by George Moore
To the end of his life Joseph kept in his memory the moment when he sat in the corner of the hall, his eyes fixed upon Mathias’s young and beautiful profile, clear cut, hard and decisive as the profiles of the young gods that decorated the Greek coins which shocked him in Cæsarea. His memory of Mathias was as partial; but he knew the president’s full face, and while pondering on it he remembered that he had never seen him in profile. Nor was this all that set the two men apart in Joseph’s consciousness. The prior’s simple and homely language came from the heart, entered the heart and was remembered, whereas Mathias spoke from his brain. The heart is simple and always the same, but the brain is complex and various; and therefore it was natural that Mathias should hold, as if in fee, a great store of verbal felicities, and that he should translate all shades of thought at once into words.
His mind moved in a rich, erudite and complex syntax that turned all opposition into admiration. Even the president, who had been listening to theology all his life and had much business to attend to, must fain neglect some of it for the pleasure of listening to Mathias when he lectured. Even Saddoc, the most orthodox Jew in the cenoby, Mathias could keep as it were chained to his seat. He resented and spurned the allegory, but the beautiful voice that brought out sentence after sentence, like silk from off a spool, enticed his thoughts away from it. The language used in the cenoby was Aramaic, and never did Joseph hear that language spoken so beautifully. It seemed to him that he was listening to a new language and on leaving the hall he told Mathias that it had seemed to him that he was listening to Aramaic for the first time. Mathias answered him — blushing a little, Joseph thought — that he hoped one of these days, in Egypt perhaps, if Joseph ever went there, to lecture to him in Greek. He liked Aramaic for other purposes, but for philosophy there was but one language. But you speak Greek and are now teaching Greek, so let us speak it when we are together, Mathias said, and if I detect any incorrectness I will warn you against it.
That Mathias should choose to speak to him in Greek was flattering indeed, and Joseph, who had not spoken Greek for many months, began to prattle, but he had not said many words before Mathias interrupted him and said: you must have learnt Greek very young. This remark turned the talk on to Azariah; and Mathias listened to Joseph’s account of his tutor carelessly, interrupting him when he had heard enough with a remark anent the advancement of the spring, to which Joseph did not know how to reply, so suddenly had his thoughts been jerked away from the subject he was pursuing. You have the full Jewish mind, Mathias continued; interested in moral ideas rather than beauty: without eyes for the village. True that you see it in winter plight, but in the near season all the fields will be verdant and the lintels running over with flowers. He waited for Joseph to defend himself, but Joseph did not know for certain that Mathias was not right — perhaps he was more interested in moral ideas than in beauty. However this might be, he began to experience an aversion, and might have taken leave of Mathias if they had not come upon the president. He stopped to speak to them; and having congratulated Mathias on having fortuned at last on an efficient teacher of Hebrew and Greek, and addressed a few kindly words directly to Joseph and taken his hand in his, the head of the community bade them both good-bye, saying that important business needed his presence. He sped away on his business, but he seemed to leave something of himself behind, and even Mathias was perforce distracted from his search of a philosophic point of view and indulged himself in the luxury of a simple remark. His goodness, he said, is so natural, like the air we breathe and the bread we eat, and that is why we all love him, and why all dissension vanishes at the approach of our president; a remarkable man.
The most wonderful I have ever seen, Joseph answered: a remark that did not altogether please Mathias, for he added: his power is in himself, for he is altogether without philosophy.
Joseph was moved to ask Mathias if the charm that himself experienced was not an entire absence of philosophy. But he did not dare to rouse Mathias, whom he feared, and his curiosity overcame his sense of loyalty to the president. If he were to take his leave abruptly, he would have to return alone to the village to seek the four proselytes, but their companionship did not attract him, and he found himself at that moment unable to deny himself the pleasure of the sweet refreshing evening air, which as they approached the river seemed to grow sweeter. The river itself was more attractive than he had yet seen it, and there was that sadness upon it which we notice when a rainy day passes into a fine evening. The clouds were rolling on like a battle — pennants flying in splendid array, leaving the last row of hills outlined against a clear space of sky; and, with his eyes fixed on the cliffs over against the coasts of the lake, Mathias let his thoughts run after his favourite abstractions: the relation of God to time and place. As he dreamed his metaphysics, he answered Joseph’s questions from time to time, manifesting, however, so little interest in them that at last Joseph felt he could bear it no longer, and resolved to leave him. But just as he was about to bid him good-bye, Mathias said that the Essenes were pious Jews who were content with mere piety, but mere piety was not enough: God had given to man a mind, and therefore desired man to meditate, not on his own nature — which was trivial and passing — but on God’s nature, which was important and eternal.
