the Jews\nwould not dare to arrest a Roman prisoner, one who had been ordered by\nFestus to Italy to receive C\u00e6sar's judgment within a few miles of\nC\u00e6sarea. Thou'lt be within two hours of C\u00e6sarea, Jesus said, and can\nlook forward to seeing your comrade Timothy the next day. Jesus' words\nbrought comfort to Paul's heart and helped him to forget his feet that\nwere beginning to pain him. But a long distance would still have to be\ntraversed, and his eyes wandered over the outlines of the round-backed\nhills divided by steep valleys, so much alike that he asked himself how\nit was that Jesus could distinguish one from the other; but his guide\nseemed to divine the way as by instinct, and Paul struggled on,\nencouraged by a promise of a half-hour's rest as soon as they reached\nthe summit of the hill before them. But no sooner had they reached it\nthan Jesus said, come behind this rock and hide thyself quickly. And\nwhen he was safely hidden Jesus said, now peep over the top and thou'lt\nsee a shepherd leading his sheep along the hillside. What of that? Paul\nanswered, and Jesus said, not much, only I am thinking whether it would\nbe well to let him go his way without putting a question to him, or\nwhether it would be better to leave thee here while I go to him with the\nintention of finding out from him if there be tidings going about that\none Paul of Tarsus, a spreader of great heresies, a pestilential fellow,\na stirrer-up of sedition, has been seen wandering, trying to find his\nway back to C\u00e6sarea.\n\nThe shepherd was passing away over the crest of the hill when Jesus\nsaid, the pretext will come to me on my way to him. Do thou abide here\ntill I return, and Paul watched him running, lurching from side to side\nover the rough ground towards the shepherd, still far away. Will he\novertake him before he passes out of sight and hearing? he asked\nhimself.\n\nThe sheep were running merrily, and the breeze carried down to Paul's\near the sound of the pipe, setting him thinking of the Patriarchs and\nthen of his guide; only mad, he said, in one corner of his brain,\nconvinced that he returned to the Essenes because he had said in\nJerusalem that he was the Messiah. A strange blasphemy, he muttered, and\nyet not strange enough to save the brethren from the infection of it. It\nwould seem that they believe with him that he suffered under Pilate,\nwithout knowing, however, for what crime he was punished; and a terrible\ncuriosity arose in Paul to learn the true story of his guide's life,\nwho, he judged, might be led into telling it if care were taken not to\narouse his suspicion. But these madmen are full of cunning, he said to\nhimself, and when Jesus returned Paul asked if he had discovered from\nthe shepherd if an order was abroad from Jericho to arrest two itinerant\npreachers on their way to C\u00e6sarea. Jesus answered him that he had put no\ndirect question to the shepherd. He had talked to him of the prospect of\nfuture rains, and we were both agreed, Jesus said, that the sky looked\nlike rain, and he told me we should find water in the valley collected\nin pools among the rocks; he mentioned one by a group of fig-trees which\nwe could not miss seeing. Thou art safe, Paul, have no fear for thy safe\narrival at C\u00e6sarea at midday to-morrow. If a search had been ordered to\narrest two wayfarers my shepherd would have heard of it, for it was\nabout here that they would try to intercept us, and we shall do well to\nturn into a path that they will overlook even if they have sent out\nagents in pursuit of thee and Timothy.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XL.\n\n\nBy midday they reached a region more rugged than the one they had come\nout of. The path they followed zigzagged up steep ascents and descended\ninto crumbling valleys and plains filled with split stones, rubble and\nsand, a desert truly, without sign of a living thing till the shadow of\nan eagle's wings passed over the hot stones. Jesus told Paul that the\nbirds nested up among the clefts yonder and were most destructive in the\nspring when the ewes were lambing. Having to feed three or four eaglets,\nhe said, the birds would descend on the flocks, the she-eagle, the\nlarger, stronger and fiercer, will attack and drive off even the dog\nthat does not fear a wolf, yet I have seen, he continued, a timid ewe,\nher youngling behind her in a coign in the hill, face the bird fiercely\nand butt it till she lost her eyes, poor ewe, for I came up too late\nwith my staff. And the lamb? Paul inquired: was far away, Jesus\nanswered, aloft among the eaglets.