Complete Works of George Moore

by George Moore

  Even hither do they pursue me, Banu’s eyes seemed to say, while his fingers modestly rearranged his garland; and Joseph, who began to dread the hermit, begged to have the spring pointed out to him that he might drink. Banu pointed to it, and Joseph knelt and drank, and after drinking he was in better humour to tell Banu that Mathias, the great philosopher from Alexandria, scorned the prophecies that the end of the world could not be delayed much longer. And, as John is not baptizing these days, I thought I’d come and ask if we had better begin to prepare for the resurrection and the judgment. On hearing Joseph’s reasons for his visit, the hermit stood with dilated eyes, as if about to speak. But he did not speak; and Joseph asked him what would become of the world after God destroyed it. Before answering, Banu stooped down, and having filled his hand with sand and gravel he said: God will fill his hand with earth, but not this time to make a man and woman, but out of each of his hands will come a full nation, and these he will put into full possession of the earth, for his chosen people will not repent....

  But the ferryman told me that John gathered many together and was baptizing in Jordan? Joseph inquired. To which Banu answered naught, but stood looking at Joseph, who could scarce bring himself to look at Banu, though he felt himself to be in sore need of some prophetic confirmation of the date of the judgment. Is John the Messiah, come to preach that God is near and that we must repent in time? he asked; to which the hermit replied that the Messiah would have many fore-runners, and one of these would give his earthly life as a peace-offering, but enraged Jahveh would not accept it as sufficient and would return with the Messiah and destroy the world. I am waiting here till God bids me arise and preach to men, and the call will be soon, Banu said, for God’s wrath is even now at its height. But do thou go hence to John, who has been called to the Jordan, and get baptism from him. But John is not baptizing these days, the river being in flood, Joseph cried after him. That flood will pass away, Banu answered, before the great and overwhelming flood arises. Will the world be destroyed by water? At this question Banu turned towards the hillside, like one that deemed his last exhortation to be enough, and who desired an undisturbed possession of the solitude. But at the entrance of the cave he stopped: the track is easy to lose after nightfall, he said, and panthers will be about in search of gazelles. Thou wouldst do well to remain with me: my cave is secure against wild beasts. Look behind thee: how dark are the rocks and hills! Joseph cast his eyes in the direction of Jericho and thanked God for having put a kind thought into the hermit’s mind, for the landscape was gloomy enough already, and an hour hence he would be stumbling over a panther in the dark, and the sensation of teeth clutching at his throat and of hind claws tearing out his belly banished from his mind all thoughts of the unpleasantness of passing a night in a narrow cave with Banu, whom he helped to close the entrance with a big stone and to pile up other stones about the big stone making themselves safe, so Banu said, from everything except perhaps a bear.

  The thought of the bear that might scrape aside the stone kept Joseph awake listening to Banu snoring, and to the jackals that barked all night long. They are quarrelling among themselves, Banu said, turning over, for the jackals succeeded in waking him, quarrelling over some gazelle they’ve caught. A moment after, he was asleep again, and Joseph, despite his fear of the wild beasts, must have dozed for a little while, for he started up, his hair on end. A bear! a bear! he cried, without awakening Banu, and he listened to a scratching and a sniffling round the stones with which they had blocked the entrance to the cave. Or a panther, he said to himself. The animal moved away, and then Joseph lay awake hour after hour, dropping to sleep and awakening again and again.

  About an hour after sunrise, Banu awakened him and asked him to help him to roll the stones aside; which Joseph did, and as soon as they were in the dusk he turned out of his pockets a few crusts and some cheese made out of ewe’s milk, and offered to share the food with his host; but Banu, pointing to a store of locusts, put some of the insects into his mouth and told Joseph that his vow was not to eat any other food till God called him forth to preach; which would be, he thought, a few days before the judgment: a view that Joseph did not try to combat, nor did he eat his bread and cheese before him, lest the sight of it should turn the prophet’s stomach from the locusts. It was distressing to watch him chewing them; they were not easy to swallow, but he got them down at last with the aid of some water obtained from the source, and during breakfast his talk was all the while of the day of judgment and the anger of God, who would destroy Israel and build up another nation that would obey him. It would be three or four days before the judgment that God would call him out to preach, he repeated; and Joseph was waiting to hear how far distant were these days? A month, a year, belike some years, for God’s patience is great. He stopped speaking suddenly, and throwing out his arms he cried out: he has come, he has come! He whom the world is waiting for. Baptize him! Baptize him! He whom the world is waiting for has come.

