CHAP. VII.

The hut that Joseph was bidden to enter was the last left in the cenoby

for allotment, four proselytes having arrived last month.

No better commodity have we for the moment, the curator said, struck by

the precarious shelter the hut offered--a crazy door and a roof that let

the starlight through at one end of the wall. But the rains are over, he

added, and the coverlet is a warm one. On this he left Joseph, whom the

bell would call to orison, too tired to sleep, turning vaguely from side

to side, trying to hush the thoughts that hurtled through his clear

brain--that stars endure for ever, but the life of the palm-tree was as

the life of the man who fed on its fruit. The tree lived one hundred

years, and among the Essenes a centenarian was no rare thing, but of

what value to live a hundred years in the monotonous life of the cenoby?

And in his imagination, heightened by insomnia, the Essenes seemed to

him like the sleeping trees. If he remained he would become like them,

while his father lived alone in Galilee! Dan rose up before him and he

could find no sense in the assurances he had given the president that he

wished to be admitted into the order. He seemed no longer to desire

admission, and if he did desire it he could not, for his father's sake,

accept the admission. Then why had he talked as he had done to the

president? He could not tell: and it must have been while lying on his

right side, trying to understand himself, what he was and why he was in

the cenoby, that he fell into that deep and dreamless sleep from which

he was awakened by a bell, and so suddenly that it seemed to him that he

had not been asleep more than a few minutes. It was no doubt the bell

for morning prayer: and only half awake he repaired with the other

proselytes to the part of the village open to the sunrise.

All the Essenes were assembled there, and he learnt that they looked

upon this prayer of thanksgiving for the return of light as the

important event of the day. He joined in it, though he suspected a

certain idolatry in the prayer. It seemed to him that the Essenes were

praying for the sun to rise; but to do this would be to worship the sun

in some measure, and to look upon the sun as in some degree a God, he

feared; but the Essenes were certainly very pious Jews. What else they

were, time would reveal to him: a few days would be enough; and long

before the prayer was finished he was thinking of his father in Galilee

and what his face would tell, were he to see his son bowing before the

sun. But the Essenes were not really worshipping the sun but praying to

God that the sun might rise and give them light again to continue their

daily work. One whole day at least he must spend in the cenoby,

and--feeling that he was becoming interested again in the Essenes--he

began to form a plan to stay some time with them.

On rising from his knees, he thought he might stay for some weeks. But

if the Essene brotherhood succeeded in persuading him that his fate was

to abandon his father and the trade that awaited him in Galilee and the

wife who awaited him somewhere? His father often said: Joseph, you are

the last of our race. I hope to see with you a good wife who will bear

you children, for I should like to bless my grandchildren before I die.

The Essenes would at least free him from the necessity of telling his

father that there was no heart in him for a wife; and if he did not take

a wife, he might become---- One of the curators whispered to him the use

he should make of the little axe, and he followed the other proselytes;

and having found a place where the earth was soft, each dug a hole about

a foot deep, into which they eased themselves, afterwards filling up the

hole with the earth that had been taken out. Joseph then went down with

them to a source for purifications, and these being finished the

proselytes grouped themselves round Joseph, anxious to become acquainted

with the last recruit, and asking all together what provision of food he

had made for himself for that day: if he had made none, he would have to

go without food, for only those who were admitted into the order were

suffered to the common repasts. A serious announcement, he said, to make

to a man at break of day who knew nothing of these things yesterday, and

he asked how his omission might be repaired. He must ask for permission

to go to Jericho to buy food. As he was going there on a mule, he might

bring back food not only for himself but for all of them: enough lentils

to last a week; and he inquired what else they were permitted to eat--if

eggs were forbidden? At which the proselytes clapped their hands. A

basket of eggs! A basket of eggs! And some honey! cried another. Figs!

cried a third; we haven't tasted any for a month. But my mule's back

will not bear all that you require, Joseph answered. Our mule! cried the

proselytes; all property is held in common. Even the fact of my mule

having become common property, Joseph said, will not enable him to

carry more than his customary burden, and the goods will embarrass me.

