University of Virginia Library

Scene V.

On the borders of the Lake of Gennesareth. Jesus pacing to and fro, soliloquising.
Jesus.
Yet—am I not in error after all
Perchance? The ancient worship hath its charm,
Its beauty: if I disregard the past,
How many loving hearts I shall estrange!
Am I mistaken? Are my thoughts my own,
My own thoughts only—not, as I have deemed,
God's thought imprinted deeply on my brain,
That I in truth might carry out God's thought
And make it known unto the sons of men?
Shall I, instead of peace, send forth a sword
On earth,—a sword most keen-edged to divide
Mother from son, and faithful friend from friend?
Yea, in the future—for my soul can see
The future in prophetic moments spread
Vivid before me—men shall take my words,
Twist them and wrest them to their own base ends,
Shall torture prophets God-sent like myself,
Hale them to death—as me perchance they'll hale.
The fires of future torment may leap high,
All in the name of Jesus; for the heart
Of man is cunning to pervert God's gifts
And turn his choicest boons to bitterest curses.
Others shall rise—great prophets, poet-souls,
Reformers, thinkers—for whom God prepares
Doubtless vast tracts of deep abysmal darkness
That their souls starlike may possess the dark
And change it into light unutterable.
As my soul shall shine starlike through the gloom
Of centuries, so for other centuries these
Shall shine like stars and slowly lead man on
From faiths ignoble unto nobler creeds.
Yet all of these the hands of man shall slay,
The heart of man dishonour, in my name
And as for my sake—calling me a God,
Jehovah-Jesus, me whose throne was first
A manger, next my workman's common bench,
And whose last throne shall be an outcast's grave.
O noble spirits whom in my name man's hands
Shall basely use, whom in my name man's mind
Shall baselier misinterpret, pardon me
That I unknowing, powerless, sealed your doom!
Stars wear ye, doubtless, lordlier in your crowns
Than the pale stars that gem my diadem!
But from Judæa with full heart to-day
I hail and greet ye: virgin are the lips
Of God, though I have kissed them, for your lips,
O prophets of the far-off years, to touch!
The fulness of the Godhead unimpaired,
Untampered with, awaits you: never man
Plunged deep in the abysses of God's heart
But starrier heights, profounder depths, beyond
Shone, and shine on for ever. Doubt has passed:
The Father's will shall to the end be done.
(Exit Jesus).

(Enter Ben-Aaron, on the opposite side of the stage).
Ben-Aaron.
There's Peter?—vehement, eager, over-bold—
Of little use to me—and Andrew too;
Better the twain at casting of a net
For fish than carrying out a great man's purpose:
Matthew? Messiah-ridden, dreamy, weak—
His one desire's to prove the prophecies
Fulfilled to the minutest point in Jesus:
Simon Zelotes? Not of much account;
A mere fanatic, trained too in the school
Of fierce-tongued Judas the mad Gaulonite:
Then James and John, the sons of Zebedee;
James might be got at—not so easy though;
The younger, John, with that girl-face of his,
As beautiful as Jesus, though the strength
That crowns the grace in Jesus is not there,
His case is hopeless—see him lean his head
On Jesus' breast—you'd think the man no man,
But woman—hardly of the purer sort:
Next Jude and James, the cousins of our friend;
Something in them of Mary Cleophas
Their mother, somewhat fool-fanatical,
Unfits them for my purpose; they have clung
To Jesus closelier than his brothers have;
Some think they are his brothers—fools all round:
What of Bartholomew? he, with learned look,
Takes notes of Jesus' sayings—he might be
Of use, could I but gain him—he might make
An excellent strong witness at the close:
Then Philip of Bethsaida—far too fond
Of watching dead folks rise, uncanny task!
Thomas? A better man; I like to hear
His soft tongue puzzle Jesus with his questions—
“Lord, what's the date of this? the hour of that?
The name of him or her? where did she dwell?
When did her illness leave her? was her face
Unspotted still with fever?”—and so forth;
He's just the only one of all the set
Possessed of anything approaching culture.
Stay—there's another, and with far more “back”
As our rough peasants say—Iscariot:
He's from the South—the only stranger here;
The others hate him, and he hates the others;
They jeer, they taunt him with his Southern speech,
He taunts them (rightly!) for their Northern crassness.
Yes, he's my man: there's something in his eyes
I like—a certain sudden flash at times;
He'll do great deeds, if only I can make
Great deeds well worth his while—he holds the bag;
He can be coarse at moments in his speech—
Though coarseness shocks me, coarse men none the less
Are useful tools—one ought not to complain
When handling useful weapons at their roughness;
The rougher handle gives the closer grip.
Besides if what I hear—one hears so much,
So little of it's true, but this is true
I think—if only what I hear is true,
The man's in love with Mary, and in him
Love means—well, several things—but most of all
Mad boundless fierce unreasoning jealousy;
And jealousy is just the fittest string
For me to harp upon—of all great deeds
Man ever did, I think the greatest deeds
Were done through jealousy,—that little word
Bodied in acts has changed all history's course
And ground high towers to dust. Here comes the man:
I'll test him straightway.
(Enter Judas.)
Prithee, tell me, Sir
(You know me, doubtless, though we have not met
Of late)—what think you, Judas, in your heart
Of Jesus and his followers? Tell me truly.