  But for whom is the world waiting? Joseph asked; and Banu answered: hasten to the Jordan, and find him whom thou seekest.

  CHAP. IX.

  I SHALL PRAY that the Lord call thee out of the desert to join thy voice with those already preaching, Joseph cried; and the hermit answered him: let us praise the Lord for having sent us the new prophet! But do thou hasten to John, he called after Joseph, who ran and walked alternately, striving up every hillock for sight of the ferryman’s boat which might well be waiting on this side for him to step on board; Joseph being in a hurry, it would certainly be lying under the opposite bank, the ferryman asleep in it, and so soundly that no cries would awaken him.

  But Joseph’s fortune was kinder than he anticipated, for on arriving at the Jordan he found himself at the very spot where the ferryman had tied his boat and — napping — awaited a passenger. So rousing him with a great shout, Joseph leaped on board and told the old fellow to pull his hardest; but having been pulling across the Jordan for nigh fifty years, the ferryman was little disposed to alter his stroke for the pleasure of the young man, who, he remembered, had not paid him over-liberally yester-evening; and in the mid-stream he rested on his oars, so that he might the better discern the great multitude gathered on yon bank. For baptism, he said; or making ready to go home after baptism, he added; and letting his boat drift, sat discoursing on the cold of the water, which he said was colder than he ever knew it before at this season of the year: remarks’ that Joseph considered well enough in themselves, but out of his humour. So ye be craving for baptism, the ferryman said, and looked as if he did not care a wild fig whether Joseph got it that morning or missed it. But there was no use arguing with the ferryman, who after a long stare fell to his oars, but so leisurely that Joseph seized one of them and — putting his full strength upon it — turned the boat’s head up-stream.

  There be no landing up-stream anywhere, so loose my oars or I’ll leave them to thee, the ferryman growled, and we shall be twirling about stream till midday and after. But I can row, Joseph said. Then row! and the ferryman put the other oar into his hand. But we shall be quicker across if thou’lt leave them to me. And as this seemed to Joseph the truth, he fell back into his seat, and did not get out of it till the boat touched the bank. But he jumped too soon and fell into the mud, causing much laughter along the bank, and not a few ribald remarks, some saying that he needed baptism more than those that had gotten it. But a hand was reached out to him, and that he should ask for the Baptist before thinking of his clothes showed the multitude that he must be another prophet, which he denied, calling on heaven to witness that he was not one: whereupon he was mistaken for a great sinner, and heard that however great his repentance it would avail him nothing, for the Baptist was gone away with his disciple. Joseph, thinking that he had left the Baptist’s disciple in the desert, began to argue that this could not be, and raved incontinently at the man, bringing others round him, till he was hemmed into a circle of ridicule. Among the multitude many were of the same faith as J
oseph himself, and these drew him out of the circle and explained to him that the Baptist baptized in the river for several hours, till — unable to bear the cold any longer — he had gone away, his teeth chattering, with Jesus the Essene.