\n\nJesus had stories of wolves and hyenas to beguile the way with, and he\npointed with his staff to the narrow paths above them up which they\nwould have to climb. But be not discouraged, he said, we shall be in a\nbetter country presently; as soon as we pass the hill yonder we shall\nbegin to descend into the plain, another three leagues beyond yon hill\nwe shall be where we bid each other farewell. Paul answered he was\nleaving Palestine for ever. His way was first to Italy and then to Spain\nand afterwards his life would be over, his mission fulfilled, but he was\nglad to have been to Jericho to have seen the Jordan, the river in which\nJohn had baptized Jesus. He was sorry now when it was too late that he\nhad never been to Galilee, and Jesus told of wooded hills rising gently\nfrom the lake shore, and he took pleasure in relating the town of\nMagdala and the house of Dan of Arimathea, Joseph's father, and the\ngreat industry he had established there; he continued talking, showing\nsuch an intimate and personal knowledge of Galilee that Paul could not\ndoubt that he was what he professed to be, a Nazarene. There were\nhundreds of Nazarenes, many of which were called Jesus: but there was\nonly one Jesus of Nazareth. He did not say this to Jesus; but after\nJesus had asked him how it was that he who had travelled the world over\nhad never turned into Galilee, he replied that the human life of Jesus\nin Galilee concerned him not at all and his teaching very little. He\ntaught all the virtues, but these were known to humanity from the\nbeginning; they are in the law that God revealed to Moses. Even pagans\nknow of them. The Greeks have expounded them excellently well. A teacher\nJesus was and a great teacher, but far more important was the fact that\nGod had raised him from the dead, thereby placing him above all the\nprophets and near to God himself. So I have always taught that if Jesus\nwere not raised from the dead our teaching is vain. A miracle, he said,\nand he looked into Jesus' face just as if he suspected him to be\nthinking that something more than a miracle was needed to convince the\nworld of the truth of Paul's doctrine. A miracle, to the truth of which\nmore than five hundred have already testified. First he appeared to Mary\nand Martha, afterwards to Cleophas and Khuza. On the way to Emmaus he\nstayed and supped with them and afterwards he appeared to the twelve.\nHast met all the twelve and consulted with them? Jesus asked, and Paul,\na little irritated by the interruption, answered that he had seen Peter\nand John and James and Philip but he knew not the others; and, of\ncourse, James, the brother of the Lord. Tell me about him, Jesus\nanswered. He admits Jesus as a prophet among the others but no more, and\nobserves the law more strictly than any other Jew, a narrow-minded bigot\nthat has opposed my teaching as bitterly as the priests themselves. It\nwas he who, Paul began, but Jesus interrupted and asked about Peter.\nWhere was he? And what doctrine is he preaching? Paul answered that\nPeter was at Antioch, though why he should choose to live there has\nalways seemed strange to me, for he does not speak Greek. But what trade\ndoes he follow? Jesus asked. There are marshes and lakes about Antioch,\nPaul replied, and these are well stocked with fish, of a quality\ninferior, however, to those he used to catch in the lake of Gennesaret,\nbut still fish for which there is some sale. He and John own some boats\nand they ply up and down the marshes, and draw up a living in their\nnets, a poor and uncertain living I believe it to be, for they are often\nabout telling stories to the faithful of our Lord Jesus Christ, who pay\nthem for their recitals. One is always with them, a woman called Rachel.\nIt is said that she poisoned a rival at a wedding, a girl called Ruth\nwhom Jesus raised from the dead. Ruth went to her husband, but Rachel\nfollowed Jesus of Nazareth.... Thou'rt a Galilean, Paul said, and know\nthese stories better than I.\n\nAs they walked on together, Paul's thoughts returned to the miracle of\nhis apostleship, received, he said, by me from Jesus Christ our Lord\nhimself on the road to Damascus. Thy brethren have doubtless related the\nstory to thee how in my journey from Jerusalem to Damascus, full of\nwrath to kill and to punish the saints, I was blinded by a great light\nfrom the skies, and out of a cloud Jesus Christ our Lord spoke to me:\nPaul! Paul! he cried, why persecutest thou me? Ever since I have\npreached that there is but one Mediator between God and man--Christ\nJesus our Lord, and if I ran out whilst thou wast telling thy story,\ncrying, he is mad, he is mad! it was because it seemed to me that thou\nwert speaking by order of the Jews who would ensnare and entrap me or\nfor some other reason. None may divine men's desire of soul, unless an\nevil spirit has descended into thee I may not divine any reason for thy\nstory. There is some mistake that none would regret more than thou, for\nthou wouldst hear the truth from me this day, thereby gaining\neverlasting life. Why dost thou not answer me, Jesus? Because thou'rt\nwaiting to hear from me the words that our Lord Jesus Christ spoke to\nme? My brethren have told it to me, Jesus answered. And thou believest\nit not? Paul cried. I believe, Jesus answered, that the Jesus that spake\nto thee out of a cloud never lived in the flesh; he was a Lord Jesus\nChrist of thy own imagining, and I believe, too, that if we had met in\nGalilee thou wouldst not have heeded me, and thou wouldst have done\nwell, for in Galilee I was but a seeker; go thou and seek and be not\nalways satisfied with what first comes to thy hand.