This remark revealed a new scope for inquiry to Joseph, who was interested in the Essenes; but his search was for miracles and prophets rather than ideas, and if he tarried among the Essenes it was because he had come upon two great men. He fell to considering the question afresh, and — forgetful of Mathias’s admonitions that the business of man is to meditate on the nature of God — he said: the Essenes perform no miracles and do not prophesy; — an interruption to Mathias’s loquacity which the other took with a better grace than Joseph had expected — for no one ever dared before to interrupt Mathias. Joseph had done so accidentally and expected a very fine reproof, but Mathias checked his indignation and told Joseph that Manahem, an Essene, had foreknowledge of future events given to him by God: for when he was a child and going to school, Manahem saw Herod and saluted him as king of the Jews; and Herod, thinking the boy was in jest or did not know him, told him he was but a private citizen; whereat Manahem smiled to himself, and clapping Herod on the backside with his hand said: thou wilt be king and wilt begin thy reign happily, for God finds thee worthy. And then, as if enough was said on this subject, Mathias began to diverge from it, mixing up the story with many admonitions and philosophical reflections, very wise and salutary, but not what Joseph cared to hear at that moment. He was in no wise interested at that moment to hear that he had done well in testing all the different sects of the Jews, and though the Essenes were certainly the most learned, they did not possess the whole truth. With a determination that was impossible to oppose, Mathias said: the whole truth is not to be found, even among the Essenes, and, my good friend, I would not encourage in you a hope that you may be permitted ever during your mortal life to discover the whole truth. It exists not in any created thing: but glimpses of the light are often detected, now here, now there, shining through a clouded vase. But the simile, he added, of the clouded vase gives rise to the thought that the light resides within the vase: the very contrary of which is the case. For there is no light in the vase itself: the light shines from beyond the skies, and I should therefore have compared man to a crystal itself that catches the light so well that it seems to our eyes to be the source of light, which is not true in principle or in fact, for in the darkness a crystal is as dark as any other stone. In such part do I explain the meaning that the wicked man, having no divine irradiation, is without instruction of God and knowledge of God’s creations; he is as a fugitive from the divine company, and cannot do else than hold that everything is created from the world to be again dissolved into the world. And being no better than a follower of Heraclitus — But who is Heraclitus? Joseph asked.
A clouded face was turned upon Joseph, and for some moments the sage could not collect his thoughts suffi
ciently to answer him. Who is Heraclitus? he repeated, and then, with a general interest in his pupil, he ran off a concise exposition of that philosopher’s doctrine — a mistake on his part, as he was quick enough to admit to himself; for though he reduced his statement to the lowest limits, it awakened in Joseph an interest so lively that he felt himself obliged to expose this philosopher’s fallacies; and in doing this he was drawn away from his subject, which was unfortunate. The hour was near by when the Essenes would, according to rule, retire to their cells for meditation, and — foreseeing that he could not rid himself of the burden which Joseph’s question imposed upon him — he abandoned Heraclitus in a last refutation, to warn Joseph that he must not resume his questions.
But if I do not ask at once, my chance is gone for ever; for your discourse is like the clouds, always taking new shapes, Joseph pleaded. In dread lest all be forgotten, I repeat to myself what you have said, and so lose a great deal for a certain remembrance.