  Jesus the Essene! Joseph repeated, but before he could inquire further, men came running along the bank, saying they had sins to repent, and on hearing that the Baptist was gone and would not return that day, they began to tell each other stories of the great cloud that was seen in the east, bearing within it a chariot; and from the chariot angels were seen descending all the morning with flaming swords in their hands. Get thee baptized! they shouted, and clamoured, and pushed to and fro — a thronging gesticulating multitude of brown faces and hooked noses, of bony shoulders and striped shirts. Get thee baptized before sunset! everybody was crying. And Joseph watched the veils floating from their turbans as they fled southwards. On what errand? he asked; in search of the Baptist or the new disciple Jesus? Not the new disciple, was the answer he got back; for Jesus leaves baptism to John. But why doesn’t Jesus baptize? Joseph asked, since he is a disciple of the Baptist. If baptism be good for him, it is good enough for another. And so the multitude seemed to think, and were confounded till one amongst them said that Jesus might not be endowed with the gift of baptism; or belike have accepted baptism from John for a purpose, it having been prophesied that the Messiah would have a forerunner. But who, asked many voices together, has said that Jesus is the Messiah? some maintaining that Jesus was the lesser prophet. But this contention was not agreeable to all, some having, for, reasons unknown to Joseph, ranged themselves already alongside of Jesus, believing him to be greater than John, yet not the final prophet promised to Israel. And these came to blows with the others, who looked upon John as the Messiah, and Jesus as the one whom John had called to his standard: a recruit — nothing. Skinny fists were striving in the air and — thrusting himself between two disputants — Joseph begged them to tell him if Jesus, John’s disciple, was from the cenoby? Yea, yea, he heard from all sides; the shepherd of the brotherhood — that one who follows their flocks over the hills; but not being sure of his mission, he has gone into the desert to wait for a sign. An Essene, but one that was seldom in the cenoby, more often to be met on the hills with his flocks. A shepherd? Joseph asked. Yea, and it was among the hills that John met him, and seeing a prophet in him spoke to him, and Jesus, seeing that another prophet was risen up in Israel, had thrown his flute away and gone to the president to ask for leave to preach the baptism of repentance unto men, for the grand day is at hand. Joseph having heard this before, heeded only tidings of the new prophet, when a woman pressing forward shouted: a pleasant voice to hear on the mountain-side, said she; and another added: the hills will seem lonely without his gait. A great slinger, cried a third. But why did he come to John for baptism, knowing himself to be the greater prophet? A question that started them all wrangling again, and crying one against the other that repentance was necessary, or else the Lord would desert them or choose another race.

  These are irksome gossips, a man said to Joseph; but come with me and I’ll tell thee much about him. No better shepherd than he ever ranged the hills. I wouldn’t have thee forget, mate, another man said, that he’s gone without leaving us his great cure for scab. True for thee, mate, answered the first, for a great forgetfulness has been on him this time past.... A great cure, certainly, which he might have left us. And the twain fell to discussing their several cures for scab. Another shepherd came by and passed the remark that Jesus knew the hills like one born among them. But neither could tell whence he came, nor did they know if he brought the cure for scab with him, or learnt it at the cenoby. The brotherhood has secrets that it is forbidden to tell. I be with thee on this matter, said another shepherd, that wherever he goes, he’ll be a prize to a master, for the schooling he has been through will stand to him.

  The last of this chatter that came to Joseph’s ears was that Jesus could do as much with sheep as any man since Abraham, and — satisfied with this knowledge — he took his leave of the shepherds, certain that Jesus must have been among the Essenes for many years before God called to him to leave his dogs and to follow John, whom he began to recognise as greater than himself, but whom he was destined to supersede, as John’s own disciple, Banu, testified in the desert before Joseph’s own eyes. He remembered how Banu saw John in a vision plunging Jesus into Jordan. Of trickery and cozenage there was none: for the men along these banks bore witness to the baptism that Joseph would have seen for himself if he had started a little earlier; nor could the Jesus who came to John for baptism be other than the young shepherd whom Joseph had seen, at the beginning of his novitiate, walking with the president in deep converse; the president apparently trying to dissuade him from some project. Joseph could not remember having heard anyone speak so familiarly or so authoritatively to the president, a man some twenty years older; and he wondered at the time how a mere shepherd from the hills could talk on an equality, as if they were friends, with the president. The shepherd, he now heard, was an Essene, but he lived among the hills, and Joseph remembered the striped shirt, the sheepskin and the long stride. His memory continued to unfold, and he recalled with singular distinctness and pleasure the fine broad brow curving upwards — a noble arch, he said to himself — the eyes distant as stars and the underlying sadness in his voice oftentimes soft and low, but with a cry in it; and he remembered how their eyes met, and it seemed to Joseph that he read in the shepherd’s eyes a look of recognition and amity.