If the mule belongs to the community, then I am the mule driver, the

provider of the community. Constituted such by thy knowledge of the

aptitudes and temper and strength of the animal! cried a proselyte after

him, and he went away to seek out one of the curators; for it is not

permissible for an Essene to go to Jericho without having gotten

permission. Of course the permission was at once granted, and while

saddling his mule for the journey the memory of the river overnight now

caused Joseph to hesitate and to think that he might find himself return

empty-handed to the plump of proselytes now waiting to see him start.

But if thou crossed the river yesterday, there is no reason why thou

shouldn't cross it in safety now, cried one. But forget not the basket

of eggs, said a second. Nor the honey, mentioned a third, and a fourth

called after him the quality of lentils he enjoyed. The mind of the

fifth regarding food was not expressed, for a curator came by and

reproved them, saying they were mere belly-worshippers.

There will be less water in the river than there was overnight, the

curator said, and Joseph hoped he was right, for it would be a harsh and

disagreeable death to drown in a lake so salt that fish could not live

in it. True, one would escape being eaten by fishes; but if the mule be

carried away, he said to himself, drown I shall, long before I reach the

lake, unless indeed I strike out and swim--which, it seemed to him,

might be the best way to save his life--and if there be no current in

the lake I can gain the shore easily. But the first sight of the river

proved the vanity of his foreboding, for during the night it had emptied

a great part of its flood into the lake. The struggle in getting his

mule across was slight; still slighter when he returned with a sack of

lentils, a basket of eggs, some pounds of honey and many misgivings as

to whether he should announce this last commodity to the curator or

introduce it surreptitiously. To begin his probationship with a

surreptitious act would disgrace him in the eyes of the prior, whose

good opinion he valued above all. So did his thoughts run on till he

came within sight of a curator, who told him that sometimes, on the

first day of probationship, honey and figs were allowed.

The cooking of the food and the eating of it in the only cabin in which

there were conveniences for eating helped the time away, and Joseph

began to ask himself how long his cloistral life was going to endure,

for he seemed to have lost all desire to leave it, and had begun to turn

the different crafts over in his mind and to debate which he should

choose to put his hand to. Of husbandry he was as ignorant as a crow,

nor could he tell poisonous pastures from wholesome, nor could he help

in the bakery. At first venture there seemed to be no craft for him to

follow, since fish did not thrive in the Salt Lake and the fisherman's

art could not be practised, he was told, in the Jordan, for the Essenes

were not permitted to kill any living thing.

While laying emphasis on this rule, the curator cracked a flea under his

robe, but Joseph did not call his attention to his disobedience, but

bowed his head and left him to the scruple of conscience which he hoped

would awaken in him later.

Before this had time to come to pass, the curator called after him and

suggested that he might teach Hebrew to the four proselytes, whose

knowledge of that language had seemed to Mathias, their instructor,

disgracefully weak. They were all from Alexandria, like their teacher,

and read the Scriptures in Greek; but the Essenes, so said the curator,

must read the Scriptures in Hebrew; and the teaching of Hebrew, Mathias

said to Joseph, takes me away from my important work, but it may amuse

you to teach them. Our father may accept you as a sufficient teacher: go

to him for examination.

A little talk and a few passages read from the Scriptures satisfied the

president that Joseph was the assistant teacher that had been so long

desired in the community, and he spoke to Joseph soothingly of Mathias,

whose life work was the true interpretation of the Scriptures. But did

the Scriptures need interpretation? Joseph asked himself, not daring to

put questions to the president; and on an early occasion he asked

Mathias what the president meant when he spoke of a true interpretation

of the Scriptures, and was told that the true meaning of the Scriptures

lay below the literal meaning. There can be no doubt, he said, that the

Scriptures must be regarded as allegories; and he explained to Joseph

that he devoted all his intellect to discovering and explaining these

allegories, a task demanding extraordinary assiduity, for they lay

concealed in what seemed to the vulgar eye mere statements of fact: as

if, he added scornfully, God chose the prophets for no better end than a

mere relation of facts! He was willing, however, to concede that his

manner of treating the Scriptures was not approved by the entire

community, but in view of his learning, the proselytes were admitted to

his lectures--one of the innovations of the prior, who, in spite of all,

remained one of his supporters.

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 sufficiently 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.

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