\n\nThese words provoked a great rage in Paul, and believing Jesus to be an\nevil spirit come to tempt him, he turned fiercely upon him, threatening\nhim with his staff, bidding him begone. But as he could not desert Paul\nin the wilderness Jesus dropped behind him and directed Paul's journey,\nbidding him tread here and not there, to avoid the hill in front of him,\nand to keep along the valley.\n\nIn this way they proceeded for about another hour, and then Jesus cried\nout to Paul: yonder are the fig-trees where the shepherd told me to look\nfor a pool among the rocks after the late rains. Art overcome, Paul,\nwith the long march and the heat? Rest. Let me untie thy sandals. Alas!\nthey are worn through and will scarce carry thee into Bethennabrio. But\nthey must carry me thither, Paul answered, and if there be water in the\npool after we have drunken and filled our water-bottle I'll loose the\nthongs and bathe my feet.\n\nThe season was advanced, but there were still leaves on the fig-trees,\nand among the rocks some water had collected, and having drunk and\nfilled the water-bottle, Jesus loosed the thongs of Paul's sandals and\nbound his feet with some bandages torn from his own clothing. He broke\nthe bread that the passing shepherd had given him, but Paul could eat\nvery little so overcome was he with fatigue. I shall try to eat after I\nhave slept a little, and having made his head comfortable with his\nsheepskin, Jesus watched him doze away.\n\nSoon after the warm rocks brought sleep to Jesus' eyes, and he fell\nasleep trying to remember that he had nothing more explicit to rely upon\nthan his own declaration (where should it be made, in the streets to the\npeople or in the Sanhedrin to the priests?) that he was Jesus of\nNazareth whom Pilate condemned to the cross, only his own words to\nconvince the priests and the people that he was not a shepherd whom the\nloneliness of the hills had robbed of his senses. He could not bring the\nEssenes as testimony, nor could they if they came vouch for the whole\ntruth of his story.\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XLI.\n\n\nHast slept well, Paul, and hath sleep refreshed thee and given thee\nstrength to pursue thy journey? Paul answered that he was very weary,\nbut however weary must struggle on to C\u00e6sarea. Thy strength wilt not\nsuffer thee to get farther than Bethennabrio, and to reach Bethennabrio\nI must make thy sandals comfortable, Jesus answered, and on these words\nhe knelt and succeeded in arranging the thongs so that Paul walked\nwithout pain.\n\nThey walked without speaking, Paul afraid lest some chance word of his\nmight awaken Jesus' madness, and Jesus forgetful of Paul, his mind now\nset on Jerusalem, whither he was going as soon as Paul was safely out of\nthe way of the Jews. Each shut himself within the circle of his own\nmind, and the silence was not broken till Paul began to fear that Jesus\nwas plotting against him, and to distract Jesus' mind from his plots, if\nhe were weaving any, he ventured to compare the country they were\npassing through with Galilee, and forthwith Jesus began to talk to Paul\nof Peter and John and James, sons of Zebedee, mentioning their\nappearances, voices, manner of speech, relating their boats, their\nfishing tackle, the fish-salting factory at Magdala, Dan, and Joseph his\nson. He spoke volubly, genially, a winning relation it was of the\nfishing life round the lake, without mention of miracles, for it was not\nto his purpose to convince Paul of any spiritual power he may have\nenjoyed, but rather of his own simple humanity. And Paul listened to all\nhis narratives complacently, still believing his guide to be a madman.\nIf thou hadst not run away crying, he is mad, he is mad! thou wouldst\nhave heard how my crucifixion was brought about; how my eyes opened in\nthe tomb and---- Interrupting Jesus, Paul hastened to assure him that if\nhe cried out, he is mad, he is mad, he had spoken the words unwittingly,\nthey were put into his mouth by the sickness in which Jesus had\ndiscovered him. And the sickness, he admitted, might have been brought\nabout by the shock of hearing thee speak of thyself as the Messiah. But,\nPaul, I did not speak of myself as the Messiah, but as an Essene who\nduring some frenzied months believed himself to be the Messiah. But,\nshepherd, Paul answered, the Messiah promised to the Jews was Jesus of\nNazareth, who was raised by his Father from the dead, and thou sayest\nthat thou art the same. If thou didst once believe thyself to be the\nMessiah thou hast repented thy blasphemy. Let us talk no more about the\nMessiah. In the desert these twenty years, Jesus answered. But not till\nnow did I know my folly had borne fruit. Nor do I know now if Joseph\nknew that a story had been set going. It may be that the story was not\nset going till after his death. Now it seems too late to go into the\nfield thou hast sown with tares instead of corn. To which Paul answered:\nit is my knowledge of thy seclusion among rocks that prompts me to\nlisten to thee. The field I have sown like every other field has some\ntares in it, but it is full of corn ripening fast which will be ready\nfor the reaping when it shall please the Lord to descend with his own\nson, Jesus of Nazareth, from