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 Y FRANK HARRIS- 
 
 INCLUDING 
 
 JESUS 
 
 by GEORGE BERNARD SHAW 
 
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 a 
 
 KARMfrllRARY 
 

STORIES of 
 
 Jesus the Christ 
 
 V 
 
 I ANK (HARRIS 
 
 INCLUDING 
 
 JESUS 
 
 by GEORGE BERNARD SHAW 
 
 PEARSON'S 25c LIBRARY 
 
 N EW YORK 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 St. Peter's Discovery 
 
 The Miracle of the Stigmata 5 
 
 The Holy Man 17 
 
 The King of the Jews 24 
 
 , a letter by George Bernard Shaw ... 28 
 
 / swer by Frank Harris 31 
 
 Copyright 1919 
 By Frank Harris 
 
A FOREWORD TO STORIES OF JESUS 
 
 IN my whole life 1 have cared greatly for only two 
 record of themselves in literature, 
 
 Jesus, and for the last thirty years I 
 poken of Jesus as the greatest of the s< 
 indeed wl "red the soul and e 
 
 from it and for it as higher than the reason; who in fact 
 nineteen hundred /oar- t and acted on the 
 
 which Bergson ir our time is so praised for having 
 glimpsed. 
 
 The other day 1 picked up a life of Napoleon and 
 found that in his e\ 1a he had used the very 
 
 same expression about Jesus: "He speaks from the soul," 
 he said, "as never man spoke; the soul is sufficient for him, 
 as he is sufficient for the soul. Before him the soul was 
 ing." 
 ••ar or so ago George Bernard Shaw wrote to me : "Js 
 it not strange that you, Moore and I are all occupy- 
 ing ourselves with Jesus? How do you account for this 
 perennial attraction ?" 
 
 I have tried to account for it by saying that Jesus grew 
 
 higher than other men and from the renewed interest in 
 
 -day, not in Britain alone, but in France where even 
 
 Jules Lemaitre tries to write stories about him, and in 
 
 too and Russia it seems ljjcely that at length he will 
 
 ghtly appreciated and given his true place in the 
 
 Pantheon >f Hum an it}'. 
 
 if mine induce men to think of Jesus 
 reasonably and prove to be 'not altogether unworthy of the 
 ct I shall be more than conn 
 
 Frank Harris. 
 
 ST. PETER'S DISCOVERY 
 
 ONE day Peter was greatly disturbed. He wanted 
 to lea^e the Gate of Heaven and his duties 
 there for a few minutes, so he called his brother 
 Andrew to take his place. 
 
 'r-ew was very willing to play guardian, but Peter 
 raid to leave him in charge. 
 "Mind now," he cautioned him, "don't let anyone in 
 who is not entitled to enter. Don't act on yonr own 
 judgment Ask the Recording Angel and go by his as- 
 surance only and remember that those who have a 
 right in will always get in and~ a little delay 
 
 v ni not harm them, for son of man or daughter 
 is never too humble. Take care now and make 
 :e." 
 Andrew assured Peter again and again that he 
 Arould follow his directions to the letter, and at length 
 Peter ha-' ay towards the Throne, his business 
 
On the way, he met Jesus, and after some hesitation 
 could not help unburdening his heart to him. 
 
 "'.* dreadful thing has happened, Master," he began, 
 "and I w«*r«t you to believe that I am not to blame. I 
 have been gu*n charge of the gate and have never left 
 it for a moment till now, and I pledge you my word 
 I have never lei a single person inside who has not a 
 perfectly clean sheet No one can be more grateful 
 for all the privileges ot Ileavct + han I am. You be- 
 lieve me, don't you?" 
 
 Jesus bowed his head with smiling eyes. 
 
 "I am sure, Peter, you have been an admirable 
 guardian," he sa?d, "but what is troubling you now?" 
 
 "The other day," began Peter, looking up at him 
 with sidelong intent eyes, "the other day I met a little 
 bli'nd girl whom I certainly never let into Heaven. Oh, 
 Master, Master, someone is admitting them; I can do 
 nothing and I shall be blamed for someone else's 
 fault." 
 
 Jesus put his hand on Peter's shoulder. "We do 
 not blame easily, do we, Peter? But who do you 
 thi'nk is letting them in?" 
 
 "I cannot sleep or eat for thinking of it," replied 
 Peter evasively; "please help me." 
 
 "How shall I help you?" asked Jesus. 
 
 "Come to-night at eleven o'clock when all is quiet 
 and I will show you everything." 
 
 Jesus looked at him in some surprise, but answered 
 simply: "I will be with you, Peter." 
 
 That night Peter took Jesus and guided him by the 
 hand all along the rampart to the first great bastion; 
 then he whispered to him to wait i'n the shadow and he 
 would see. And lo! a few minutes later they were 
 aware of a woman's figure close to the battlements. 
 They both saw her unwind her girdle and let it down 
 over the wall; in a few moments a little hunchbacked 
 creature clambered up, took one or two lame steps and 
 the.i cast himself down on his face before the woman 
 and began kissing the hem of her garment. 
 
 At once Jesus drew Peter away, and as they went 
 towards the gate, out of earshot, he said: "My 
 mother!" 
 
 "Yes, it i's Mary," Peter began, "and what can I do? 
 Those she lets in are all deformed like that wretched 
 hunchback; she helps only the maimed and the halt and 
 the blind; and some afflicted with bleeding, putrid 
 sores; dreadful creatures, they would shame even an 
 earthly city. But what am X to do, Master? " 
 
 "Peter, Peter!" said Jesus, and the luminous gTeat 
 eyes dwelt on him, "you and I had not even deformity 
 to plead for us — '" 
 
THE MIRACLE OF THE 
 STIGMATA 
 
 IT was after the troubles in Jerusalem that a man called 
 Joshua, a carpenter anl smith, came to Caesarea. Al- 
 most before the neighbors were aware of it, he had 
 i down in a little hut opposite the house of Simon the 
 image maker, and was working quietly at his trade. He 
 all appearances: a middle-aged Jew, with 
 features sharpened by suffering, or possibly by illness, and 
 yet in many ways he was not like a Jew: he never went 
 near a synagogue, he never argued about religion or any- 
 thing else, and he took what people gave him for his 
 work without bargaining. 
 
 To his loud, high colored, grasping compatriots he 
 seemed to be rather a poor creature; but a certain liking 
 softened their contempt of him, for his shrinking self- 
 effacement flattered vanity and disposed them in his 
 favour. And yet, now and then, when they talked with 
 most assurance and he lifted his eyes to them, they grew 
 a little uneasy: his look was more one of pity than of 
 admiration. He was a queer fellow, they decided, and 
 not easy to understand; but, as he was peculiarly retiring 
 and silent, the less agreeable impression wore away, and 
 they finally took the view of him that was most pleasing 
 to themselves, and regarded him as unimportant. 
 
 Joshua seemed to accept their indifference with humble 
 gratitude. He hardly ever left his room, and made no 
 friends, except Simon, who modelled in clay and wax 
 the little figures of the Phoenician gods. Simon had the 
 name of a rich man and he was very clever; he used 
 to paint some of his wax gods with rosy cheeks, black 
 hair and gilded lips till they looked alive, and their robes 
 were green and purple and saffron with dark shadows in 
 the f)lds so that they seemed to move. Simon took a 
 great liking to Joshua from the beginning, and did his 
 best to break down his reserve and make an intimate of 
 him. But even Simon had to content Jiimself with 
 moderate success. Joshua was always sympathetic, and 
 would listen to him for hours at a time; but he spoke 
 little, and never about himself. Simon, however, 
 used to maintain that Joshua's silence was more stimu- 
 lating than the speech of other men. 
 
 Simon's wife, Tabitha, did not take to Joshua at first; 
 she never felt at ease with him, she said, and his great 
 eyes made her flesh creep. But, as she got to know him, 
 she could not help seeing his industry and his love of 
 home and a quiet life, and, in a month or so, she sent to 
 
Joppa for her sister's daughter, Judith, who was twenty- 
 five years old, and still unmarried. It was poverty. 
 Tabitha knew, and not choice that had kept Judith single. 
 The very first night after the girl reached Csesarea the two 
 had a long talk, and Judith drank in all her aunt had to 
 tell of Joshua and his peculiarities, and accepted the cunning 
 advice of the older woman with complete submission. 
 
 "The girl is no fool," Tabitha said to herself, and be- 
 gan to take a liking to her pupil; while Judith felt that 
 Tabitha was really clever in managing men, or how could 
 she have contrived to keep her husband's affection, in 
 spite of her age and' barrenness, a thing which seemed to 
 the girl wonderful? Tabitha's advice to Judith was not 
 Id off and thus excite Joshua's desire; but to show 
 him that she liked him. 
 
