Or art thou deaf, or gone upon a
journey?
Longfellow
I regret the gossip
Of friends and neighbors at the open door
On summer nights.
SIMON.
An idle waste of time.
HELEN.
The singing and the dancing, the delight
Of music and of motion. Woe is me,
To give up all these pleasures, and to lead
The life we lead!
SIMON.
Thou canst not raise thyself
Up to the level of my higher thought,
And though possessing thee, I still remain
Apart from thee, and with thee, am alone
In my high dreams.
HELEN.
Happier was I in Tyre.
Oh, I remember how the gallant ships
Came sailing in, with ivory, gold, and silver,
And apes and peacocks; and the singing sailors,
And the gay captains with their silken dresses,
Smelling of aloes, myrrh, and cinnamon!
SIMON.
But the dishonor, Helen! Let the ships
Of Tarshish howl for that!
HELEN.
And what dishonor?
Remember Rahab, and how she became
The ancestress of the great Psalmist David;
And wherefore should not I, Helen of Tyre,
Attain like honor?
SIMON.
Thou art Helen of Tyre,
And hast been Helen of Troy, and hast been Rahab,
The Queen of Sheha, and Semiramis,
And Sara of seven husbands, and Jezebel,
And other women of the like allurements;
And now thou art Minerva, the first Aeon,
The Mother of Angels!
HELEN.
And the concubine
Of Simon the Magician! Is it honor
For one who has been all these noble dames,
To tramp about the dirty villages
And cities of Samaria with a juggler?
A charmer of serpents?
SIMON.
He who knows himself
Knows all things in himself. I have charmed thee,
Thou beautiful asp: yet am I no magician,
I am the Power of God, and the Beauty of God!
I am the Paraclete, the Comforter!
HELEN.
Illusions! Thou deceiver, self-deceived!
Thou dost usurp the titles of another;
Thou art not what thou sayest.
SIMON.
Am I not?
Then feel my power.
HELEN.
Would I had ne'er left Tyre!
He looks at her, and she sinks into a deep sleep.
SIMON.
Go, see it in thy dreams, fair unbeliever!
And leave me unto mine, if they be dreams,
That take such shapes before me, that I see them;
These effable and ineffable impressions
Of the mysterious world, that come to me
From the elements of Fire and Earth and Water,
And the all-nourishing Ether! It is written,
Look not on Nature, for her name is fatal!
Yet there are Principles, that make apparent
The images of unapparent things,
And the impression of vague characters
And visions most divine appear in ether.
So speak the Oracles; then wherefore fatal?
I take this orange-bough, with its five leaves,
Each equidistant on the upright stem;
And I project them on a plane below,
In the circumference of a circle drawn
About a centre where the stem is planted,
And each still equidistant from the other,
As if a thread of gossamer were drawn
Down from each leaf, and fastened with a pin.
Now if from these five points a line be traced
To each alternate point, we shall obtain
The Pentagram, or Solomon's Pentangle,
A charm against all witchcraft, and a sign,
Which on the banner of Antiochus
Drove back the fierce barbarians of the North,
Demons esteemed, and gave the Syrian King
The sacred name of Soter, or of Savior.
Thus Nature works mysteriously with man;
And from the Eternal One, as from a centre,
All things proceed, in fire, air, earth, and water,
And all are subject to one law, which, broken
Even in a single point, is broken in all;
Demons rush in, and chaos comes again.
By this will I compel the stubborn spirits,
That guard the treasures, hid in caverns deep
On Gerizim, by Uzzi the High-Priest,
The ark and holy vessels, to reveal
Their secret unto me, and to restore
These precious things to the Samaritans.
A mist is rising from the plain below me,
And as I look, the vapors shape themselves
Into strange figures, as if unawares
My lips had breathed the Tetragrammaton,
And from their graves, o'er all the battlefields
Of Armageddon, the long-buried captains
Had started, with their thousands, and ten thousands,
And rushed together to renew their wars,
Powerless, and weaponless, and without a sound!
Wake, Helen, from thy sleep! The air grows cold;
Let us go down.
HELEN, awaking.
Oh, would I were at home!
SIMON.
Thou sayest that I usurp another's titles.
In youth I saw the Wise Men of the East,
Magalath and Pangalath and Saracen,
Who followed the bright star, but home returned
For fear of Herod by another way.
O shining worlds above me! in what deep
Recesses of your realms of mystery
Lies hidden now that star? and where are they
That brought the gifts of frankincense and myrrh?