the skies. As soon as the words Jesus of\nNazareth had left his lips Paul regretted them, for he did not doubt\nthat he was speaking to a madman whose name, no doubt, was Jesus, and\nwho had come from Nazareth, and having got some inkling of the true\nstory of the resurrection had little by little conceived himself to be\nhe who had died that all might be saved; and upon a sudden resolve not\nto utter another word that might offend the madman's beliefs, he began\nto tell that he had brought hope to the beggar, the outcast, to the\nslave; though this world was but a den of misery to them, another world\nwas coming to which they might look forward in full surety; and many, he\nsaid, that led vile lives are now God-fearing men and women who, when\nthe daily work is done, go forth in the evening to beseech the multitude\nto give some time to God.\n\nIn every field there are tares, but there are fewer in my field than in\nany other, and that I hold to be the truth; and seeing that Jesus was\nlistening to his story he began to relate his theology, perplexing Jesus\nwith his doctrines, but interesting him with the glad tidings that the\nburden of the law had been lifted from all. If he had stopped there all\nwould have been well, so it seemed to Jesus, whose present mind was not\nable to grasp why a miracle should be necessary to prove to men that the\nlove of God was in the heart rather than in observances, and the miracle\nthat Paul continued to relate with so much unction seemed to him so\ncrude; yet he once believed that God was pleased to send his only\nbegotten son to redeem the world by his death on a cross. A strange\nconception truly. And while he was thinking these things Paul fell to\ntelling his dogma concerning predestination, and he was anxious that\nJesus should digest his reply to Mathias, who had said that\npredestination conflicted with the doctrine of salvation for all. But\nJesus, who was of Mathias' opinion, refrained from expressing himself\ndefinitely on the point, preferring to forget Paul, so that he might\nbetter consider if he would be able to make plain to Paul that miracles\nbring no real knowledge of God to man, and that our conscience is the\nsource of our knowledge of God and that perhaps a providence nourishes\nbeyond the world.\n\nMeanwhile Paul continued his discourse, till, becoming suddenly aware\nthat Jesus' thoughts were far away, he stopped speaking; the silence\nawoke Jesus from his meditation, and he began to compare Paul's\nstrenuous and restless life with his own, asking himself if he envied\nthis man who had laboured so fiercely and meditated so little. And Paul,\ndivining in a measure the thoughts that were passing in Jesus' mind,\nbegan to speak to Jesus of our life in the flesh and its value. For is\nit not true, he asked, that it is in our fleshly life we earn our\nimmortal life? But, Paul, Jesus said, it seems unworthy to love virtue\nto gain heaven. Is it not better to love virtue for its own sake? I have\nheard that question many times, Paul answered, and believe those that\nask it to be of little faith; were I not sure that our Lord Jesus Christ\ndied, and was raised by his Father from the dead, I should turn to the\npleasures of this world, though there is but little taste in me for\nthem, only that little which all men suffer, and I have begged God to\nredeem me from it, but he answered: my grace suffices.\n\nA great pity for Paul took possession of Jesus, and seeking to gain him,\nJesus spoke of the Essenes and their life, and the advantage it would be\nto him to return to the Brook Kerith. Among the brethren thou'lt seek\nand find thyself, and every man, he continued, is behoven sooner or\nlater to seek himself; and thyself, Paul, if I read thee rightly, hath\nalways been overlooked by thee, which is a fault. So thou thinkest,\nJesus, that I have always overlooked myself? But which self? For there\nhave been many selves in me. A Pharisee that went forth from Jerusalem\nwith letters from the chief priests to persecute the saints in Damascus.\nThe self that has begun to wish that life were over so that I may be\nbrought to Christ, never to be separated again from him. Or the self\nthat lies beyond my reason, that would hold me accursed from Christ, if\nthereby I might bring the whole world to Christ in exchange: which self\nof those three wouldst thou have me seek and discover in the Brook\nKerith? He waited a little while for Jesus to answer, then he answered\nhis own question: my work is my conscience made manifest, and my soul is\nin the Lord Jesus Christ that was crucified and raised from the dead by\nhis Father. He lives in me, and it is by his power that I live.\n\nThe men stopped and looked into each other's eyes, and it seemed to them\nthat no two men were so irreparably divided. Thou must bear with me,\nPaul, Jesus said, a little while longer, till we reach a certain\nhillside, distant about an hour's journey from this valley. I must see\nthee to a place of safety, and the thoughts in my mind I will consider\nwhile we strive up these sand-hills. Now if thy sandals hurt thee tell\nme and I will arrange the thongs differently. Paul answered that they\nwere easy to wear, and they toiled up the dunes in silence, Paul\nthinking how he might persuade this madman to return to his cenoby and\nleave the world to him.