 "He has been disappointed in life," Tabitha said, "and 
 wants comforting. Anyone can see he's soft and affec- 
 tionate by nature, like a girl: he will be grateful to you 
 for loving him. Trust me, I know the kind of man : 
 there was Jonas when I was young; I might have had 
 him ten times over, if I had wanted to; and James as 
 well, the rich tanner of Joppa, who married the Levite's 
 daughter. You take my advice, Judith, make up to him, 
 and you'll get him. Joshua has a lot of the woman in 
 him or I'm a fool." 
 
 Tabitha turned out to be right, though Judith did not 
 succeed as quickly as they had expected, for it was hard 
 to persuade Joshua that he was loved by anyone. 
 
 "I am old," he said, "and broken, and my house is 
 empty of hope." 
 
 But the women were patient, and, one afternoon, Simon 
 put in a warm word for Judith, and a little later the 
 wedding took place. 
 
 The marriage was not unhappy; indeed, the union of 
 the two seemed to grow intimate as time went on, and 
 nothing occurred to trouble the peace of the household, 
 except the fact that the marriage of Judith, too, was 
 barren, like the marriage of Tabitha. Now and again 
 Judith took this to heart and blamed her husband, but 
 her anger never lasted very long. Joshua had a way of 
 doing kind little things, even while he was being scolded, 
 which was hard to resist. Still Judith always felt she 
 would have thought more of him if he had turned on 
 her and mastered her, as she had seen her father master 
 her mother. 
 
 In the third year of the marriage, one Philip, a deacon, 
 came from Jerusalem, and created a good deal of excite- 
 ment and curiosity in the Jewish community. He talked 
 of miracles and a Messiah; but no one believed much 
 in him. And, as soon as he had left the town, the effect 
 
r disappears in air. 
 
 preacher, called Peter, 
 
 uning the new doctrine 
 
 to be ur Peter taught that one Jesus had 
 
 born in Bethlehem from the seed of David, and that 
 
 I by the prophets. But when 
 
 known tl supposed Messiah had been 
 
 ed in Jerusalem as a sedition-monger, the more 
 
 it among the jews grew indignant, and Peter often 
 
 found it difficult to get a hearing. Still, he was a man of 
 
 such ion that his teaching lent the 
 
 subject an interest which, strangely enough, did not die 
 
 out or even greatly diminish after he had gone away. 
 
 From time to time, too, curiosity was excited anew by all 
 
 of rumours; so when it was told about that another 
 
 apostle, Paul, had landed at Caesarea and was going to 
 
 Jews ran together to hear bim. 
 
 Judith had heard the news at Tabitha's. As soon as 
 
 she had made arrangements to go to the place of meeting, 
 
 she hurried across to her own house to dress and to. tell 
 
 Joshua. Joshua listened to her patiently as usual, but with 
 
 a troubled brow, and when his wife told him to get ready 
 
 to accompany them, to her amazement he said that he 
 
 could not go, and, when she pressed him and insisted, 
 
 he shook his head. In the years they had lived together, 
 
 he had hardly refused her anything, and he had never 
 
 gone against her wishes at any time without explaining 
 
 and pleading as if he were in fault; so Judith was doubly 
 
 determined to get her own way now. After asking once 
 
 more tor his reasons, she declared that he must go with 
 
 her: 
 
 "It's seldom I ask you anything, and it is very dull here. 
 
 must come." 
 
 pained him to refuse her, and, seeing this, she 
 ! about the wretched loneliness of her life, and, at 
 last, wept iloud over her poverty and childlessness. 
 Joshua comforted her and wiped her eyes, but did not 
 and, in this plight, Simon and Tabitha found them, 
 much to Judith's annoyance. Simon took in the position 
 at once, and, in his good-humoured way, soon settled 
 the difficulty. 
 
 me on, Judith," he said; "you know you would not 
 
 like him so much if he were not a stay-at-home, and 
 
 it is not flattering to cry when you have me and Tabitha 
 
 for company"; and without further ado he took the 
 
 n away with him. 
 
 When they returned that evening, Judith seemed like 
 
 a new creature ; her cheeks were red and her eyes glowed, 
 
 \ cited, as one is excited with the new 
 
For hours she talked to Joshua about Paul and all he had 
 said: 
 
 "He is the most wonderful man in the • le de- 
 
 clared ; *'not big nor handsome ; small, indeed, and ordi- 
 nary.looking, but, as soon as he begins to speak, he seems 
 to grow before your eyes. I never heard anyone talk 
 as he talks : you cannot help believing him ; he is like 
 one inspired." 
 
 So she went on, while Joshua, from time to time, raised 
 his eyes to her in surprise. In spite of her excitement 
 she answered his mute questioning: 
 
 "If you once heard him, you would have to believe him. 
 He began by saying that he came to preach Christ and 
 Him crucified. You know how everyone is ashamed to 
 speak of the crucifixion. Paul began with it; it was the 
 crowning proof, he said (what beautiful words!) that 
 Jesus was indeed the Messiah. For Jesus was crucified, 
 and lay three days in the grave, and then came to life 
 again and was seen of many. This is the chief doctrine of 
 the new creed; we shall all have to die with Jesus to 
 the things of the flesh, Paul says, in order to rise again 
 with Him to everlasting life." 
 
 She spoke slowly, but with much feeling, and then, 
 clasping her hands, she cried : 
 
 "Oh, it is true; I feel it is all true!" 
 
 "But did Jesus die?" Joshua asked. "I mean," he went 
 on hesitatingly, "did Paul try to prove that?" 
 
 "No, indeed," replied Judith. "Everyone knows that a 
 man is not crucified by the Romans and allowed to live." 
 
 "But Jesus was not a criminal to the Romans," Joshua 
 remarked quietly ; "perhaps they took less care in his case." 
 
 "Oh, that's foolish," Judith retorted. "Of course, He 
 was dead; they don't bury men who are alive." 
 
 "But sometimes," Joshua went on, "men are thought to 
 be dead who have only fainted. Jesus is said to have died 
 on the Cross in a few hours; and that, you know, 
 i very strange; the crucified generally live for two or 
 three days." 
 
 "I've no patience with you!" cried Judith. "All your 
 doubts come from your dislike of religion. If you had more 
 piety, you would not go on like that; and, if you once 
 heard Paul preach, you would know, you would feel in 
 your heart, that he was filled with the very Spirit of God. 
 He talks of Jesus beautifully." 
 
 "Did he know Jesus?" asked Joshua. "He was not 
 one of the disciples, was he?" 
 
 "Oh, no," she said. "He made himself famous by per- 
 secuting the followers of Jesus. For a long time, he 
 went everywhere, informing against them and throwing 
 them into prison. He told us all about it : it is a wonder- 
 
 8 
 
ful story. He was going up to Damascus once to per- 
 secute the Christians— that's what they are ailed now— 
 when suddenly, in the road, a great light sho:. ! upon him, 
 and he fell to the ground, while a voice from htiven cried : 
 
 " 'Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me ?' 
 
 "The voice was the voice of Jesus. Paul was Dlind for 
 three days in Damascus, and only got his sight again 
 through the prayers of one of the Christians. Isn't it 'all — 
 beautiful?" 
 
 "It may have been the sun," said Joshua slowly, "the 
 noonday sun; his blindness afterwards seems to show 
 that it was sunstroke." 
 
 "But the voice," said Judith, "the voice which came 
 from heaven, and which the others didn't hear, that wasn't 
 
 4 sunstroke, I suppose?" 
 "The others didn't hear the voice," repeated Joshua, as 
 if he were speaking to himself; "perhaps then it was 
 the voice of his own soul, wounded by those persecutions." 
 
 "Oh, you're hateful," cried Judith, "with your stupid 
 explanations. I can't see what pleasure you find in them, 
 myself. Besides, they hurt me, for I Relieve in Paul. 
 Yes, I do," she added passionately; "he is as God to me"; 
 and. after a pause, she said : 
 
 "I'm going with Tabitha to-morrow to see Paul: I want 
 to be baptised and to become a Christian, as Paul is." 
 
 Joshua shook his head and cast down his eyes in doubt 
 and sorrow, but Judith turned from him: she had said 
 what she wanted to say. 
 
 The next morning, Simon and Tabitha came over early, 
 
 and they all talked of the effect of Paul's preaching: half 
 
 the Jews in Caesarea had been converted already, Judith 
 
 said, and hundreds were going to be baptised at once. 
 
 ha confirmed this, and hoped that Simon, too, would 
 
 follow the good example. Simon, however, said that, for 
 
 -irt, he meant to wait: he would hear more, and do 
 
 ng rashly; but he did not wonder that the women 
 
 were persuaded, for Paul was very eloquent. 
 