HELEN.
The Nazarene still liveth.
SIMON.
We have heard
His name in many towns, but have not seen Him.
He flits before us; tarries not; is gone
When we approach, like something unsubstantial,
Made of the air, and fading into air.
He is at Nazareth, He is at Nain,
Or at the Lovely Village on the Lake,
Or sailing on its waters.
HELEN.
So say those
Who do not wish to find Him.
SIMON.
Can this be
The King of Israel, whom the Wise Men worshipped?
Or does He fear to meet me? It would seem so.
We should soon learn which of us twain usurps
The titles of the other, as thou sayest.
They go down.
THE THIRD PASSOVER
I
THE ENTRY INTO JERUSALEM
THE SYRO-PHOENICIAN WOMAN and her DAUGHTER
on the house-top at Jerusalem.
THE DAUGHTER, singing.
Blind Bartimeus at the gates
Of Jericho in darkness waits;
He hears the crowd;--he hears a breath
Say, It is Christ of Nazareth!
And calls, in tones of agony,
[Greek text]!
The thronging multitudes increase:
Blind Bartimeus, hold thy peace!
But still, above the noisy crowd,
The beggar's cry is shrill and loud;
Until they say, he calleth thee!
[Greek text]!
Then saith the Christ, as silent stands
The crowd, What wilt thou at my hands?
And he replies, Oh, give me light!
Rabbi, restore the blind man's sight!
And Jesus answers, [Greek text]!
Ye that have eyes, yet cannot see,
In darkness and in misery,
Recall those mighty voices three,
[Greek text]!
[Greek text]!
[Greek text]!
THE MOTHER.
Thy faith hath saved thee! Ah, how true that is!
For I had faith; and when the Master came
Into the coasts of Tyre and Sidon, fleeing
From those who sought to slay him, I went forth
And cried unto Him, saying: Have mercy on me,
O Lord, thou Son of David! for my daughter
Is grievously tormented with a devil.
But he passed on, and answered not a word.
And his disciples said, beseeching Him:
Send her away! She crieth after us!
And then the Master answered them and said:
I am not sent but unto the lost sheep
Of the House of Israel! Then I worshipped Him,
Saying: Lord help me! And He answered me,
It is not meet to take the children's bread
And cast it unto dogs! Truth, Lord, I said;
And yet the dogs may eat the crumbs which fall
From off their master's table; and he turned,
And answered me; and said to me: O woman,
Great is thy faith; then be it unto thee
Even as thou wilt. And from that very hour
Thou wast made whole, my darling! my delight!
THE DAUGHTER.
There came upon my dark and troubled mind
A calm, as when the tumult of the City
Suddenly ceases, and I lie and hear
The silver trumpets of the Temple blowing
Their welcome to the Sabbath. Still I wonder,
That one who was so far away from me
And could not see me, by his thought alone
Had power to heal me. Oh that I could see Him!
THE MOTHER.
Perhaps thou wilt; for I have brought thee here
To keep the holy Passover, and lay
Thine offering of thanksgiving on the altar.
Thou mayst both see and hear Him. Hark!
VOICES afar off.
Hosanna!
THE DAUGHTER.
A crowd comes pouring through the city gate!
O mother, look!
VOICES in the street.
Hosanna to the Son
Of David!
THE DAUGHTER.
A great multitude of people
Fills all the street; and riding on an ass
Comes one of noble aspect, like a king!
The people spread their garments in the way,
And scatter branches of the palm-trees!
VOICES.
Blessed
Is he that cometh in the name of the Lord!
Hosanna in the highest!
OTHER VOICES.
Who is this?
VOICES.
Jesus of Nazareth!
THE DAUGHTER.
Mother, it is he!
VOICES.
He hath called Lazarus of Bethany
Out of his grave, and raised him from the dead!
Hosanna in the highest!
PHARISEES.
Ye perceive
That nothing we prevail. Behold, the world
Is all gone after him!
THE DAUGHTER.
What majesty,
What power is in that care-worn countenance!
What sweetness, what compassion! I no longer
Wonder that he hath healed me!
VOICES.
Peace in heaven,
And glory in the highest!
PHARISEES.
Rabbi! Rabbi!
Rebuke thy followers!
CHRISTUS.
Should they hold their peace
The very stones beneath us would cry out!
THE DAUGHTER.
All hath passed by me like a dream of wonder!
But I have seen Him, and have heard his voice,
And I am satisfied! I ask no more!