Joseph’s manifest delight in his statement of the doctrines of Heraclitus, and his subsequent refutation of the heathen philosopher caused Mathias to forget temporarily certain ideas that he had been fostering for some days — that God, being the designer and maker of all things, and their governor, is likewise the creator of time itself, for he is the father of its father, and the father of time is the world, which made its own mother — the creation. So that time stands towards God in the relation of a grandson; for this world is a young son of God. On these things the sage’s thoughts had been running for some days past, and he would have liked to have expounded his theory to Joseph: that nothing is future to God: creations and the very boundaries of time are subject.
He said much more, but Joseph did not hear. He was too busy memorising what he had already heard, and during long hours he strove to come to terms with what he remembered, but in vain. The more he thought, the less clear did it seem to him that in eternity there is neither past nor future, that in eternity everything is present. Mathias’s very words; but when he said them, there seemed to be something behind the words; while listening, it seemed to Joseph that sight had been given to him, but his eyes proved too weak to bear the too great illumination, and he had been obliged to cover them with his hands, shutting out a great deal so that he might see just a little ... as it were between his fingers. As we think of God only under the form of light, it seemed to him that the revelation entered into him by his eyes rather than by his ears. He would return to the sage every day, but what if he were not able to remember, if it were all to end in words with nothing behind the words? The sage said that in a little while the discourses would not seem so elusive and evanescent. At present they seemed to Joseph like the mist on the edge of a stream, and he strove against the belief that a philosopher is like a man who sets out to walk after the clouds.
Such a belief being detestable, he resolved to rid himself of it, and Mathias would help him, he was sure, and in this hope he confided his life to him, going back to the night when Samuel appeared to him, and recounting his father’s business and character, introducing the different tutors that were chosen for him, and his own choice of Azariah, to whom he owed his knowledge of Greek. To all of which the philosopher listened complacently enough, merely asking if Azariah shared the belief prevalent in Galilee that the world was drawing to a close. On hearing that he did, he seemed to lose interest in Joseph’s story of Azariah’s relations to his neighbours, nor did he seem unduly afflicted at hearing that only the most orthodox views were acceptable in Galilee. His indifference was disheartening, but being now deep in his biography, Joseph related perforce the years he spent doing his father’s business in northern Syria, hoping as he told his story to awaken the sage’s interest in his visit to Jerusalem. The Sadducees did not believe that Jahveh had resolved to end the world and might be expected to appear in his chariot surrounded by angels blowing trumpets, bidding the dead to rise. But the Pharisees did believe in the resurrection — unfortunately including that of the corruptible body, which seemed to present many difficulties. He was about to enter on an examination of these difficulties, but the philosopher moved them aside contemptuously, and Joseph understood that he could not demean himself to the point of discussing the fallacies of the Pharisees, who, Joseph said, hope to stem the just anger of God on the last day by minute observances of the Sabbath. Mathias raised his eyes, and it was a revulsion of feeling, Joseph continued, against hypocrisy and fornication, that put me astride my mule as soon as I heard of the Essenes, the most enlightened sect of the Jews in Palestine. That you should be among them is testimony of their enlightenment.... Mathias raised his hand, and Joseph’s face dropped into an expression of attention. Mathias was willing to accede that much, but certain circumlocutions in his language led Joseph to suspect that Mathias was not altogether satisfied with the Essenes. He seemed to think that they were too prone to place mere piety above philosophy: a mistake; for our intellect being the highest gift we have received from God, it follows that we shall please him best by using it assiduously. He spoke about the prayers before sunrise and asked Joseph if they did not seem to him somewhat trite and trivial and if he did not think that the moment would be more profitably spent by instituting a comparison between the light of the intellect and that of the sun?