 "He's ugly," he went on. ("Oh no I" cried Judith, "he's 
 glorious!") "I think him very ugly," Simon persisted; 
 "but his face gets hold of you : he's nearly bald, with a 
 long beaked nose and thick black beard; but his eyes are 
 wonderful ; they blaze and grow soft and weep and his 
 voice changes with his eyes till your very soul is taken 
 out of you. His teaching, too, is astonishing. 
 
 "You see," he continued, "Paul's idea that the kingdom 
 promised to us Jews is to be a spiritual kingdom, a king- 
 dom of righteousness, and not a mateilal kingdom, seems 
 to me good. It is practicable at least, and that's some- 
 thing. And this Jesus of whom Paul preaches must have 
 nn extraordinary being, greater than the prophets, 
 
greater even than Elias. He used to say, 'My kingdom is 
 not of this world,' and he went about with the poor and the 
 prostitutes and the afflicted. Did you ever happen to see 
 him in Jerusalem?" 
 
 Joshua kept his eyes or. the ground, and after a time 
 replied in a low voice : 
 
 "He wasn't much in Jerusalem." 
 
 Day by day, the agitation spread and spread, like a 
 in the rains, till it looked as if there were no limit to 
 Paul's power of persuading the Jews. Conversion followed 
 conversion ; the meetings grew larger and larger, the in- 
 terest in what he said more and more intense, till, af 
 length, nearly all the Jews in Caesarea had become follow- 
 ers of the Nazarene. The excitement caught in the 
 quarters of the city. The Phoenician fisherman and some 
 landsfolk began to come to the meetings, and, every now 
 and then, some Roman soldiers, and here and there a 
 centurion ; but these more out of curiosity than emotion. 
 
 As Tabitha and Judith had been among the earliest 
 converts, it was only natural that their zeal should grow 
 when they found their example followed by the priests 
 and Levites and other leaders of the people. It was 
 natural, too, that Judith should continue to press Joshua 
 to give the new doctrine at least a fair hearing, as Simon 
 had done, to his soul's salvation, but Joshua remained 
 obstinate. One evening, however, Judith's patience was 
 rewarded. They were all talking at Simon's house, and, 
 at length, Judith quoted some words of Paul on Charity : 
 
 "Charity sufrereth long, and is kind; is not easily pro- 
 voked ; thinketh no evil . . . beareth all things, be- 
 lieveth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things." 
 
 As she paused, Joshua looked at her for a moment and 
 then said, simply : 
 
 "I will go with you to-morrow to hear Paul." 
 
 And then they were all glad, and gave thanks unto God. 
 
 On the morrow, when they drew near the meeting- 
 place, they found themselves in a great crowd of Jews. 
 for the doors of the building had been closed by reason 
 of the multitude. Everyone was talking about the new 
 doctrine. 
 
 "I like Paul," .said one, "because he is a Hebrew of the 
 Hebrews, and aforetime a Pharisee." 
 
 "Ah !" cried another. " Do you remember that splendid 
 thing he said yesterday, 'If thine enemy hunger, feed him; 
 if he thirst, give him drink, for so thou shalt heap c< 
 fire on his head.' Ha! ha! ha! 'Coals of fire'! That was 
 great, eh?" 
 
 "And true, too !" exclaimed a friend. 
 
 "And new !" cried another. 
 
 10 
 
And the men embraced each other, while their 
 shone with conqu' v.ng enthusiasm. Joshua plucked 
 Simon by the garnv 
 
 "Do you hear?" 
 
 "Yes," said Simon impatiently, for the prevailing ex- 
 citement was exciting him, and he didn't like the inter- 
 ruption; "of course, I hear." 
 
 Then a red Jew, with head of flame and beard of gold, 
 started forward, and uplifting his hand, cried. 
 
 "What I liked best in his last speech was what he said 
 against backsliders and those who excite doubt by vain 
 disputations; and, above all, that great word of the Mes- 
 siah: 'He that is not with me is against me, and he that 
 gathereth not with me, scattereth abroad.'" x 
 
 The man thundered out the words as if he were defy- 
 ing the world. 
 
 Again Joshua plucked Simon by the garment, and, 
 when Simon turned to him, he saw that the carpenter's 
 face was pale, and tears stood in his eyes. 
 
 "What is it, Joshua?" he asked. 
 
 Joshua tried to speak, but could not for a moment, and, 
 when at length he had drawn Simon a little apart, all 
 that he was able to say was : 
 
 "Do you hear what they say?" 
 
 "Of course, I hear," said Simon crossly, for he had 
 enjoyed the vivid, impassioned talk; "but what of that? 
 What is the matter with you?" 
 
 And Joshua asked: 
 
 "Are these men true witnesses? Does Paul indeed 
 teach these things?" 
 
 Simon answered shortly : 
 
 "Yes: I suppose so." 
 
 Joshua looked at him regretfully, and said : 
 
 "I must go, Simon ; I could not listen to Paul. He 
 does not speak as Jesus spoke ; I must go." 
 
 But Simon was impatient. 
 
 "Nonsense." I "what do you know of Jesus that 
 
 you should contradict His apostle?" 
 ! Joshua made answer: 
 
 "I know what Jesus taught; and this is not his tea 
 I rememrn 'He that is not ag 
 
 ached love, Si; 
 and this man 1 must go!" 
 
 Simon shrugged his shoulders and threw out by way 
 of warning: 
 
 "Judith will be very angry!" 
 
 But. at that moment. 
 josht. 
 
 of the human 
 filled the build 
 
From that day on, Judith took no pains to hide her 
 coolness toward her husband. And even to Simon, Joshua 
 seemed unreasonable; he would not listen now to any talk 
 about Paul; the mere mention of Paul's name seemed to 
 pain and distress him; and, as Judith went oftener and 
 oftener to Paul's preaching, the rift between her and her 
 husband widened from day to day. 
 
 At last the disagreement came to speech. One after- 
 noon, after sitting still for a long time watching her 
 husband at work fashioning a cattle-yoke, Judith said : 
 
 "I want to speak to you ; I must speak to you." 
 
 Joshua leant on the tool he was using and paused to 
 hear what she had to say, and she began : 
 
 "It is very hard for me to say it, but I must. You are 
 the only lew in Csesarea who has hardened his heart 
 and refused even to listen to the teaching of Jesus, and 
 that has hurt m«e. Now Paul is going away, and — and — 
 he asked us before he left to write down any question we 
 wished to have answered; so that his absence might not 
 be so much felt." 
 
 She paused here, and seemed to grow a little confused, 
 but, gathering courage, went on: 
 
 "I — I asked him something. I asked him," and she 
 lifted her eyes to her husband boldly, "I asked him 
 whether it was right to live with an unbeliever, one who 
 would not even listen to the truth or hear it; and he 
 answered me " 
 
 She paused, looking down, and Joshua gazed at her 
 with wistful eyes, but said nothing, and at length she be- 
 gan again: 
 
 "He answered me yesterday, and I remember every 
 word he said: 'Be ye not unequally yoked together with 
 unbelievers, for what fellowship hath righteousness with 
 unrighteousness, and what communion hath light with 
 darkness ' " 
 
 She recited the words with a certain exaltation, and, as 
 her voice rose defiantly over the last syllables, she looked 
 up at her husband as if she expected to meet his anger; 
 but she was mistaken. His eyes were full of unshed tears, 
 and, resenting his want of spirit, she rang out: 
 
 "' and what concord hath Christ with Belial?'" 
 
 After a long pause, Joshua spoke : 
 
 "Can this indeed be Paul," he asked, with a sort of 
 sorrowful wonder, "who calls himself the follower of 
 Jesus; yet denies his teaching? 
 
 "'Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers,' 
 Paul says; but Jesus would have said, 'Be ye unequally 
 yoked together with unbelievers,' for faith is stronger than 
 doubt, as light is stronger than darkness." 
 
 "Oh, no," cried Judith, starting up; "it is not true. 
 
 12 
 
Paul says, 'Be ye separate and touch not the unclean thing, 
 and I will receive you.' " 
 
 As she spoke, Joshua stretched out his hands to her 
 beseechingly. 
 
 "Ah, Judith, that is not the teaching of love; and 
 Jesus came into the world to teach love, and nothing else. 
 Paul has made doctrines of belief and rules of conduct; 
 but Jesus wanted nothing but love : love that is more than 
 righteousness. ... He may have been mistaken," he 
 went on in a voice broken by extreme emotion; "He 
 trusted God, cried to Him in his extremity, hoping for 
 instant help — in vain. ... He was forsaken, cruelly 
 forsaken, and all his life's work undone. But he was 
 not wrong, surely, in preaching love to men — love tl 
 the life of the soul." 
 
 He spoke with an impassioned tenderness; but Judith 
 broke in, her eyes narrowing with question and suspicion: 
 
 "What do you know of Jesus and what He said? You 
 never spoke to me about Him before. Did you know Him 
 in Jerusalem ?" 
 
