by George Moore
I remember thee, Joseph, as one to whom I did a great wrong, but what that wrong was I have forgotten. Do not try to recall it, Joseph said to him, no wrong was done, Jesus. Thou’rt the rich man’s son, he said, and what I remember concerning thee is thy horse, for he was handsomer than any other. His name was Xerxes. Dost still ride him? Is he in the stables of yon house? He was sold, Joseph answered, to pay for our journey in Syria, and some of the price went to pay for thy cloak. The cloak on my shoulders? Jesus asked. The cloak on thy shoulders is one of my cloaks. Thou earnest here naked. I was carried here by an angel, Jesus replied, for I felt the feathers of his wings brush across my face. But why that strange look, Joseph? — those curious, inquisitive eyes? It was an angel that carried me hither. No, Jesus, it was I that carried thee out of the sepulchre up the crooked path. What is thy purpose in saying that it was no angel but thou? Jesus asked; and Joseph, remembering that he must not say anything that would vex Jesus, regretted having contradicted him and tried to think how he might mend his mistake with words that would soothe Jesus; but, as it often is on such occasions, the more we seek for the right words the further we seem to be from them, and Joseph did not know how he might plausibly unsay his story that he had carried him without vexing Jesus still further: he is sure an angel carried him, Joseph said: he felt the feathers of the wings brush across his face, and he is now asking himself why I lied to him.
As Joseph was thinking that it might be well to say that Bethlehem was like Nazareth, he caught sight of Jesus’ face as pale as ashes, more like a dead face than a living, and fearing that he was about to swoon again or die, Joseph called loudly for Esora, who came running down the pathway.
Thou mustn’t call for me so loudly, Master. If Matred had heard thee and come running —— But, Esora, look. As likely as not it is no more than a little faintness, she said. He has been overdoing it: running after puppies, and talking with thee about Cæsarea. But it was thyself told me to ask him to go to Cæsarea for change of air. Never mind, Master, what I told thee. We must think now how we shall get him back to bed. Do thou take one arm and I’ll take the other.
CHAP. XXII.
JESUS DID NOT speak about angels again, and one morning at the end of the week before going away to Jerusalem to attend to some important business Joseph, after a talk with Esora, turned down the alley with the intention of asking Jesus to leave Judea. It would have been better, she said to herself, if he had waited till evening; these things cannot be settled off-hand; he’ll only say the wrong thing again, and she stood waiting at her kitchen door, hoping that Joseph would stop on his way out to tell her Jesus’ decision, but he went away without speaking, and she began to think it unlikely that anything was decided. He is soft-hearted and without much will of his own, she said.... Jesus is going to stay with us, so we may all hang upon crosses yet, unless, indeed, Master comes to hear something in Jerusalem that will bring him round to my way of thinking. He believes, she continued, that Jesus is forgotten because the apostles have returned to their fishing, but that cannot be; the two young women that came here one Sunday morning with a story about an empty sepulchre have found, I’ll vouch, plenty of eager gossips, and a smile floated round her old face at the additions she heard to it yester morning at the gates. But no good would come of my telling him, she meditated, for he’d only say it was my fancies, though he has to acknowledge that I am always right when I speak out of what he calls my fancies. In about three weeks, she muttered, the stories that are going the round will begin to reach his ears.