\n\nThere are some, he said, as they came out of a valley, that think the\ntime is long deferred before the Lord will come. Thou'rt Jesus of\nNazareth, I deny it not, but the Jesus of Nazareth that I preach is of\nthe spirit and not of the flesh, and it was the spirit and not the flesh\nthat was raised from the dead. Thy doctrine that man's own soul is his\nwhole concern is well enough for the philosophers of Egypt and Greece,\nbut we who know the judgment to be near, and that there is salvation for\nall, must hasten with the glad tidings. Wilt tell me, Paul, of what\nvalue would thy teaching be if Jesus did not die on the cross? Many\ntimes and in many places I have said my teaching would be as naught if\nour Lord Jesus had not died, Paul answered. Are not my hands and feet\ntestimony, Paul, that I speak the truth? Look unto them. Pilate put many\nbeside thee on the cross, Paul replied, and, as I have told thee, my\nChrist is not of this world. If he be not of this world, is he God or\nangel? Jesus asked, and Paul said: neither, but God's own son, chosen by\nGod from the beginning to redeem the world, not the Jews only, but all\nmen, Gentiles and Jews alike. Thou hast asked me to look into thy hands\nand feet, but what testimony may be a few ancient scars to me that heard\nour Lord Jesus Christ speak out of the clouds? Thou wast not in the\ncenoby when I told my story, hoping thereby to get a dozen apostles to\naccompany me to Spain, a wide and difficult country I'm told, a dozen\nwould not be too many; but thou wast not there to hear what befell me on\nthe road to Damascus, whither I was going to persecute the saints; and\nagain a great pity for Paul took possession of Jesus as he listened to\nthe story. Were I to persuade him that there was no miracle, his mind\nwould snap, Jesus said to himself, and he figured Paul wandering\ndemented through the hills.\n\nAnd when Paul came to the end of his story he seemed to have forgotten\nthe man walking by his side. He is rapt, Jesus said to himself, in the\nJesus of his imagination. And when they had walked for another hour\nJesus said: seest the ridge of hills over yonder? There we shall find\nthe village, two hours' march from C\u00e6sarea. The sea rises up in front of\nthee and a long meandering road will lead thee into C\u00e6sarea. At yonder\nridge of hills we part. And whither goest thou? Paul asked. Returnest\nthou to the Brook Kerith? I know not whither I go, but a great seeming\nis in my heart that it will not be to the Brook Kerith nor to Jerusalem.\nTo Jerusalem? Paul repeated. What persuasion or what desire would bring\nthee to that accursed city of men more stubborn than all others? I left\nthe Brook Kerith, Paul, after listening to Hazael for a long while; he\nsought to dissuade me against Jerusalem, but I resisted his counsel,\nsaying that now I knew thee to be preaching the resurrection of Jesus of\nNazareth from the dead, thereby leading the people astray, I must return\nto Jerusalem to tell the priest that he whom they believed to be raised\nfrom the dead still lived in the flesh. However mad thou beest, the\npriests will welcome thy story and for it may glorify thee or belike put\nthee on the cross again. But this is sure that emissaries will be sent\nto Italy and Spain, who will turn the people's mind from the truth; and\nthe testimony of the twelve that saw Jesus and of the five hundred that\nsaw him afterwards will be as naught; and the Jews will scoff at me,\nsaying: he whom thou declarest was raised from the dead lives; and the\nGentiles will scoff and say: we will listen to thee, Paul, another day;\nand the world will fall back into idolatry, led back into it by the\ndelusions of a madman. The word of God is a weak thing, Paul, Jesus\nanswered, if it cannot withstand and overcome the delusions of a madman,\nand God himself a derision, for he will have sent his son to die on the\ncross in vain. Of the value of the testimony of the twelve I am the\nbetter judge. Then thou goest to Jerusalem, Paul asked, to confute me?\nNo, Paul, I shall not return to Jerusalem. Because, Paul interrupted,\nthou wouldst not see the world fall back into idolatry? Thou art a good\nman despite---- Despite my delusions, Jesus said, interrupting Paul. So\nthou'rt afraid the world will fall back into idolatry?--yet Jesus of\nNazareth has been proclaimed by thee as the Messiah, a man above\nmankind. A spiritual being, higher than the angels, therefore, in a way,\npart and parcel of the Godhead though not yet equal to God. Thinkest,\nPaul, that those that come after thee will not pick up the Messiah where\nthou hast left him and carry him still further into deity?\n\nIt is not fear of idolatry, Paul, that turns me from Jerusalem. The\nworld will always be idolatrous in some sort of fashion. Bear that well\nin mind whither thou goest. The world cannot be else than the world.