II
SOLOMON'S PORCH
GAMALIEL THE SCRIBE.
When Rabban Simeon--upon whom be peace! --
Taught in these Schools, he boasted that his pen
Had written no word that he could call his own,
But wholly and always had been consecrated
To the transcribing of the Law and Prophets.
He used to say, and never tired of saying,
The world itself was built upon the Law.
And ancient Hillel said, that whosoever
Gains a good name gains something for himself,
But he who gains a knowledge of the Law
Gains everlasting life. And they spake truly.
Great is the Written Law; but greater still
The Unwritten, the Traditions of the Elders,
The lovely words of Levites, spoken first
To Moses on the Mount, and handed down
From mouth to mouth, in one unbroken sound
And sequence of divine authority,
The voice of God resounding through the ages.
The Written Law is water; the Unwritten
Is precious wine; the Written Law is salt,
The Unwritten costly spice; the Written Law
Is but the body; the Unwritten, the soul
That quickens it and makes it breathe and live.
I can remember, many years ago,
A little bright-eyed school-boy, a mere stripling,
Son of a Galilean carpenter,
From Nazareth, I think, who came one day
And sat here in the Temple with the Scribes,
Hearing us speak, and asking many questions,
And we were all astonished at his quickness.
And when his mother came, and said: Behold
Thy father and I have sought thee, sorrowing;
He looked as one astonished, and made answer,
How is it that ye sought me? Wist ye not
That I must be about my Father's business?
Often since then I see him here among us,
Or dream I see him, with his upraised face
Intent and eager, and I often wonder
Unto what manner of manhood he hath grown!
Perhaps a poor mechanic like his father,
Lost in his little Galilean village
And toiling at his craft, to die unknown
And he no more remembered among men.
CHRISTUS, in the outer court.
The Scribes and Pharisees sit in Moses' seat;
All, therefore, whatsoever they command you,
Observe and do; but follow not their works
They say and do not. They bind heavy burdens
And very grievous to be borne, and lay them
Upon men's shoulders, but they move them not
With so much as a finger!
GAMALIEL, looking forth.
Who is this
Exhorting in the outer courts so loudly?
CHRISTUS.
Their works they do for to be seen of men.
They make broad their phylacteries, and enlarge
The borders of their garments, and they love
The uppermost rooms at feasts, and the chief seats
In Synagogues, and greetings in the markets,
And to be called of all men Rabbi, Rabbi!
GAMALIEL.
It is that loud and turbulent Galilean,
That came here at the Feast of Dedication,
And stirred the people up to break the Law!
CHRISTUS.
Woe unto you, ye Scribes and Pharisees,
Ye hypocrites! for ye shut up the kingdom
Of heaven, and neither go ye in yourselves
Nor suffer them that are entering to go in!
GAMALIEL.
How eagerly the people throng and listen,
As if his ribald words were words of wisdom!
CHRISTUS.
Woe unto you, ye Scribes and Pharisees,
Ye hypocrites! for ye devour the houses
Of widows, and for pretence ye make long prayers;
Therefore shall ye receive the more damnation.
GAMALIEL.
This brawler is no Jew,--he is a vile
Samaritan, and hath an unclean spirit!
CHRISTUS.
Woe unto you, ye Scribes and Pharisees,
Ye hypocrites! ye compass sea and land
To make one proselyte, and when he is made
Ye make him twofold more the child of hell
Than you yourselves are!
GAMALIEL.
O my father's father!
Hillel of blessed memory, hear and judge!
CHRISTUS.
Woe unto you, ye Scribes and Pharisees,
Ye hypocrites! for ye pay tithe of mint,
Of anise, and of cumin, and omit
The weightier matters of the law of God,
Judgment and faith and mercy; and all these
Ye ought to have done, nor leave undone the others!
GAMALIEL.
O Rabban Simeon! how must thy bones
Stir in their grave to hear such blasphemies!
CHRISTUS.
Woe unto you, ye Scribes, and Pharisees,
Ye hypocrites! for ye make clean and sweet
The outside of the cup and of the platter,
But they within are full of all excess!
GAMALIEL.
Patience of God! canst thou endure so long?
Or art thou deaf, or gone upon a journey?
CHRISTUS.
Woe unto you, ye Scribes and Pharisees,
Ye hypocrites! for ye are very like
To whited sepulchres, which indeed appear
Beautiful outwardly, but are within
Filled full of dead men's bones and all uncleanness!
GAMALIEL.
Am I awake? Is this Jerusalem?