 Johsua hesitated, and his eyes fell; then he said: 
 
 "I know His teaching," and he went on hurriedly : "But 
 all this is only words, isn't it, Judith? Surely," and his 
 voice trembled, "you would not. leave me after all these 
 years of happiness for what a stranger says?" 
 
 "What Paul says is always right," she retorted coolly. 
 
 Joshua stretched out his hands to her in hopeless appeal : 
 "Ah, Judith, why give pain; why add to that mist of 
 human tears that already veils the beauty of the world?" 
 
 Judith replied solemnly: "Paul says thai* we only 
 come to peace by leaving the lower for the higher way; 
 no earthly ties should fetter us who are called to the 
 service of the divine Master: I shall find a nobler sat- 
 isfaction in the new life." 
 
 As she spoke, Joshua's face grew drawn and. pale, and 
 in alarm she cried: 
 
 "What is it? Are you ill?" 
 
 "No," he replied, "I am not ill." 
 
 But he sat down and covered his face with his hands. 
 After a while she touched him, and he looked up with un- 
 utterable sadness in his eyes. 
 
 "How can I blame you — how?" and he sighed deeply. 
 "I, too, left my mother and my brethren, in obedience to 
 what I thought was the higher bidding; but, oh, 
 had my life to live over again, I don't think T should act 
 in the same way. I must have hurt my mother, and if 
 seems to me now that the higher love ought to include 
 the lower and not exclude it. I should be more " 
 
 Again she interrupted him: 
 
 "Paul says hesitation is itself a fault; but I h. 
 
 13 
 
idea that you felt so much or cared for me so much." 
 
 Her tone was gentUr, and he replied, with a brave 
 attempt at smiling: 
 
 "I have had no life, Judith, so peaceful and happy as 
 my life here with you." 
 
 Judith answered: 
 
 "You never say anything, so it is hard to believe you 
 feel much." 
 
 This brought the talk to sympathy and intimacy, and, 
 for a while, there was peace between them. 
 
 A little later, Paul held his last meeting. Before taking 
 ship he preached once in the open air, on the foreshore 
 where water and land meet; and, of course, Judith was by 
 his side. He spoke with heavy sadness of the parting, and 
 with pride of those, his brothers and sisters, who would, 
 he knew, remain faithful until the present coming of Christ. 
 His words moved the people to tears and new resolutions ; 
 for they all sorrowed bitterly, fearing to lose him for- 
 ever. . . . 
 
 The next day, when Joshua got up in the morning, 
 Judith was nowhere to be found. He called her, but 
 she did not answer; she was not in the house; he went 
 across to Tabitha, and Tabitha could only tell him that 
 Judith had resolved not to live with him any more and 
 that she had gone back for a time to Joppa. 
 
 Joshua returned to his empty house and as soon as he 
 had closed the door his loneliness and misery came 
 him in a flood and he stretched forth his hands crying 
 in bitterness of soul : 
 
 "But why this cup, oh, Lord? why?" 
 
 Months passed. Judith returned to Caesarea and dwelt 
 again with Tabitha; but, in spite of the reproaches of 
 Simon, she refused to cross the road to see Joshua, and, 
 as Joshua scarcely ever left his house, some time elapsed 
 before they met. One morning, however, as Joshua was 
 returning home from the market, Judith hurried out of 
 Simon's house on her way to a meeting, and the two 
 came face to face. They both stopped for a moment, and 
 ■then Joshua, in divine pity and tenderness, forgiving every- 
 thing, went toward his wife with outstretched hands; but 
 Judith put her hands before her face, and turned her head 
 aside, as if she didn't want to see him; and, when he still 
 came towards her, she hastened back into the house with- 
 out a word. After waiting a while in 'the road, Joshua 
 went slowly into his house with downcast eyes. Neither 
 of them, the" knew that they had seen each other in life 
 for the last time. 
 
 14 
 
cr many days, Paul came again to Qesaraa, on his 
 way to Jerusalem; and, once again, ail Caesarea thronged 
 to hear the man whom everyone now recognised as the 
 st of the apostles. As before, both Tabitha and 
 Judith were diligent at the meetings, and Judith in es- 
 pecial was treated by Paul with great tenderness, as one 
 :iad suffered much for the faith. 
 
 ning, Simon came in and told the women to go 
 hat had happened to Joshua; for he had not 
 opened his door for two days, and was probably ill. The 
 women went across and found Joshua. He had fallen 
 by his bench, and was already cold; they could not lift 
 him, and they came back to Simon, crying. Simon was 
 angry with them, and said to Judith: 
 
 "He was too good for you, and so you left hm. Paul 
 says: 'Our faithful Judith,' and that's enough for you. 
 Pish!" 
 
 Simon was too rich, Judith felt, ever to be a good 
 Christian ; but this time she bore his rebuke, for she 
 needed his assistance. Simon went over with them, and 
 helped to lift Joshua and lay him out straight on his bed, 
 and there he left him to the care of the women. 
 
 Tabitha and Judith got clean linen and began to wash 
 
 the body. Suddenly, Tabitha cried out: 
 
 "Judith, lookl What arcthese marks on his hands?" 
 
 And she turned the palm of the right hand to Judith, 
 
 the whole palm was drawn together to a puckered 
 
 white cicatrix in the middle. 
 
 "Oh, that is nothing," Judith replied; "an accident that 
 
 to him in Jerusalem." 
 Tabitha repeated: 
 
 n accident? How strange I" 
 A moment later, she cried again : 
 
 th ! The same marks are in his feet." 
 Judith started. 
 
 "Feet?" And then: "I never knew that. They used 
 not to be there I am sure, or — oh 1" she cried, as a new 
 thought struck her, "perhaps they were covered by the 
 sandal-strap; he never could walk far, you'know." 
 
 he spoke, staring and puzzled, Tabitha snatched the 
 sheet from the body, and, pointing, said : : 
 
 k! in his side as well," and then, in an awed whisper: 
 "the Stigmata— the Holy Stigmata 1" 
 
 Judith's lips framed the words, too, but she was unable 
 to speak. When she came to herself, she said: 
 
 "Oh, Tabitha, let us go and tell Paul," and they hurried 
 to the house where Paul dwelt, and, in a few words, told 
 him the whole matter; and at once Paul set off, with all 
 those who were with him, to the house of Joshua. 
 
 e to the house and had entered in, and 
 
 15 
 
had seen the marks on Joshua's hands and in his feet and 
 in his side, Paul turned swiftly to those standing by, and, 
 holding up his hands, cried: 
 
 "Lo, a great work has been wrought to-day in Israeli" 
 
 And all who were with him shouted : 
 
 "A miracle 1 A miracle 1" 
 
 And Paul began to speak, and, while he spoke, the Jews 
 in Caesarea gathered about the house, and convinced them- 
 selves of the miracle that had been wrought on their 
 behalf. And Paul went on preaching as one filled with 
 the Spirit and with triumph in his voice, and soon the 
 news spread to the port, and the Phoenician fishermen 
 came and saw the wonder, and the Roman soldiers, and all 
 listened now to Paul's words and were converted by him. 
 For everyone knew that this Joshua, though a Jew, had 
 not followed the ne*y teaching, and that he had been as 
 Paul said he was, the last unbeliever in Caesarea, and 
 because of his unbelief, as Paul declared, and for a sign 
 to the whole world, the Stigmata of Jesus the Crucified 
 had been put upon him, and, indeed, the Stigmata were 
 there, plain to be seen by everyone, in his hands and feet 
 and side. And all the inhabitants of Caesarea, and of the 
 parts round about, were converted and turned to the Lord 
 through the preaching of Paul, and through the miracle 
 of the Stigmata that had been wrought on the body of the 
 last unbeliever in Caesarea. 
 
 16 
 
THE HOLY MAN 
 
 (After Tolstoi) 
 
 PAUL, the eldest son of Count Stroganoff, was only 
 thirty-two when he was made a Bishop: he was the 
 youngest dignitary in the Greek Church, yet his 
 diocese was among the largest: it extended for hundreds 
 of miles along the shore of the Caspian. Even as a youth 
 Paul had astonished people by his sincerity and gentleness, 
 and the honours paid to him seemed to increase his lov- 
 able qualit 
 
 Shortly after his induction he set out to visit his whole 
 diocese in order to learn the needs of the people. On this 
 pastoral tour he took with him two older priests in the 
 hope that he might profit by their experience. After many 
 disappointments he was forced to admit that they could 
 only be used as aids to memory, or as secretaries; for 
 they could not even understand his passionate enthusiasm. 
 The life of Christ was the model the young Bishop set 
 before himself, and he took joy in whatever pain or 
 fatigue his ideal involved. His two priests thought it un- 
 becoming in a Bishop to work so hard and to be so care- 
 less of "dignity and state," by which they meant ease and 
 good living. At first they grumbled a good deal at the 
 work, and with apparent reason, for, indeed, the Bishop 
 forgot himself in his mission, and as the tour went on his 
 body seemed to waste away in the fire of his zeal. 
 