The old woman’s guess was a good one. It was about that time the camel-drivers, assembled in the yard behind the counting-house, began to tell that Jesus had been raised from the dead, and their stories, being overheard by the clerk, were reported to Joseph. The Pharisees are angry with Pilate for not having put a guard of soldiers over the tomb, the clerk was saying, when Joseph interjected that a guard of soldiers would be of no avail if God had wished to raise Jesus from the dead. The point of their discourse, the clerk continued, is that no man but Jesus died on the cross in three hours; three days, Sir, are mentioned as the usual time. It is said that a man, Sir, often lingers on until the end of the fourth day. Joseph remained, his thoughts suspended, and the clerk, being a faithful servant, and anxious for Joseph’s safety, asked if he might speak a word of counsel, and reading on Joseph’s face that he was permitted to speak, he said: I would have you make an end of these rumours, Sir, and this can be done if you will attend the next meeting of the Sanhedrin and make plain your reason for having gone to Pilate to ask him for the body. As it seemed to Joseph that his clerk had spoken well, he attended the next meeting of the Council, but the business that the councillors had come together for did not admit of interruption for the sake of personal explanation, however interesting, and the hostility of everybody to him was notable from the first. Only a few personal friends spoke to him; among them was Nicodemus, who would not be dismissed, but went away with him at the close of the meeting, beseeching him not to cross the valley unarmed, and if thou wouldst not draw attention to thyself by the purchase of arms, he said, I will give thee the arms thou needest for thyself and will arm some camel-drivers for thee. I thank thee, Nicodemus, but if I were to return home accompanied by three or four armed camel-drivers I should draw the attention of Jerusalem upon me, thereby quickening the anger of the Pharisees, and my death would be resolved upon. But art thou sure that the hirelings of the priests haven’t been told to kill thee? Nicodemus asked. Pilate’s friendship for me is notorious, Joseph replied. I’m not afraid, Nicodemus, and it is well for me that I’m not, for assassination comes to the timorous. That is true, Nicodemus rejoined, our fears often bring about our destiny, but thou shouldst avoid returning by the valley; return by the eastern gate and on horseback. But that way, Joseph answered, is a lonely and long one, and thinking it better to put a bold face on the matter, though his heart was beating, he began to speak scornfully of the Pharisees who, seemingly, would have consented to a desecration of the Sabbath. He had done no more than any other Jew who did not wish the Sabbath to be desecrated, and remembering suddenly that Nicodemus would repeat everything he said, he spoke again of Pilate’s friendship, and the swift vengeance that would follow his murder. Pilate is my friend, and whoever kills me makes sure of his own death. I do not doubt that what thou sayest is true, Joseph, but Pilate may be recalled, and it may suit the next Roman to let the priests have their way. I am going to Egypt to-morrow, he said suddenly. To Egypt, Joseph repeated, and memories awoke in him of the months he spent in Alexandria, of the friends he left there, of the Greek that he had taken so much trouble to perfect himself in, and the various philosophies which he thought enlarged his mind, though he pinned his faith to none; and reading in his face the pleasure given by the word Egypt, Nicodemus pressed him to come with him: all those who are suspected of sympathy with Jesus, he said, will do well to leave Judea for a year at least. Alexandria, as thou knowest, having lived there, is friendly to intellectual dispute. In Alexandria men live in a kingdom that belongs neither to Cæsar nor to God. But all things belong to God, Joseph replied. Yes, answered Nicodemus; but God sets no limits to the mind, but priests do in the name of God. Remember Egypt, where thou’lt find me, and glad to see thee....
On these words the men parted, and Joseph descended into the valley a little puzzled, for the traditionalism of Nicodemus seemed to have undergone a change. But more important than any change that may have happened in Nicodemus’ mind was the journey to Egypt, that he had proposed to Joseph. Joseph would like to go to Egypt, taking Jesus with him, and as he walked he beheld in imagination Jesus disputing in the schools of philosophy, but if he were to go away to Egypt the promise to his father would be broken fully. If his father were to fall ill he might die before the tidings of his father’s illness could reach him; a year’s residence in Egypt was, therefore, forbidden to him; on the top of the Mount of Olives he stopped, so that he might remember that Nicodemus’ disposition w
as always to hear the clashing of swords; spears are always glittering in his eyes for one reason or another, he said, and though he would regret a friend’s death, he would regard it as being atoned for if the brawl were sufficiently violent. He has gone to Egypt, no doubt, because it is pleasing to him to believe his life to be in danger. He invents reasons. Pilate’s recall! Now what put that into his mind? He may be right, but this Mount of Olives is peaceful enough and the road beyond leading to my house seems safe to the wayfarer even at this hour. He followed the road in a quieter mood, and it befell that Esora opened the gates to him, for which he thanked her abruptly and turned away, wishing to be alone; but seeing how overcast was his face, she did not return to her kitchen as she had intended, but remained with him, anxious to learn if the rumours she knew to be current had reached his ears. She would not be shaken off by silence, but followed him down the alley leading to Jesus’ cottage, answering silence by silence, certain in this way to provoke him thereby into confidences. They had not proceeded far into the wood before they came upon Jesus in front of a heap of dead leaves that he had raked together. A great many had fallen, he said, and the place was beginning to look untidy, so I thought I would gather them for burning. Thou must not tire thyself, Joseph answered, as he passed on with Esora, asking her as they went through the autumn woods if Jesus found the rake for himself or if she gave it to him. He asked me if he might be allowed to feed the chickens, she said, and I would have let him if Matred’s window did not overlook the yard. Master, the hope of getting him out of Judea rests upon the chance that he may recover his mind, and staring at the desert all day won’t help him. He musn’t brood, and as there is no work like raking up leaves to keep a man’s thought off himself, unless, indeed, it be digging, I thought I had better let him have the rake. But if Matred should meet him? Joseph asked. She will see the new gardener in him, that will be all. I told her last night, Esora continued, that we were expecting the new gardener, and she said it would be pleasant to have a man about the house again. But he musn’t attempt any hard work like digging yet awhile; he has done enough to-day; I’ll go and tell him to put away the rake and pass on to his supper. She waited for Joseph to answer, but he was in no humour for speech, and she left him looking at the hills.