And are these Jews that throng and stare and listen?
CHRISTUS.
Woe unto you, ye Scribes and Pharisees,
Ye hypocrites! because ye build the tombs
Of prophets, and adorn the sepulchres
Of righteous men, and say: if we had lived
When lived our fathers, we would not have been
Partakers with them in the blood of Prophets.
So ye be witnesses unto yourselves,
That ye are children of them that killed the Prophets!
Fill ye up then the measure of your fathers.
I send unto you Prophets and Wise Men,
And Scribes, and some ye crucify, and some
Scourge in your Synagogues, and persecute
From city to city; that on you may come
The righteous blood that hath been shed on earth,
From the blood of righteous Abel to the blood
Of Zacharias, son of Barachias,
Ye slew between the Temple and the altar!
GAMALIEL.
Oh, had I here my subtle dialectician,
My little Saul of Tarsus, the tent-maker,
Whose wit is sharper than his needle's point,
He would delight to foil this noisy wrangler!
CHRISTUS.
Jerusalem! Jerusalem! O thou
That killest the Prophets, and that stonest them
Which are sent unto thee, how often would I
Have gathered together thy children, as a hen
Gathereth her chickens underneath her wing,
And ye would not! Behold, your house is left
Unto you desolate!
THE PEOPLE.
This is a Prophet!
This is the Christ that was to come!
GAMALIEL.
Ye fools!
Think ye, shall Christ come out of Galilee?
III
LORD, IS IT I?
CHRISTUS.
One of you shall betray me.
THE DISCIPLES.
Is it I?
Lord, is it I?
CHRISTUS.
One of the Twelve it is
That dippeth with me in this dish his hand;
He shall betray me. Lo, the Son of Man
Goeth indeed as it is written of Him;
But woe shall be unto that man by whom
He is betrayed! Good were it for that man
If he had ne'er been born!
JUDAS ISCARIOT.
Lord, is it I?
CHRISTUS.
Ay, thou hast said. And that thou doest, do quickly.
JUDAS ISCARIOT, going out.
Ah, woe is me!
CHRISTUS.
All ye shall be offended
Because of me this night; for it is written:
Awake, O sword, against my shepherd! Smite
The shepherd, saith the Lord of hosts, and scattered
Shall be the sheep! --But after I am risen
I go before you into Galilee.
PETER.
O Master! though all men shall be offended
Because of thee, yet will not I be!
CHRISTUS.
Simon,
Behold how Satan hath desired to have you,
That he may sift you as one sifteth wheat!
Whither I go thou canst not follow me--
Not now; but thou shalt follow me hereafter.
PETER.
Wherefore can I not follow thee? I am ready
To go with thee to prison and to death.
CHRISTUS.
Verily I say unto thee, this night,
Ere the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice!
PETER.
Though I should die, yet will I not deny thee.
CHRISTUS.
When first I sent you forth without a purse,
Or scrip, or shoes, did ye lack anything?
THE DISCIPLES.
Not anything.
CHRISTUS.
But he that hath a purse,
Now let him take it, and likewise his scrip;
And he that hath no sword, let him go sell
His clothes and buy one. That which hath been written
Must be accomplished now: He hath poured out
His soul even unto death; he hath been numbered
With the transgressors, and himself hath borne
The sin of many, and made intercession
For the transgressors. And here have an end
The things concerning me.
PETER.
Behold, O Lord,
Behold here are two swords!
CHRISTUS.
It is enough.
IV
THE GARDEN OF GETHSEMANE
CHRISTUS.
My spirit is exceeding sorrowful
Even unto death! Tarry ye here and watch.
He goes apart.
PETER.
Under this ancient olive-tree, that spreads
Its broad centennial branches like a tent,
Let us lie down and rest.
JOHN.
What are those torches,
That glimmer on Brook Kedron there below us?
JAMES.
It is some marriage feast; the joyful maidens
Go out to meet the bridegroom.
PETER.
I am weary.
The struggles of this day have overcome me.
They sleep.
CHRISTUS, falling on his face.
Father! all things are possible to thee,--
Oh let this cup pass from me! Nevertheless
Not as I will, but as thou wilt, be done!
Returning to the Disciples.
What! could ye not watch with me for one hour?
Oh watch and pray, that ye may enter not
Into temptation. For the spirit indeed
Is willing, but the flesh is weak!
JOHN.
Alas!
It is for sorrow that our eyes are heavy. --
I see again the glimmer of those torches
Among the olives; they are coming hither.