  And now, as he walked from the Jordan to the cenoby, he remembered how, all one night after that meeting, dreams of a mutual destiny plagued him: how he slept and was awakened by visions that fled from his mind as he strove to recall them. But was this young shepherd the one that Banu saw John baptize in the Jordan? It cannot be else, he said to himself. But whither was Jesus gone? Did the brethren know, and if they did know would they tell him? It was against the rule to put questions: only the president could tell him, and he dared not go to the president. Yet consult somebody he must; and a few days afterwards he got leave again to visit Banu, whom he found lying in his cave, sick: not very sick; though having eaten nothing for nearly two days he begged Joseph to fetch him a little water from the rock; which Joseph did. After having drunk a little the hermit seemed to revive, and Joseph related how he missed Jesus on the bank and had no tidings of him except that he was gone into the desert to meditate. But the desert is large, and I know not which side of the lake he has chosen. To which Banu answered: John is baptizing in the Jordan; get thee baptized and repent! On which he reached out his hand to his store of locusts, and while munching a few he added: the Baptist is greater than Jesus, and he is still baptizing. Get thee to Jordan! At this Joseph took offence and returned to the cenoby with the intention of resuming his teaching. But he was again so possessed of Jesus that he could not keep his mind on the lesson before him: a pupil was often forced to put a question to him in a loud voice, and perhaps to repeat it, before Joseph’s sick reverie was sufficiently broken for him to formulate an answer. The pain of the effort to return to them was so apparent in his face that the pupils began to be sorry for him and kept up a fire of questions, to save him from the melancholy abstractions to which he lately seemed to have become liable. The cause of his grief they could not guess, but he was not sure they did not suspect the cause; and so the classes in which he heretofore took so much pleasure came to be dreaded by him. Every moment except those in which he sat immersed in dreams was a penance and a pain; and at last he pleaded illness, and Mathias took his class, leaving Joseph to wander as far as he liked from the cenoby, which had become hateful to him.

  He was often met in the public gardens in Jericho, watching the people going by, vaguely interested and vaguely wearied by the thoughts that their different shows called up in his mind; and he was always painfully conscious that nothing mattered: that the great void would never be filled up again: and that time would not restore to
him a single desire or hope. Nothing matters, he often said to himself, as he sat drawing patterns in the gravel with his stick. Yet he had no will to die, only to believe he was the victim of some powerful malign influence.

  One day as he sat watching the wind in the palm-trees, it seemed to him that this influence, this demon, was always moving behind his life, disturbing and setting himself to destroy any project that Joseph might form. Another day it seemed to Joseph that the demon cast a net over him, and that — entangled in the meshes — he was being drawn — Somebody spoke to him, and he awoke so affrighted that the gossip could hardly keep himself from laughing outright. If the end of the world were at hand, let the end come to pass! he said; but he did not go to John for baptism. He knew not why, only that he could not rouse himself! And it was not till it came to be rumoured in Jericho that a prophet was gone to Egypt to learn Greek that he awoke sufficiently to ask why a Jewish prophet needed Greek. The answer he got was that the new doctrine required a knowledge of Greek; Greek being a world-wide language, and the doctrine being also world-wide. As there was but one God for all the world, it was reasonable to suppose that every man might hope for salvation, be he Jew or Gentile. It seemed to Joseph that this doctrine could only emanate from the young shepherd he had met in the cenoby, and he joined a caravan, and for fifteen days dreamed of the meeting that awaited him at the end of the journey — and of the delightful instruction in Greek that he was going to impart to Jesus. The heights of Mount Sinai turned his thoughts backward only for a moment, and he continued his dream of Jesus, continuing without interruption along the shell-strewn shores of the Sea of Arabah, on and on into the peninsula, till he stepped from the lurching camel into the great caravanserai in Alexandria.