 After he had come to the extreme southern point of his 
 diocese he took ship and began to work his way north 
 along the coast, in order to visit all the fishing villages. 
 
 One afternoon, after a hard morning's work, he was 
 seated on deck resting. The little ship lay becalmed a 
 long way from the shore, for the water was shallow and 
 the breeze had died down in the heat of the day. 
 
 There had been rain-clouds over the land, but suddenly 
 the sun came out hotly and the Bishop caught sight of some 
 roofs glistening rosy-pink in the sunshine a long way off. 
 
 "What place is that?" he asked the Captain. 
 
 "Krasnavodsk, I think it is called," replied the Captain 
 after some hesitation, "a little nest between the moun- 
 tains and the sea ; a hundred souls perhaps in all." 
 
 (Men are commonly called "souls" in Russia as they are 
 d "hands" in England.) 
 
 "One hundred souls," repeated the Bishop, "shut away 
 from the world; I must visit Krasnavodsk." 
 
 The priests shrugged their shoulders but said nothing; 
 they knew it was no use objecting or complaining. But 
 <!:e Captain came to ti 
 
"It's twenty-live versts away," he said, "and the sailors 
 are done up. You'll be able to get in easily enough but 
 coming out again against the sea-breeze will take hard 
 rowing." 
 
 "To-morrow is Sunday," rejoined the Bishop, "and the 
 sailors will be able to rest all day. Please, Captain, tell 
 them to get out the boat. I wouldn't ask for myself," he 
 added in a low voice. 
 
 The Captain understood ; the boat was got out, and under 
 her little lug-sail reached the shore in a couple of hours. 
 
 Lermontoff, the big helmsman, stepped at once ; .nto the 
 shallow water, and carried the Bishop on his back up 
 the beach, so that he shouldn't get wet. The two priests 
 got to land as best they could. 
 
 At the first cottage the Bishop asked an old man, who 
 was cutting sticks, where the church was. 
 
 "Church," repeated the peasant, "there isn't one." 
 
 "Haven't you any pope, any priest here?" enquired the 
 Bishop. 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 "Surely," replied the Bishop, "you have some one here 
 who visits the dying and prays with them* some one who 
 attends to the sick — women and children?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," cried the old man, straightening himself ; "we 
 have a holy man." 
 
 "Holy man?" repeated the Bishop, "who is he?" 
 
 "Oh, a good man, a saint," replied the old peasant, "he 
 does everything for anyone in need." 
 
 "Is he a Christian?" 
 
 "I don't think so," the old man rejoined, shaking his 
 head. "I never heard that name." 
 
 "Do you pay him for his services?" asked the Bishop. 
 
 "No, no," was the reply, "he would not take anything." 
 
 "How does he live?" the Bishop probed further. 
 
 "Like the rest of us, he works in his little garden." 
 
 'Show me where he lives: will you?" said the Bishop 
 gently, and at once the old man put down his axe and led 
 the way among the scattered huts. 
 
 In a few moments they came to the cottage standing in 
 a square of cabbages. It was just like the other cottages 
 in the village, poverty-stricken and weather-worn, wearing 
 its patches without thought of concealment. 
 
 The old man opened the door: 
 
 "Some visitors for you, Ivanushka," he said, standing 
 aside to let the Bishop and his priests pass in. 
 
 The Bishop saw before him a broad, thin man of about 
 sixty, dressed half like a peasant, half like a fisherman; 
 he wore the usual sheepskin and high fisherman's boots. 
 The only noticeable thing in his appearance was the way 
 his silver hair and beard contrasted with the dark tan 
 
 18 
 
of his skin; his eyes were cl and steady. 
 
 "Come in, Excellency," he said, "come in," and he 
 hastily dusted a stool with his sleeve for the Bishop and 
 placed it for him with a low bow. 
 
 "Thank you," sai£ the Bishop, taking the seat, "I am 
 somewhat tired, and the rest will be grateful. But be 
 ', too," he added, for the "holy men" was standing 
 e him bowed in an attitude of respectful attention, 
 ut a word Ivan drew up a stool and sat down. 
 "I was surprised," the Bishop began, "to find you have no 
 church here, and no priest; the peasant who showed us 
 iy did not even know what 'Christian' meant." 
 The holy man looked at him with his patient eyes, but 
 nothing, so the Bishop went on: 
 ou're a Christian: are you not?" 
 
 have not heard that name before," said the holy 
 lan. 
 The Bishop lifted his eyebrows in surprise. 
 
 iy then do you attend to the poor and ailing in their 
 »ed?" he argued; "why do you help them?" 
 The holy man looked at him for a moment, and then 
 ; plied quietly: 
 "I was helped when I was young and needed it." 
 "But what religion have you?" asked the Bishop. 
 
 !igion," the old man repeated, wonderingly, "what is 
 r ligion?" 
 
 "We call ourselves Christians," the Bishop began, "be- 
 c use Jesus, the founder of our faith, was called Christ, 
 was the Son of God, and came down from heaven 
 Gospel of Good Tidings; He taught men that 
 were the children of God, and that God is love." 
 The face of the old man lighted up and he leaned for- 
 me about Him, please." 
 The Bishop told him the story of Jesus, and when he 
 to the end the old man cried : 
 at a beautiful story! I've never heard or imagined 
 i story." 
 "I intend," said the Bishop, "as soon as I get home again, 
 tid you a priest, and he will establish a church here 
 you can worship God, and he will teach you the 
 e story of the suffering and death of the divine 
 ter." 
 "That will be good of you," cried the old man, warmly, 
 
 shall be very glad to welcome him." 
 The Bishop was touched by the evident sincerity of his 
 
 er. 
 "Before I go," he said, "and I shall have to go soon, 
 (ecause it will take us some hours to get out to the ship 
 
 19 
 
again, I should like to tell you the prayer that Jesus 
 taught His disciples." 
 
 "I should like very much to hear it," the old man 
 said quietly. 
 
 "Let us kneel down then," said the Bishop, "as a sign 
 of reverence, and repeat it after me, for we are all 
 brethren together inithe love of the Master"; and saying 
 this he knelt down, and the old man immediately knelt 
 down beside him and clasped his hands as the Bishop 
 clasped his and repeated the sentences as they dropped 
 from the Bishop's lips-. 
 
 "Our Fattier, which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name." 
 
 When the old man had repeated the words, the Bishop 
 went on: 
 
 "Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth as it 
 is in heaven." 
 
 The fervour with which the old man recited the words 
 "Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven" was really 
 touching. 
 
 The Bishop continued: 
 
 "Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our 
 debts, 1 as we forgive our debtors." 
 
 "Give . . . give ," repeated the old man, having 
 
 apparently forgotten the words. 
 
 "Give us this day our daily bread," repeated the Bishop, 
 "and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors." 
 
 "Give and forgive," said the old man at length. . . . 
 "Give and forgive," he repeated, and the Bishop fearing 
 that his memory was weak took up the prayer again : 
 
 "And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from 
 evil." 
 
 Again the old man repeated the words with an astonish- 
 ing fervour, "And lead us not into temptation, but deliver 
 us from evil." 
 
 And the Bishop concluded : 
 
 "For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, 
 for ever. Amen." 
 
 The old man's voice had an accent of loving and pas- 
 sionate sincerity as he said, 'Tor thine is the kingdom, 
 and the power, and the beauty, for ever and ever. Amen." 
 
 The Bishop rose to his feet and his host followed his 
 example, and when he held out his hand the old man 
 clasped it in both his, saying: 
 
 "How can I ever thank you for telling me that beautiful 
 story of Christ; how can I ever thank you enough for 
 teaching me His prayer?" 
 
 As one in an ecstasy he repeated the words: "Thy 
 kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth as ir is in 
 heaven. . . ." 
 
 Touched by his reverent, heartfelt sincerity, the Bishop 
 
 1 Matthew* s account 
 20 
 
treated him with great kindness; he put his hand on his 
 shoulder and said: 
 
 "As soon as I get back I will send you a priest, who 
 will t more, much more than I have had time 
 
 to teach you ; he will indeed tell you all you want to know 
 of our religion — the love by which we live, the hope in 
 which we it ." Before he could stop him the old man 
 had bent his head and kissed the Bishop's hand ; and tears 
 stood in his eyes as he did him reverence. 
 