A cloud lifts, and we are; another cloud descends, and we are not; so much do we know, but we are without sufficient sight to discover the reason behind all this shaping and reshaping, for like all else we ourselves are changing as Heraclitus said many years ago.
And while thinking of this philosopher, whose wisdom he felt to be more satisfying than any other, he paced back and forth, seeking a little while longer to untie the knot that all men seek to untie, abandoning at last, saying: fate tied it securely before the beginning of history, and on these words he ran up the steps of his house, pausing on the threshold to listen, for he could distinguish Esora’s voice, and Matred’s; afterwards he heard Jesus’ voice, and he said: Jesus eats with my servants in the kitchen! This cannot be, and he very nearly obeyed the impulse of the moment, which was to call Jesus and tell him to come and eat his supper with him. To do this, however, would draw Matred’s attention to the fact that Jesus was not of her company but of her master’s, and distinctions between servants and master, he continued, are not for him, who thinks in eternal terms.
He sat at table, his thoughts suspended, but awakening suddenly from a reverie, of which he remembered nothing, he rose from his seat and went to the kitchen door, regretting that he was not with Jesus, for to miss his words, however slight they might be, seemed to him to be a loss that could not be repaired. They are listening to him, he said, with the same pleasure that I used to do, watching his eyes lighting his words on their way.
At that moment a shuffling of feet sent him back to his seat again, and he put food into his mouth just in time to escape suspicion of eavesdropping. I thought, Master, that thy supper was finished, and that I might take away the plates. I’ve hardly begun my supper, Esora. Your voices in the kitchen prevented me from eating. We are sorry for that, Master, she replied. Make no excuses, Esora. I said it was the voices in the kitchen that disturbed me, but in truth it was my own thoughts, for I have heard many things to-day in Jerusalem. Esora’s face brightened and she said to herself: my words to him are coming true. Sit here, Esora, and I’ll tell thee what I’ve heard to-day. And while Matred listened to Jesus in the kitchen Esora heard from Joseph that the camel-drivers had been talking of the resurrection in the yard behind the counting-house, and that his clerk’s advice to him had been to attend the Sanhedrin, and make plain that his reason for going to Pilate to ask for the body of Jesus was because he did not wish a desecration of the Sabbath. But he had only met a show of dark faces, and left the meeting in company with Nicodemus. Esora, is our danger as great as this young man says it is? Master, I have always told thee that as soon as Jesus leaves Judea he will be safe from violence, from death, and we shall be safe too, but not till then. But how are we to persuade him to leave Judea, Esora? Thou must try, Master, to persuade him, there is no other way. He is talking now with Matred in the kitchen. Ask him to come here, and thou’lt see, Esora, the sad face that uplifts when I speak to him of Cæsarea. I’ll speak for thee, Master, she answered, and going to the door she called Jesus to them, and when he stood before them she said: have I not proved a good physician to thee? To-day thy back gives thee no trouble. Only aching a bit, he answered, from stooping, but that will pass away. And my balsam having cured thy feet and hands is it not right that I should take a pride in thee? And, smiling, Jesus answered: had I voice enough I would call the virtue of thy balsam all over the world. My balsam has done well with thee, but a change is needed to restore thee to thyself, and seeing a cloud come into his face, she continued: we weren’t talking of sending thee to Cæsarea, for it is of little use to send a man in search of health whither he is not minded to go. Our talk was not of Cæsarea. But of what city then? Jesus asked, and Esora began to speak of Alexandria, and Joseph, thinking that she repeated indifferently all that she had heard of that city from him, interrupted her and began to discourse about the several schools of philosophy and his eagerness to hear Jesus among the sages. But why should thy philosophers listen to me? Jesus asked. Because thou’rt wise. No man, he replied, is wise but he who would learn, and none is foolish but he who would teach. If there are learners there must be teachers, Joseph said, and he awaited Jesus’ answer eagerly, but Esora, fearing their project would be lost sight of in argument, broke in, saying: neither teaching nor learning avails, but thy health, Jesus, and to-morrow a caravan starts for Egypt, and we would know if thou’lt join it, for one whom thou knowest goes with it, a friend, one Nicodemus, a disciple, whose love for thee is equal to my master’s.
