University of Virginia Library

Scene II.

A room in Joseph's cottage at Nazareth. Mary the mother of Jesus, Joseph, the Rabbi Ben-Aaron, Mary Magdalene, engaged in conversation.
Mary the Mother
(to Ben-Aaron).
We need your help, for we have anxious hearts.

Joseph.
The youth's a noble youth, but there are now
Strange rumours in the air; the thoughts of men
Are all unsettled. Some predict the end:
The book of Daniel has convulsed the nation:
These Messianic dreams have reached the ears
Of Jesus, touched his youthful heart to flame;
We dread the future.

Ben-Aaron.
Can I be of service?

Mary the Mother.
Your wondrous learning and your gentle heart
May be of priceless service. We are folk
Unlearned, simple—Jesus hardly deigns
To listen to our protests. He will hear
Your words.

Mary Magdalene
(aside).
His words will be as idle waves
That beat against the blue lake's rocky shore,
Yet fret not even a pebble. I know Jesus.

Ben-Aaron.
I'll do my utmost to convince your son
That in the old-fashioned paths lie peace and safety
“Once young, I now am old,” as David says,
“Yet saw I never any righteous man
Who held to the old true faith, forlorn, forsaken.”
When Moses' Law with its far-seeing gaze
Ordained that any, be he poor or rich,
Who contravened its mandates should be stoned,
Stoned without trial, was its edict harsh?
Nay, nowise harsh—but simply, nobly, just;
Aye, more than this, our nation's best defence
Against false teachers.

Mary Magdalene
(aside).
Would they stone him then?
If a stone crushed that white pure brow of his,
Myself would stone the stoner. (Aloud)
Do you hold
That thinkers should be stoned?

Ben-Aaron.
Yes, when their thought
Wanders in reinless freedom far beyond
The bounds prescribed. Thought's mountains may be climbed
By cultured men and learned in the land,
Not by the unlearned folk of Galilee.

Joseph.
You speak true wisdom's words; with all my heart
I do assent to all that you have said.
He may need much convincing—he's surrounded,
I grieve to say it, by a crowd of men
Whose hearts are fed with wildest hopes, whose brains
Are none too sound—the least mad is Iscariot.
Andrew and Peter—they are honest fishers,
Their father was my friend—but James and John,
“The sons of thunder” as the people call them,
They are young fiery revolutionists,
They'll lead my son towards danger; John believes
That Daniel spoke the very, literal, truth
And that 'mid flame and blood and wildest woes
The Son of God will come to rule the earth.
Philip is John the Baptist's staunch disciple:
He will plant deep the Baptist's wild ideas
In Jesus' brain—he's ever urging him
To seek out John on Jordan's rocky banks
And to submit to be baptised of him.

Ben-Aaron.
Well, if he went, it might not all be ill.
(Aside)
The thing might serve my purpose. (Aloud)
If he went,
That hideous desert where John holds his own,
Being as it is the dreariest loneliest spot
In all the world, might rouse in Jesus' mind
Swift healthier yearning for the flower-filled vales
Of this our fair and fertile Galilee.

Mary Magdalene.
Are John the Baptist's followers men alone?
Do women seek the desert?

Ben-Aaron.
Some there are,
Mere worthless hussies who upon the sand
Writhe in convulsions at the prophet's feet.

Mary Magdalene.
Jesus loves flowers and sunshine and the clear
Blue cloudless skies, or better still the nights
Alive with stars, of this our Galilee.
That desert will not suit him— (aside)
nor me either.

Ben-Aaron
(to Mary Magdalene).
Now, if you'll lead the way—you know the haunts
Of Jesus—

Mary Magdalene.
He is resting in the grove—

Ben-Aaron.
I'll do my best to draw him gently round
To wiser happier views of men and things.

Joseph and Mary the Mother
(together).
Our heartiest thanks to you!

Ben-Aaron.
Nay, thank me not.
Such business is a pleasure— (aside)
as it is,
For it shall serve my pleasure.

Mary Magdalene.
Follow me.

(Exeunt Ben-Aaron and Mary Magdalene).
Joseph
(looking after them).
There goes a good old man, and with him goes
A right good maiden—good as she is fair.

Mary the Mother.
Good—yes—but somewhat flighty. As for him,
Ben-Aaron, I could trust him with my soul.
What a strange face and figure—slightly bent,
Stooping with grand superb proud dignity;
That reverend brow, so worn with lofty thought;
The mouth, so gentle and so passionless,
Round which a smile perpetual softly plays;
And then the eyes, so full of far-off dreams—
Eyes which see God, and understand the stars
And all the stars' dim secrets—what a man!
They say he's learned past all comprehension,
Nothing there is Ben-Aaron does not know,
So gossip has it—and I think indeed
That gossip in this for once is wholly right.
They say that curious mystic ruby ring
On his forefinger that he always wears
Was seen to flash its rays from Moses' hand
When he descended from Mount Sinai.

Joseph.
Ah—do they say so? 'Tis a wondrous ring:
I can believe the story.

Mary.
There they go!
Rounding that corner, 'mid the trees they'll find
Our son.

Joseph.
I trust Ben-Aaron will convince him.

Mary.
A curious couple—Mary, full of youth
And girlish sweetness, pacing by the side
Of wisdom here incarnate. She is safe
With him as with an angel.

Joseph.
Far more safe,
If some old tales be true! But let's be going.

(Exeunt Joseph and Mary the Mother).