JAMES.
Outside the garden wall the path divides;
Surely they come not hither.
They sleep again.
CHRISTUS, as before.
O my Father!
If this cup may not pass away from me,
Except I drink of it, thy will be done.
Returning to the Disciples.
Sleep on; and take your rest!
JOHN.
Beloved Master,
Alas! we know not what to answer thee!
It is for sorrow that our eves are heavy. --
Behold, the torches now encompass us.
JAMES.
They do but go about the garden wall,
Seeking for some one, or for something lost.
They sleep again.
CHRISTUS, as before.
If this cup may not pass away from me,
Except I drink of it, thy will be done.
Returning to the Disciples.
It is enough! Behold, the Son of Man
Hath been betrayed into the hands of sinners!
The hour is come. Rise up, let us be going;
For he that shall betray me is at hand.
JOHN.
Ah me! See, from his forehead, in the torchlight,
Great drops of blood are falling to the ground!
PETER.
What lights are these? What torches glare and glisten
Upon the swords and armor of these men?
And there among them Judas Iscariot!
He smites the servant of the High-Priest with his sword.
CHRISTUS.
Put up thy sword into its sheath; for they
That take the sword shall perish with the sword.
The cup my Father hath given me to drink,
Shall I not drink it? Think'st thou that I cannot
Pray to my Father, and that he shall give me
More than twelve legions of angels presently!
JUDAS to CHRISTUS, kissing him.
Hail, Master! hail!
CHRISTUS.
Friend, wherefore art thou come?
Whom seek ye?
CAPTAIN OF THE TEMPLE.
Jesus of Nazareth.
CHRISTUS.
I am he.
Are ye come hither as against a thief,
With swords and staves to take me? When I daily
Was with you in the Temple, ye stretched forth
No hands to take me! But this is your hour,
And this the power of darkness. If ye seek
Me only, let these others go their way.
The Disciples depart. CHRISTUS is bound and led away. A certain
young man follows him, having a linen cloth cast about his
body. They lay hold of him, and the young man flees from them
naked.
V
THE PALACE OF CAIAPHAS
PHARISEES.
What do we? Clearly something must we do,
For this man worketh many miracles.
CAIAPHAS.
I am informed that he is a mechanic;
A carpenter's son; a Galilean peasant,
Keeping disreputable company.
PHARISEES.
The people say that here in Bethany
He hath raised up a certain Lazarus,
Who had been dead three days.
CAIAPHAS.
Impossible!
There is no resurrection of the dead;
This Lazarus should be taken, and put to death
As an impostor. If this Galilean
Would be content to stay in Galilee,
And preach in country towns, I should not heed him.
But when he comes up to Jerusalem
Riding in triumph, as I am informed,
And drives the money-changers from the Temple,
That is another matter.
PHARISEES.
If we thus
Let him alone, all will believe on him,
And then the Romans come and take away
Our place and nation.
CAIAPHAS.
Ye know nothing at all.
Simon Ben Camith, my great predecessor,
On whom be peace! would have dealt presently
With such a demagogue. I shall no less.
The man must die. Do ye consider not
It is expedient that one man should die,
Not the whole nation perish? What is death?
It differeth from sleep but in duration.
We sleep and wake again; an hour or two
Later or earlier, and it matters not,
And if we never wake it matters not;
When we are in our graves we are at peace,
Nothing can wake us or disturb us more.
There is no resurrection.
PHARISEES, aside.
O most faithful
Disciple of Hircanus Maccabaeus,
Will nothing but complete annihilation
Comfort and satisfy thee?
CAIAPHAS.
While ye are talking
And plotting, and contriving how to take him,
Fearing the people, and so doing naught,
I, who fear not the people, have been acting;
Have taken this Prophet, this young Nazarene,
Who by Beelzebub the Prince of devils
Casteth out devils, and doth raise the dead,
That might as well be dead, and left in peace.
Annas my father-in-law hath sent him hither.
I hear the guard. Behold your Galilean!
CHRISTUS is brought in bound.
SERVANT, in the vestibule.
Why art thou up so late, my pretty damsel?
DAMSEL.
Why art thou up so early, pretty man?
It is not cock-crow yet, and art thou stirring?
SERVANT.
What brings thee here?
DAMSEL.
What brings the rest of you?
SERVANT.
Come here and warm thy hands.
DAMSEL to PETER.
Art thou not
One of this man's also disciples?
PETER.
I am not.