Jesus’ face darkened, but he said nothing, and Esora asked him if he did not care to travel with Nicodemus, and he answered that if he went to Egypt he would like to go with Joseph. But my master has business here, and may not leave it easily. Is this so, Joseph? Jesus asked, and Joseph answered: it is true that I have business here, but there are other reasons, and weightier ones than the one Esora has put before thee, why I may not leave Jerusalem and go to live in Egypt. But wouldst thou have me go to Egypt with Nicodemus, Joseph? Jesus asked, and Joseph could not do else than say that the companion he would choose would not be one whose tongue was always at babble. But wilt thou go to Egypt, he asked, if I tell thee that it is for thy safety and for ours that we propose this voyage to thee? And Jesus answered: be it so.
Then, Jesus, we’ll make plans together, Esora and myself, for thy departure; and having thanked him, Jesus returned to Matred in the kitchen, and they could hear him talking with her while they debated, and as soon as the kitchen door closed Joseph told Esora that he could not break the promise he gave to his father, and it was this very promise that she strove to persuade him to forgo. For it is the only way, she said, and he, agreeing with her, said: though I have promised my father not to keep the company of Jesu
s, it seems to me that I should be negligent in my duty towards Jesus if I did not go with him to Egypt; and Esora said: that is well said, Master, and now we will go to our beds. God often counsels us in sleep and warns us against hasty promises.
And it was as he expected it would be: he was that night disturbed by a dream in which his father appeared to him wearing a distressful face, saying: I have a blessing that I would give to thee. There were more words than this, but Joseph could not remember them; but the words he did remember seemed to him a warning that he must not leave Judea; and Jesus was of one mind with him when he heard them related on the terrace. A son, he said, must be always obedient to his father, and love him before other men.
Whereupon Esora, who was standing by when these words were spoken, was much moved, for she, too, believed in dreams and their interpretation, and she could put no other interpretation upon Joseph’s dream than that he was forbidden to go to Egypt. But Joseph might write, she said, to some of his friends in Egypt, and they could send a friend, if they wished it, who would meet Jesus at Jericho; and this plan was in dispute till all interest in Egypt faded from their minds, and they began to talk of other countries and cities; of Athens and Corinth we were talking, Joseph said to Esora, who had come into the room, and of India, of Judea. But if Jesus were to go to India we should never see him again, she answered. It is thy good pleasure, Master, to arrange the journey, and when it is arranged to thy satisfaction thou’lt tell me, though I do not know why thou shouldst consult me again. I came to tell thee that one of thy camel-drivers has come with the news that the departure of the caravan for Egypt has been advanced by two days. But if thou’rt thinking of Egypt no longer I may send him away. Tell him to return to the counting-house, and that there is no order for to-day, Joseph replied. You will settle the journey between you, Esora said, turning back on her way to the kitchen to speak once more. She would have me go, Jesus said. Put that thought out of thy mind, Joseph replied quickly, for it is not a true thought. Thou shouldst have guessed better; it is well that thou goest, but we must find the country and the city that is agreeable to thee, and that will be discovered in our talk in the next few days, to which Jesus answered nothing; and at the end of the next few days, though much had been said, it seemed to Joseph that Jesus’ departure was as far away as ever. It has become, he said to Esora, a little dim. I know nothing, he continued, of Jesus’ mind.