Judas.
With doubting Thomas I've some sympathy:
As for the others, they're a crack-brained crew;
They gape and wonder—gape again and worship—
Their gape's so large that it can swallow down
Without an effort even the most immense
Unprecedented strange miraculous tale;
Water to wine, or olives into figs,
Palm-leaves to golden crowns—all's one to them!
In fact I pity Jesus—for he's forced
To follow along the road these madcaps take,
Though for his own part—yes, I'll do him justice—
The man whose faith in his own miracles
Is least and feeblest, is—the man himself.
If he put forward not one single deed
Of wonder, claimed no preternatural power,
His ardent followers—be you sure of that—
Would still enswathe in thaumaturgic fog
Their Master, choking in the dense damp mist
Of their obscene creation; yes indeed,
They would perform—though with less dexterous hand—
Unending miracles, if he would not—
Flood Galilee with marvel, and proclaim
Their great Messiah-conjuror come at last!

Ben-Aaron
(aside).
What could be better?—sound and vigorous thought—
Clear-headed fearless insight. (Aloud)
Listen, Judas;
I wish to know if at some future date
I can rely upon you? It may be
That I shall need your service.

Judas.
In good sooth
You may rely upon me—I can guess
Your motive too—in fact, it hardly needs
Much probing.

Ben-Aaron.
I admit it, I was sweet
Upon the girl myself—as you are sweet
To-day upon her. I'll confess as well
She quite disdained me.

Judas.
Did you think that strange?

Ben-Aaron.
Uncivil, Sir—but I can bear with you,
And I can bear with her—but not with one
Who has robbed me of her.

Judas.
No: revenge is sweet.

Ben-Aaron.
Most sweet! and I will have it. 'Tis to you
I look to aid me.

Judas.
I will aid you Master.

Ben-Aaron.
I thought as much; and, when two plot revenge,
Revenge is half accomplished. 'Twas for that
I sounded you, to know your inmost thoughts
As to this man's disciples. As to him
What think you? He can dupe the world, it seems,
But can he dupe himself?

Judas.
I cannot doubt it.

Ben-Aaron.
Does he love Mary?

Judas.
That I hardly know.
With his strange far-fetched dreams of heavenly love
What you and I call love is quite remote
From his strained upward vision.

Ben-Aaron.
Does she love him?

Judas.
I'll answer that to better purpose soon.
I think she loves him—but I think she knows
Not yet how much she loves him.

Ben-Aaron.
Do you think
She loves him yet enough to stand the siege
Of the young Roman gallants?

Judas.
Roman gallants?

Ben-Aaron.
I've been persuading her to take a step

Judas.
What step?

Ben-Aaron.
To launch herself with all her beauty
Full on Jerusalem; I think that there
She may forget this Jesus, and—perhaps—
For you and me her heart may grow more tender.

Judas.
It may be so; she knows not her own mind
As yet.

Ben-Aaron.
But she will quickly learn to know
Her own mind—trust me—at Jerusalem.
Thither all prophets go, and thither go
Fair women loved by prophets; Jesus soon,
I doubt it not, will seek the holy city:
She'll seek it too—and you and I will seek it.
The rest will follow—the eleven apostles
(I don't degrade you, friend, by counting you,
Clear-headed you, among the unsapient number!)
And all the applauding crowd, both male and female:
He'll drag half Galilee along with him.
Well—well and good—within the holy city
The play we've started shall with grand success
Achieve itself, for am I not Ben-Aaron?
Jesus has written the first act of the drama
And—here in Galilee—with touch idyllic
Depicted therein many a bright glad scene.
Mary's the heroine: lake and sky and hills
Form fitting scenery, fair Nature's background;
The eleven apostles are superb scene-shifters;
You, Judas, are the villain of the piece,
While I'm—a Satan, posing for the nonce
As ever-resourceful acting manager.
You take your cue—you see? But now the acts
That follow shall in quite a different sphere
Be played, and with fresh actors: Rome shall send
A company to join the Galileans,
And at Jerusalem the holy city
With priests to act and Pharisees and Scribes
The drama shall be brought to a fitting close.
I'll write the finish, even I Ben-Aaron,
And write it not with finicking soft touch
Like Jesus—he was well content to write
In ink—I'll write in blood.

Judas.
You really are
Superb at times; I love to listen to you!

Ben-Aaron.
Listen, and act with me—you'll surely see
I shall succeed. I never yet have failed,
When matched 'gainst man or woman.

Judas.
I believe you!
You are the devil—so you must succeed.

Ben-Aaron.
There is no devil—that is superstition.
The devil is dead, and when the devil died
I bought his commonplace-books.

Judas.
Money spent
Right well.

Ben-Aaron.
Let's lose no time.

Judas.
I'm at your service.

(Exeunt Ben-Aaron and Judas).