\n\nLet us sit here, Paul answered, for I would hear thee under this rock in\nfront of this sea; thou shalt tell me how thou earnest into these\nthoughts. Thou, a shepherd among the Judean hills. Jesus answered him:\nthe things that I taught in Galilee were not vain, but I only knew part\nof the truth, that which thou knowest, that sacrifices and observances\nare vain; and when I went to Jerusalem the infamy of the Temple and its\npriests became clear to me, and I yielded to anger, for I was possessed\nof a great desire to save the people. The Scribes and Pharisees\nconspired against me, and I was brought before the High Priest, who rent\nhis garments. We have but little time to spend together, and rather than\nthat story I would hear thee tell of the thoughts that came to thee\nwhilst thou didst lead thy flocks over the hills.\n\nFor many years, Paul, there were no thoughts in my mind, or they were\nkept back, for I was without a belief; but thought returned to my\ndesolate mind as the spring returns to these hills; and the next step in\nmy advancement was when I began to understand that we may not think of\nGod as a man who would punish men for doing things they have never\npromised not to do, or recompense them for abstinence from things they\nnever promised to abstain from. Soon after I began to comprehend that\nthe beliefs of our forefathers must be abandoned, and that if we would\narrive at any reasonable conception of God, we must not put a stint upon\nhim. And as I wandered with my sheep he became in my senses not without\nbut within the universe, part and parcel, not only of the stars and the\nearth, but of me, yea, even of my sheep on the hillside. All things are\nGod, Paul: thou art God and I am God, but if I were to say thou art man\nand I am God, I should be the madman that thou believest me to be. That\nwas the second step in my advancement; and the third step, Paul, in my\nadvancement was the knowledge that God did not design us to know him but\nthrough our consciousness of good and evil, only thus far may we know\nhim. So thou seest, Paul, he has not written the utmost stint of his\npower upon us, and this being so, Paul--and who shall say that it is not\nso--it came to me to understand that all striving was vain, and worse\nthan vain. The pursuit of a corruptible crown as well as the pursuit of\nan incorruptible crown leads us to sin. If we would reach the sinless\nstate we must relinquish pursuit. What I mean is this, that he who seeks\nthe incorruptible crown starts out with words of love on his lips to\npersuade men to love God, and finding that men do not heed him he begins\nto hate them, and hate leads on into persecution. Such is the end of all\nworship. There is but one thing, Paul, to learn to live for ourselves,\nand to suffer our fellows to do likewise; all learning comes out of\nourselves, and no one may communicate his thought; for his thought was\ngiven to him for himself alone. Thou art where I was once, thou hast\nlearnt that sacrifices and observances are vain, that God is in our\nheart; and it may be that in years to come thy knowledge will be\nextended, or it may be that thou hast reached the end of thy tether: we\nare all at tether, Paul.\n\nWouldst thou have me learn, Jesus, that God is to be put aside? Again,\nPaul, thou showest me the vanity of words. God forbid that I should say\nbanish God from thy hearts. God cannot be banished, for God is in us.\nAll things proceed from God; all things end in God; God like all the\nrest is a possession of the mind. He who would be clean must be obedient\nto God. God has not designed us to know him except through our\nconscience. Each man's conscience is a glimpse. These are some of the\nthings that I have learnt, Paul, in the wilderness during the last\ntwenty years. But seek not to understand me. Thou canst not understand\nme and be thyself; but, Paul, I can comprehend thee, for once I was\nthou. Whither goest thou? Paul cried, looking back. But Jesus made no\nanswer, and Paul, with a flutter of exaltation in his heart, turned\ntowards C\u00e6sarea, knowing now for certain that Jesus would not go to\nJerusalem to provoke the Jews against him. Italy would therefore hear of\nthe life and death of our Lord Jesus Christ that had brought salvation\nfor all, and Spain afterwards. Spain, Spain, Spain! he repeated as he\nwalked, filled with visions of salvation. He walked with Spain vaguely\nin his mind till his reverie was broken by the sound of voices, and he\nsaw people suddenly in a strange garb going towards the hillside on\nwhich he had left Jesus; neither Jews nor Greeks were they, and on\nturning to a shepherd standing by he heard that the strangely garbed\npeople were monks from India, and they are telling the people, the\nshepherd said, that they must not believe that they have souls, and that\nthey know that they are saved. What can be saved but the spirit? Paul\ncried, and he asked the shepherd how far he was from the village of\nBethennabrio. Not more than half-an-hour, the shepherd answered, and it\nwas upon coming into sight of the village that Paul began to trace a\nlikeness between the doctrines that Jesus had confided to him and the\nshepherd's story of the doctrines that were being preached by the monks\nfrom India. His thoughts were interrupted by the necessity of asking the\nfirst passenger coming from the village to direct him to the inn, and it\nwas good tidings to hear that there was one.