Mathias turned to Joseph, and waited for him to confess his perplexities. But it was hard to confess to Mathias that philosophy was useless if the day of judgment were at hand! He dared not speak against philosophy and it was a long time before Mathias guessed his trouble, but as soon as it dawned on him that Joseph was in doubt as to the utility of philosophy, his face assumed so stern an expression that Joseph began to feel that Mathias looked upon him as a fool. It may have been that Joseph’s consternation, so apparent on his face, restored Mathias into a kindly humour. Be that as it may, Mathias pointed out, and with less contempt than Joseph expected, that the day of judgment and philosophy had nothing in common. We should never cease to seek after wisdom, he said. Joseph concurred. It was not, however, pleasing to Joseph to hear prophecy spoken of as the outpourings of madmen, but — having in mind the contemptuous glance that would fall upon him if he dared to put prophecy above philosophy — he held his peace, venturing only to remark that no prophets were found in Judea for some hundreds of years. Except Manahem, he added hurriedly. But his remembrance of Manahem did not appease the philosopher, who dropped his eyes on Joseph and fixed them on him. The moment was one of agony for Joseph. And as if he remembered suddenly that Joseph was only just come into the district of the Jordan, Mathias told with some ironical laughter that the neighbourhood was full of prophets, as ignorant and as ugly as hyenas. They live, he said, in the caves along the western coasts of the Salt Lake, growling and snarling over the world, which they seem to think rotten and ready for them to devour. Or else they issue forth and entice the ignorant multitude into the Jordan, so that they may the more easily plunge them under the flood. But of what use to speak of these crazed folk, when there are so many subjects of which philosophy may gracefully treat?
Prophets in caves about the Salt Lake! Joseph muttered; and a great desire awakened in him to see them. But you’re not going in search of these wretched men? Mathias asked, and his eyes filled with contempt, and Joseph felt that Mathias had already decided that all intellectual companionship was henceforth impossible between them. He was tempted to temporise. It was not to discuss the resurrection that he desired to see these men, but for curiosity; and during the long walk he would meditate on Mathias’s doctrines.... Mathias did not answer him, and Joseph, seeing him cast away in philosophy and unable to advise him further, went to the president to ask for permission to absent himself for two days from the cenoby, a permission that was granted willingly when the object of the absence was duly related.
CHAP. VIII.
THERE WAS ONE John preaching in the country about the Jordan: the Baptist, they call him, the president said. But go, Joseph, and see the prophets for thyself. I shall be rare glad
to hear what thou hast to say! And he pressed Joseph’s hand, sending him off in good cheer. Banu, ask for Banu! were the last words he called after him, and Joseph hoped the ferryman would be able to point out the way to him. Oh yes, I know the prophet; the ferryman answered: a disciple of John, that all the people are following. But there be a bit of a walk before thee, and one that’ll last thee till dawn, for Banu has been that bothered by visits these times, that he has gone up the desert out of the way, for he be preparing himself these whiles. For what? Joseph asked. The ferryman did not know; he told that John was not baptizing that morning, but for why he did not know. As like as not he be waiting for the river to lower, he said. At which Joseph had half a mind to leave Banu for John; but a passenger was calling the ferryman from the opposite bank and he was left with incomplete information and wandered on in doubt whether to return in quest of the Baptist or make the disciple his shift.
The way pointed out to him lay through the desert, and to find Banu’s cave without guidance would not be easy, and after having found and interrogated him the way would seem longer to return than to come. But, having gone so far, he could not do else than attempt the hot weary search. And it will be one! he said, as he picked his way through the bushes and brambles that contrive to subsist somehow in the flat sandy waste lying at the head of the lake. But as he proceeded into the desert these signs of life vanished, and he came upon a region of craggy and intricate rocks rising sometimes into hills and sometimes breaking away and littering the plain with rubble. The desert is never completely desert for long, and on turning westward as he was directed, Joseph caught sight of the hill which he had been told to look out for — he could not miss it, for the evening sun lit up a high scarp, and on coming to the end of a third mile the desert began to look a little less desert, brambles began again. Banu could not be far away. But Joseph did not dare to go farther. He had been walking for many hours, and even if he were to meet Banu he could not speak to him, so closely did his tongue cleave to the sides of his mouth. But these brambles betoken water, he said; and on coming round a certain rock bulging uncouth from the hillside, he discovered a trickle, and a few paces distant, Banu, ugly as a hyena and more ridiculous than the animal, for — having no shirt to cover his nakedness — he had tressed a garland of leaves about his waist! Yet not so ugly at second sight as at first, for he sees God, Joseph said to himself; and he waited for Banu to rise from his knees.