 He ace unpanied the Bishop to the water's edge, and, 
 seeing the Bishop hesitate on the brink waiting for the 
 steersman to carry him to the boat, the "holy man" stooped 
 and took the Bishop in his arms and strode with him 
 through the water and put him gently on the cushioned 
 seat in the sternsheets as if he had been a little child, 
 much to the surprise of the Bishop and of Lermontoff, 
 who said as if to himself: 
 
 "That fellow's as strong as a young man." 
 
 For a long time after the boat had left the shore the 
 old man stood on the beach waving his hands to the 
 Bishop and his companions; but when they were well out 
 to sea, on the second tack, he turned and went up to his 
 cottage and disappeared from their sight. 
 
 A little later the Bishop, turning to his priests, said: 
 
 "What an interesting experience! What a wonderful 
 old man! Didn't you notice how fervently he said the 
 Lord's Praye 
 
 "Yes," replied the younger priest indifferently, "he was 
 trying to show off, I thought." 
 
 "No, no," cried the Bishop. "His sincerity was manifest 
 and his goodness, too. Did you notice that he said 'give 
 and forgive' instead of just repeating the words? And if 
 you think of it, 'give us this day our daily bread and for- 
 give us our debts as we forgive our debtors' seems a little 
 like a bargain. I'm not sure that the simple word 'give 
 and forgive' is not better, more in the spirit of Jesus?" 
 
 The younger priest shrugged his shoulders as if the 
 question had no interest for him. 
 
 "Perhaps that's what the old man meant?" questioned 
 the Bishop after a pause. 
 
 But as neither of the priests answered him, he went on, 
 as if thinking aloud: 
 
 "At the end again he used the word *beauty' for 'glory.' 
 I wonder was that unconscious? In any case an extra- 
 ordinary man and good, I am sure, out of sheer kindness 
 and sweetness of nature, as many men are good in Russia. 
 
 21 
 
No wonder our moujiks call it 'Holy Russia'; no wonder 
 when you can find men like that." 
 
 "They are as ignorant as pigs," cried the other priest, 
 "not a soul in the village, can either read or write: they 
 are heathens, barbarians. ''"They've never even heard of 
 Christ and don't know what religion means." 
 
 The Bishop looked at him and said nothing; seemingly 
 he preferred his own thoughts. 
 
 It was black night when they came to the ship, and at 
 once they all went to their cabins to sleep; for the day 
 had been very tiring. 
 
 The Bishop had been asleep perhaps a couple of hours 
 when he was awakened by the younger priest shaking him 
 and saying: 
 
 "Come on deck quickly, quickly, Excellency, something 
 extraordinary's happening, a light on the sea and no one 
 can make out what it is 1" 
 
 "A light," exclaimed the Bishop, getting out of bed 
 and beginning to draw on his clothes. 
 
 "Yes, a light on the water," repeated the priest; "but 
 come quickly, please; the Captain sent me for you." 
 
 When the Bishop reached the deck, the Captain was 
 standing with his night-glass to his eyes, looking over the 
 waste of water to leeward, where, indeed, a light could 
 be seen flickering close to the surface of the sea; it appeared 
 to be a hundred yards ^r so away. 
 
 "What is it?"* cried the Bishop, astonished by the fact 
 that all the sailors had crowded round and were staring 
 at the light. 
 
 "What is it?" repeated the Captain gruffly, for he was 
 greatly moved; "it's a man with a grey beard; he has a 
 lantern in his right hand, and he's walking on the water." 
 
 "But no one can walk on the water," said the Bishop 
 gently. "It would be a miracle," he added, in a tone of 
 remonstrance. 
 
 "Miracle or not," retorted the Captain, taking the glass 
 from his eyes, "that's what I see,, and the man'll be here 
 soon, for he's coming towards us. Look, you," and he 
 handed the glass to one of the sailors as he spoke. 
 
 The light still went on swaying about as if indeed it were 
 being carried in the hand of a man. The sailor had 
 hardly put the night-glass to his eyes, when he cried out: 
 
 "That's what it is ! — a man walking on the water . . . 
 it's the 'holy man' who carried your Excellency on board 
 the boat this afternoon." 
 
 "God help us !" cried the priests, crossing themselves. 
 
 "He'll be here in a moment or two," added the sailor, 
 "he's coming quickly," and, indeed, almost at once the old 
 
 22 
 
man came to them from the water and stepped over the 
 low bulwark on to the deck. 
 
 At this the priests went down on their knees, thinking it 
 was some miracle, and the sailors, including the Captain, 
 heir example, leaving th< Kishop standing awe- 
 stricken and uncertain in their midst. 
 
 The "holy man" came forward, and. stretching out his 
 hands, said : 
 
 "I'm afraid I cellency: but soon 
 
 after you left me, 1 found I had forgotten part of that 
 beautiful prayer, and I could not bear you to go away 
 and think me careless of all you had taught me, and so I 
 came I i to help my memory just once more. . . . 
 
 • '"member the first part of the prayer and the last 
 words as if I had been hearing it all my life and knew 
 it in my soul, but the middle has escaped me. . . . 
 
 "I remember 'Our Father, which art in heaven, Hal- 
 lowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be 
 done in earth as it is in heaven,' and then all I can re- 
 member is, 'Give and id the end, 'And lead us 
 nut into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine 
 is the kingdom, and the power and the beauty for ever 
 and ever. Amen." 
 
 "But I've forgotten some die: won't 
 
 you tell me the middle again?" 
 
 "How did you come to us?" asked the Bishop in awed 
 wonderment. "How did you walk on the wait 
 
 "Oh, that's easy," replied the old man, "anyone can 
 do that; whatever you love and trust in this world loves 
 you in return. We love the water that makes everything 
 pure and sweet for us, and is never tired of cleansing, and 
 the water loves us in return ; anyone can walk on it ; but 
 won't you teach me that beautiful prayer, the prayer 
 Jesus taught His disciples?" 
 
 The Bishop shoo 1 . 1, and in a low voice, as if 
 
 to himself, said : 
 
 "I don't think I can teach you anything about Jesus the 
 t. You know a great deal already. T only wish " 
 
 
THE KING OF THE JEWS 
 
 THE PERSONS 
 Hushim. A woman of the tribe of Benjamin; wife of 
 Simon and mother of his two sons, Alexander and 
 Rufus. 
 Simon. Of Cyrene, who owns a field in the country out- 
 side Jerusalem, on the way to Bethel. 
 The Scene: Jerusalem 
 Time: The First Hour on the day of Preparation. 
 
 Hushim. Now you know what to do, don't you? You 
 must go to the Temple by the second hour and wait for 
 Joad. When he comes he'll take you to the High Priest. 
 You'll know Joad, he'll be dressed as a priest. Tell Joad 
 he's the handsomest man you've ever seen; he's small, 
 you know, and likes to think he's captivitating. Compli- 
 ment the High Priest on his sense of justice; say it is the 
 finest in the world; say anything. . . . Don't be afraid 
 of overdoing it; men love flattery. 
 
 Simon [nods his head]. I'll do my best. 
 
 Hushim. If I've not heard from you by the fourth 
 hour I'll send Alexander to you to know the result, for I 
 shall be very anxious. And the boy'll find out, he's so 
 sharp. Don't spare compliments. You must be doorkeeper 
 in the Temple, and flattery is like honey, the less you de- 
 serve it, the more you like it. 
 
 Simon [going]. I'll try to do what you say, Hushim. 
 The Eleventh Hour on the day of Preparation 
 
 Hushim. Well? Have you got the post? You have 
 been a time. Are you the doorkeeper of the Temple; 
 have we the house in the Inner Court? 
 
 Simon [passing his hand over his forehead]. I don't 
 know. 
 
 Hushim. Don't know; you must know. Was Joad 
 there? He promised to speak for you. Did you see him? 
 
 Simon. I didn't see him. [Sits down wearily.] 
 
 Hushim. Didn't see him! Wasn't he there? My 
 uncle's brother, too, and he promised me : the liar. What 
 did you do? 
 
 Simon. I did nothing. I'm tired, Hushim. 
 
 Hushim. Tired! What's happened? Why don't you 
 speak? What's the matter with you? Are you dumb or ill? 
 
 Simon. I'm not ill, I'm only tired. 
 
 Hushim. v Tired, jou great hulk. Where have you been ? 
 What have you been doing? What's the matter with you? 
 Can't you speak? 
 
 Simon. If you knew 
 
 Hushim. If I knew what? Oh, you make me mad. 
 What is it? [She takes him by the shoulder and shakes 
 him.] What's happened? Oh, you brute! Can't you 
 speak? 
 
 24 
 
Simon. You've no cause for anger, wife. 
 
 Hushim. No cause! Have you got the place? What 
 did the High Priest say? You must know that 
 
 Simon. I don't know. 
 