\n\nHowever meagre the food might be, it would be enough, he answered, and\nwhile he sat at supper he remembered Jesus again, and while thinking of\nhis doctrines and the likeness they bore to those the Indians were\npreaching, some words of Jesus returned to him. He had said that he did\nnot think he was going back to the Brook Kerith, and it may well be,\nPaul muttered, that in saying those words he was a prophet without\nknowing it. The monks from India will meet him in the valley, and if\nthey speak to him they will soon gather from him that he divined much of\ntheir philosophy while watching his flock, and finding him to be of\ntheir mind they may ask him to return to India with them and he will\npreach there.\n\nSleep began to gather in Paul's eyes and he was soon dozing, thinking in\nhis doze how pleasant it was to lie in a room with no bats above him. A\nremembrance of the smell kept him awake, but his fatigue was so great\nthat his sleep grew deeper and deeper and many hours passed over, and\nthe people in the inn thought that Paul would never wake again. But this\nlong sleep did not redeem him from the fatigue of his journeys. He could\nnot set out again till late in the afternoon, and it was evening when he\npassed over the last ridge of hills and saw the yellow sands of C\u00e6sarea\nbefore him. The sky was grey, and the rain that Jesus had foreseen was\nbeginning to fall, and it was through shades of evening that he saw the\ngreat mole covered with buildings stretching far into the sea. Timothy\nwill be waiting for me at the gate if he has not fallen over a\nprecipice, he said, and a few minutes after he caught sight of Timothy\nwaiting for him. Paul opened his arms to him. Thoughtest that I was lost\nto thee for ever, Timothy? God whispered in my ears, Timothy answered,\nthat he would bring thee back safely, and the ship is already in offing.\nIt would be well to go on board now, for at daybreak we weigh anchor.\nThou'lt sleep better on board. And Paul, who was too weary even to\nanswer, allowed himself to be led. And, too weary to sleep, he lay\nwaking often out of shallow sleeps. He could hear Timothy breathing by\nhis side, and when he raised his eyes he saw the stars that were to\nguide them along the coasts; but the beauty of the stars could not blot\nout of his mind the shepherd's face: and Paul's thoughts murmured, he\nwho believed himself the Messiah and still thinks he is Jesus of\nNazareth which was raised by his Father from the dead. Yet without his\nhelp I should not have reached C\u00e6sarea. It then seemed to Paul that the\nshepherd was an angel in disguise sent to his aid, or a madman. A madman\nwith a strange light in his eyes, he continued, and fell to thinking if\nthe voice that spoke out of the cloud bore any likeness to the voice\nthat had compelled his attention for so long a term on the hillside. But\na bodily voice, he said, cannot resemble a spiritual voice, and it is\nenough that the Lord Jesus spoke to me, and that his voice has abided in\nme and become my voice. It is his voice that is now calling me to Rome,\nand it is his voice that I shall hear when my life is over, saying:\nPaul, I have long waited for thee; come unto me, faithful servant, and\nreceive in me thy gain and the fruit of all thy labour. He repeated the\nwords so loudly that Timothy awoke, and at the sight of the young man's\nface the present sank out of sight and he was again in Lystra, and on\nlooking into the young man's eyes he knew that Timothy would remind him\nalways of the woman in Lystra whom he would never see again. Of what art\nthou thinking, Paul? The voice seemed to come from the ends of the\nearth, but it came from Timothy's lips. Of Lystra, Timothy, that we\nshall never see again nor any of the people we have ever known. We are\nleaving our country and our kindred. But remember, Timothy, that it is\nGod that calls thee Homeward. And they sat talking in the soft starlight\nof what had befallen them when they separated in the darkness. Timothy\ntold that he remembered the way he had come by sufficiently not to fall\nfar out of it, and that at daybreak he had met shepherds who had\ndirected him. He had walked and he had rested and in that way managed to\nreach C\u00e6sarea the following evening. A long journey on foot, but a poor\nadventure. But thou hast been away three days, three days and three\nnights.... How earnest thou hither? Thy eyes are full of story. A fair\nadventure, Timothy, and he related his visit to the Essenes and their\ndwelling among the cliffs above the Brook Kerith. A fair adventure\ntruly, Timothy. Would I'd been with thee to have seen and heard them.\nWould indeed that we had not been separated---- He was about to tell the\nshepherd's story but was stopped by some power within himself. But how\ndidst thou come hither? Timothy asked again, and Paul answered, the\nEssenes sent their shepherd with me. Timothy begged Paul to tell him\nmore about the Essenes, but the sailors begged them to cease talking,\nand next day the ship touched at Sidon, and Julius, in whose charge Paul\nhad been placed, gave him the liberty to go unto his friends and to\nrefresh himself.\n\nThe sea of Cilicia was beautifully calm, and they sailed on, hearing all\nthe sailors, who were Greek, telling their country's legends of the wars\nof Troy, and of Venus whose great temple was in Cyprus. After passing\nCyprus they came to Myra, a city of Cilicia, and were fortunate enough\nto find a ship there bound for Alexandria, sailing from thence to Italy.\nJulius put them all on board it; but the wind was unfavourable, and as\nsoon as they came within sight of the Cnidus the wind blew against them\nand they sailed to Crete and by Salome till they came to a coast known\nas the Fair Havens by the city of Lasea, where much time was spent to\nthe great danger of the ship, and also to the lives of the passengers\nand the crew as Paul fully warned them, the season, he said, being too\nadvanced for them to expect fair sailings. I have fared much by land and\nsea, he said, and know the danger and perils of this season. He was not\nlistened to, but the Haven being not safe in winter they loosed for\nPhoenice; and the wind blew softly, and they mocked Paul, but not long,\nfor a dangerous wind arose known as euroclydon, against which the ship\ncould not bear up, and so the crew let her drive before it till in great\nfear of quicksands they unloaded the ship of some cargo. And next day,\nthe wind rising still higher, they threw overboard all they could lay\nhands upon, and for several days and nights the wrack was so thick and\nblack overhead that they were driven on and on through unknown wastes of\nwater, Paul exhorting all to be of good cheer, for an angel of God had\nexhorted him that night, telling that none should drown.\n\nAnd when the fourteenth day was spent it seemed to the sailors that they\nwere close upon land. Upon sounding they found fifteen fathoms, and\nafraid they were upon rocks, they cast out anchors. But the anchors did\nnot hold, and the danger of drowning became so great as the night\nadvanced that the sailors would have launched a boat, but Paul besought\nthem to remain upon the ship; and when it was day they discovered a\ncertain creek in which they thought they might beach the ship, which\nthey did, and none too soon, for the ship began to break to pieces soon\nafter. But shall our prisoners be supposed to swim ashore? the soldiers\nasked, and they would have killed the prisoners, but the centurion\nrestrained them, for he was minded to save Paul's life, and all reached\nthe shore either by swimming or clinging to wreckage which the waves\ncast up upon the shore.\n\nThey were then upon the island of Melita, where Paul was mistaken for a\nmurderer because a viper springing out of a bundle of sticks fastened on\nhis hand. But he shook off the beast into the fire and felt no harm, and\nthe barbarians waited for him to swell and fall down suddenly, but when\nhe showed no sign of sickness they mistook him for a god, and in fear\nthat they would offer sacrifices in his honour, as the priests of Lystra\nwished to do when he bade the cripple stand straight upon his feet, he\ntold them that he was a man like themselves; he consented, however, that\nthey should bring him to Publius, the chief man of the island, who lay\nsick with fever and a flux of blood, and he rose up healed as soon as\nPaul imposed his hand upon him. And many other people coming, all of\nwhom were healed, the barbarians brought him presents.\n\nAfter three months' stay they went on board a ship from Alexandria,\nwhose sign was Castor and Pollux, and a fair wind took them to Syracuse,\nwhere they tarried three days; a south wind arose at Rhegium and carried\nthem next into Puteoli, where Paul found the brethren, who begged the\ncenturion Julius to allow him to remain with them for a few days, and on\naccount of his great friendship and admiration of Paul he allowed him to\ntarry for seven days.\n\nFrom Puteoli Paul and Timothy and Aristarchus went forward towards Rome\nwith the centurion, and the news of their journey having preceded them\nthe brethren came to meet them as far as The Three Taverns.... With\ngreat rejoicing they all went on to Rome together, and when they arrived\nin Rome the centurion delivered the prisoners to the Captain of the\nGuard, but Paul was permitted to live by himself with a soldier on guard\nover him, and he enjoyed the right to see whom he pleased and to teach\nhis doctrine, which he did, calling as soon as he was rested the chiefs\nof the Jews together, and when they were come together he related to\nthem the story of the persecutions he had endured from the Jews from the\nbeginning, and that he had appealed to C\u00e6sar in order to escape from\nthem. He expounded and testified the Kingdom of God, persuading them on\nall matters concerning Jesus, his birth, his death and his resurrection,\nenjoining them to look into the Scriptures and to accept the\ntestification of five hundred, many of whom were still alive, while some\nwere sleeping. He spoke from morning to evening.\n\nThe rest of his story is unknown.","title":"The Brook Kerith: A Syrian story","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":171153}