 Hushim. You don't know. You must be mad. This 
 comes of marrying a foreigner, a fool, a great brute. They 
 all said I'd repent it. Oh I Oh 1 Oh ! 
 
 Simon. Don't cry, Hushim. I'll tell you everything. 
 
 Hushim [drying her eyes]. Tell me, did they make 
 you doorkeeper? That's what I want to know. Tell me 
 that. You promised you'd be in the Temple at the second 
 hour and here it is the eleventh. Where have you been all 
 day? Where? 
 
 Simon. I'm sorry, wife; I forgot. 
 
 Hushim. Forgot, sorry! What do you mean? Joad 
 promised me to get you the place if the High Priest liked 
 you. Did you get it ? What did they say ? Talk, man. 
 
 Simon. I'm so so.ry I forgot all about it. I have not 
 been to the Temple. 
 
 Hushim. You've not been to the Temple. And why 
 not? Where were you? Don't say that Eli got the post. 
 Don't say it or I'll strike you. 
 
 Simon. I'm very sorry. I forgot. I don't know who 
 got it. I wasn't there. 
 
 Hushim [sitting down]. Oh! Oh! Oh! He wasn't 
 there ! Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! Where have you been all these 
 hours? What have you been doing? Where did you go? 
 Where did you eat? 
 
 Simon. I've not eaten. I've 
 
 Hushim. Not eaten! Why not? What happened? 
 Oh, why won't you speak! Talk, tell me! 
 
 Simon. I'll tell you everything; but I'm very tired. 
 
 Hushim. Tell me first, who got the post? You must 
 have heard. 
 
 Simon. I don't know. I've not heard. 
 
 Hushim. At the fourth hour I sent Alexander to the 
 Temple to find out whether you were chosen or not ; when 
 it got so dark I sent Rufus to my sister-in-law, Hoshed. 
 I could not bear the suspense. They've both come back 
 without news. You must know who got the post. 
 
 Simon. No, I don't know. I didn't ask, but 
 
 Hushim. You didn't ask? 
 
 Simon. I'm thirsty. 
 
 Hushim [giving him wine]. There! Now tell me 
 everything. You went out to the field? 
 
 Simon [nods while drinking the wine]. I was at the 
 field till nearly the second hour working, then I came into 
 the city. When I reached the street which leads from 
 the Temple to Golgotha. I could not get across it, there 
 was such a crowd. They had all come to see some prison- 
 ers who were going to be crucified. 
 
 25 
 
Hushim. But didn't you push through?, 
 
 Simon. I got through to the first file, but there soldiers 
 kept the passage. I had to wait. No one was allowed to 
 cross. . . . They told me there were three criminals. 
 The people were talking about them. Two were thieves 
 and one a rebel from the north, who had tried to make 
 himself king. It was to see him the people had run to- 
 gether. Some said he was a prophet of God. . . . 
 
 After a little while the prisoners came by. The two 
 thieves first, and then slowly the man, whom they called 
 a prophet. He looked very ill. . . . [After a long 
 pause.] They had platted a crown of thorns and pushed 
 it down on his head, and the thorns had torn the flesh 
 and the blood ran down his face. When he came opposite 
 to me he fell and lay like a dead man; the Cross was 
 heavy. . . . The Centurion ordered some of the Roman 
 soldiers to lift the Cross from him and he got up. He 
 seemed very weak and faint : : he could hardly stand. . . 
 
 . The Centurion carne across to me and pulled me out, 
 and pointed to the Cross and told me to shoulder it and 
 get on. . . . 
 
 Hushim. But why you? 
 
 Simon. I suppose because I looked big and strong. 
 
 Hushim. Didn't you tell him you had to be at the 
 Temple ? 
 
 Simon. Of course I told him, but he thrust me forward 
 and warned me if I didn't do as I was told, I'd have to 
 go to the Temple without feet. 
 
 Hushim. Oh, what bad luck! No one ever had such 
 bad luck as you. No one. Why didn't you run away? 
 
 Simon. I didn't think 
 
 Hushim. Well, you carried the Cross? And then 
 
 Sfmon. I went to lift the Cross; it seemed as if I were 
 helping to punish the man. While I stood hesitating, he 
 looked at me, Hushim. I never saw such eyes or such a 
 look. Somehow or other I knew he wished me to do it. 
 I lifted the Cross up and got my shoulder under it and 
 walked on. I did not seem to notice the weight of it, I 
 was thinking of his look, and so went through the crowd 
 past Golgotha to the Hill of Calvary. On the top I put 
 down the Cross. 
 
 Hushim. When was that? It must have been about 
 the third hour. Why didn't you go to the Temple then? 
 You see, it was all your fault. I knew it was! But go on, 
 go on. 
 
 Simon. I forgot all about the Temple, I could think 
 of nothing but the man. He stood there so quiet while 
 the priests and people jeered at him. . . . When the 
 others were hung up, they shrieked and screamed and 
 cursed. It was dreadful. . . . 
 
 26 
 
When they were getting ready to nail him to the Cross 
 
 nt over to him and said, "O Master," and he turned 
 
 to me, "forgive me, Master, for doing what your enemies 
 
 d." And he looked at me again, and my heart 
 
 turned to water, and the tears streamed from my eyes, 
 
 I don't know why. . . . 
 
 He put his hands on my shoulders and said, "Friend, 
 friend, there is nothing to forgive. . ." [Lays his head 
 on his arms and sobs — ] 
 
 Hushim. Don't cry, Simon, don't cry. He must have 
 been a prophet 1 
 
 Simon. If you had seen him. If you had seen his 
 eyes. . . . 
 
 Hushim [beginning to cry]. I know, I know. What 
 else did he say? 
 
 Simon. He thanked me, and though I was a foreigner 
 and a stranger to him, and quite rough and common, he 
 took me in his arms and kissed n .1 was all 
 
 broken before him. . . . 
 
 He was wonderful. When they nailed him to the Cross 
 he did not even groan — not a sound. And when they lifted 
 the Cross up — the worst torture of all — he just grew 
 white, white. . . . All the priests about and the people 
 mocked him and asked if he could save others why couldn't 
 he save himself? But he answered not a word. . . . 
 I could have killed them, the brutes 1 He prayed to God 
 to forgive them, and he comforted one of the thieves who 
 was sobbing in pain. . . . 
 
 Oh, he was wonderful. Even in his anguish he could 
 think of others, and yet he was the weakest of all. 
 
 And then the storm burst, and I stood there for hours 
 and hours in the darkness. I could not leave him, I 
 waited. . . . Later some of his own people came about 
 the Cross, weeping, his mother and his followers, and took 
 him down, and they called him Master and Lord, as I had 
 called him. They all loved him. No one could help lov- 
 ing him, no one. . . . 
 
 Above his head on the Cross, they had written, "King 
 of the Jews." You Jews have no king, I know; they did 
 it to mock him. But he was a king, king of the hearts of 
 men. 
 
 Hushim. And with all that we've lost the place 1 What 
 was his name? 
 
 Simon. Jesus of Nazareth. 
 
 if. What was it He said 
 member it to tell Hoshed. 
 
 Simon. He called me "Blessed, for that I a stranger, 
 lid not even know Him. was the only n 
 world who had ever helped to bear His burden." 
 
 27 
 
JESUS 
 
 By G. Bernard Shaw 
 
 Dear Frank Harris : 
 
 Your review of my Androcles preface is very interest- 
 ing reading, as all your stuff is; but on the subject of the 
 mildness of Jesus you must fight it out, not with me, but 
 with St. Matthew. The Sermon on the Mount, even if 
 we could accept it as a genuine open-air speech and not a 
 very obvious collection of "sayings," would not afford the 
 slightest presumption that Jesus himself was the sort of 
 person he exhorted his hearers to be. 
 
 ' "~~There is an old story, told sometimes about Mazarin, 
 
 sometimes about Richelieu, of a Minister's antechamber 
 
 , hung with pictures; those on one side being all idyllic 
 
 J landscapes and scenes of domestic sentiment; those on 
 
 / the other scenes of battle and blood and torture. The Min- 
 ister, when he wanted to size up a new man, watched how 
 he took the pictures. If he clung to the battle pictures, the 
 Minister knew that he was a timid man of peace, for 
 whom action and daring were full of romantic fascination. 
 If he wallowed in cottage sentiment and the Maiden's 
 Prayer, he was immediately marked down for military 
 preferment and dangerous jobs. 
 
 Have you ever known a sportsman who was ferocious? 
 Have you ever known a humanitarian who was not 
 ferocious? You are yourself so in love with the Sermon 
 on the Mount, and with all aspects of gentleness and pity 
 that people who have never met you possibly imagine you 
 as a Christ-like, dove-eyed figure. But has anybody who 
 has met you personally ever described you as "Gentle 
 
 u Francis, meek and mild !"_jThe apparent contradiction of 
 your pity for Sonia and Oscar Wilde by your buccaneering 
 manners and occasionally frightful language is a familiar 
 natural phenomenon. 
 
 Suppose I had declared that the gospel of Matthew was 
 incredibly inconsistent because the haughty and vitupera- 
 tive Jesus, whom he describes, could not possibly be the 
 preacher of patience, kindness and forgiveness. Surely 
 you would have found such a criticism hasty and shallow, 
 and reminded me that the Shelley who wrote Prometheus 
 Unbound, and Laon and Cynthia was the same Shelley 
 who poured the fiercest invective on Castlereagh, on Eldon 
 and on his own father, not to mention the entire tribe of 
 old men. Would you say that Herbert Spencer must 
 have been a lazy man because he warned people so earnestly 
 
 . against the gospel of hard work? On the contrary, you 
 
 28 
 
ry plainly that he gave the warning just because 
 he had been himself unable to keep his industry within 
 prudent bounds, and overstrained himself permanently 
 
 -king at his First Principles. 
 Almost every one who is interested in Jesus has a pet 
 conception of him, and protests against my preface for 
 not reproducing it. But my preface has nothing to do 
 with any modern conception of him. I go to the Bible 
 and I find there four biographies of Jesus. Three of them 
 are called synoptic because they agree roughly as to the 
 course of events in his life; and two of them are at least 
 not contradictory as to his character. The fourth de- 
 scribes a different career and a different man — so different 
 that if he were not named and had not been crucified 
 by Pontius Pilate at the demand of the Jews, he might 
 have been classed as an apostle or even as the leader of 
 a great heresy. The world has mixed these three Jesuses 
 
 ne Jesus. The great painters have painted the three 
 in the stable with the shepherds ; an impossible 
 
 nation which would have scandalized Matthew and 
 irritated Luke. Matthew was a man of books, a chronic- 
 ler. Luke was a sentimental romancer. John was a. man 
 of the world and a politician with a turn for magic and 
 metaphysics, not unlike Paracelsus. Matthew took it for 
 granted that Jesus belonged to the haughty classes; had 
 socially correct views as to the Gentiles ; and was offensive 
 as a matter of course to those who disagreed with him. 
 Luke made an operatic tenor of him and gave him charm- 
 ing manners. Neither Matthew nor Luke write as eye 
 witnesses or like men who had ever taken part in political 
 life: they do not know how politicians and priests really 
 falk and behave, viva voce. John, on the contrary, writes 
 both as an eye witness and as a man who knew what 
 people are like on committees and at political and religious 
 demonstrations according to their classes. The difference 
 is like that between Anthony Trollope and a provincial 
 novelist who represents the king as always wearing the 
 crown and being addressed by the prime minister in 
 private as "Your Majesty." In the end you feel pretty 
 clear as to the sort of man Matthew was, and Luke was 
 and John was. You even have a distinct notion of Mark. 
 But Jesus eludes you, because though nothing could be 
 more definite than the type of man chronicled by Matthew, 
 you perceive that Matthew had no eye for character, and 
 
 3t understand originality or even unconventionality. 
 
 a portrait, though good fiction, is too obviously 
 
 ( ian to be credible as a bit of realism. And John is 
 
 T up a figure of the higher Freemasonry and never 
 
 takrs you behind the scenes of his temple-theater. 
 
 Out of all these I have picked some scraps of doctrine 
 
 29 
 
common to the four, and sor^e traits of Bohemian life in 
 which the four records confirm what would be deduced 
 from the circumstances. And I have given the only ex- 
 planation as yet discovered of the otherwise unaccountable 
 going like a lamb to the slaughter. Beyond this I could 
 not go without dropping into fiction. You can project 
 your ideal Christ on the pages of your next' book just as 
 Bu.rne-Jones has projected his Christ on the window of 
 Speldhurst Church. This Christ is not a bit like Holman 
 Hunt's "Light of the World." And Holman Hunt's Christ 
 is not a son of Blake's God in Job. Your Christ will 
 not be like Farrar's or Marie Corelli's. The ideal Christs 
 are of all sorts, from tailor's dummies to reincarnations 
 and revelations : but when you come to the documents you 
 come back to my preface. 
 
 The so-called higher criticism is a bore because it can- 
 not see the man behind the gospel. It does not even tell 
 you that Matthew and Mark were chiffoniers: it insists 
 that there were no such persons and that the wind blew the 
 chiffons into a heap and thus produced a gospel. That is 
 only the useless part of the truth : I have sifted the heap 
 for the cinders, not for the dust. 
 
 Yours ever, 
 
 G. Bernard Shaw. 
 
r Bernard Shaw : 
 
 I might answer your letter by ■ most 
 
 brilliant of living controven vhile 1 detest con- 
 
 troversy. I hate fighting and see no good in 
 flict of wits. I am always seeking for X' m of 
 
 truth in the other man's ai and trying to har- 
 
 monize his view with my d> 
 which shall include both. 
 
 But when I read this letter of jours with thi 
 in mind I was a little put out because 
 mtradict yourself. 
 
 You say "Jesus eludes you" ; that everyone interested in 
 Jesus has a pet conception of him and that his 
 and Sayings do not "afford the slightest presumption that 
 Jesus himself was the sort of person he exhorted his 
 hearers to be." Yet you tell us you know Matthew, Mark, 
 Luke and John from what they say and you proceed to 
 describe them. Their personalities and short-comings are 
 all clear to you but Jesus dudes you and you imply that 
 he cannot be known. Surely this contradiction ruin^ 
 main contention. Let me see if I can throw any 
 on your perplexity. 
 
 You kn( w. Mark, Luke and John and their 
 
 peculiarities of on; they have all written 
 
 about Jesus, an them, Matthew, Mark and I 
 
 have said much th( same things about him. 
 
 Besides this, one has an earlier account — the account 
 of Paul, v is but knew his mother, 
 
 his brother and his teachi 
 
 Now Pa nan of eminent capacity, a realiy good 
 
 brain and great heart given to passionate enthusiasms, a 
 man capable, that is, of understanding even the highest. 
 
 Paul was a historic character and we know Paul inti- 
 mately; an fI Paul tell* us of Jestis; nevertheless you say, 
 "Jesus eludes you. ' P mi's chapter in Corinthians on 
 "faith, hope and lo en accepted b\ fifty genera- 
 
 tions as giving the rit of the tear lesus; 
 
 it is in intimat according 
 
 to his other biogr s his final word: 
 
 "A new comrnan 
 one another." 
 
 All his teacl ' mplificaiion or exposition 
 
 of this text 
 
 "Let him tha • » cast the 
 
 stone." 
 
 "Much shall b - for she loved m 
 
 Now, Shaw, 
 
 31 
 
know that Jesus at his best does not elude you; yet, desir- 
 ing above all things controversial victory, you say in effect 
 that this gentle loving Jesus may have been a hot-head 
 revolutionary, full of desperate resolves, a pirate or bully 
 delighting in cruelties. 
 
 Of course, every man embraces in himself all sorts of 
 contradictions; the prize fighter has gentle impulses, the 
 saint hot indignations ; but we talk of them nevertheless, 
 as combative or gentle because of their dominant char- 
 acteristics. 
 
 A man reveals himself in his work infallibly. All the 
 new magical words of Jesus are words of love and pity. 
 Paul was a born fighter; his worth to us comes from the 
 fact that he has imbibed a full measure of the sweet 
 lovingkindness of Jesus; the conclusion seems to me 
 inevitable: The real Jesus is the traditional Jesus, gentle, 
 mild, with more of the milk of human kindness in him 
 than in any other man and more of sweet-thoughted 
 wisdom. 
 
 Frank Harris thinks the story by Jesus of the woman 
 taken in adultery given by St. John in his eighth chapter 
 is the best story ever written in the world. 
 
 AND the scribes and Pharisees brought unto him a wo- 
 man taken in adultery; and when they had set her 
 in the midst they said unto him, Master, this woman 
 was taken in adultery, in the very act. Now Moses in the 
 law commanded us, that such should be stoned; but what 
 sayest thou ? This they said, tempting him, that they might 
 have to accuse him. But Jesus stooped down, and with 
 His finger wrote on the ground, as though he heard them 
 not. So when they continued asking him, he lifted up 
 himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among 
 you, let him first cast a stone at her. And again he 
 stooped down, and wrote on the ground. And they which 
 heard it, being convicted by their own conscience, went 
 out one by one, beginning at the eldest, even unto the 
 last; and Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing 
 in the midst. When Jesus had lifted up himself, and saw 
 none but the woman, he said unto her, Woman, where are 
 thine accusers? Hath no man condemned thee? She 
 said, no man, Lord. And Jesus said unto her, Neither do 
 I condemn thee; go, and sin no more. 
 
 32 
 
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