[Footnote 7: Matt. xviii. 4; Mark ix. 33-36; Luke ix. 46-48.]
It was infancy, in fact, in its divine spontaneity, in its simple bewilderments of joy, which took possession of the earth. Every one believed at each moment that the kingdom so much desired was about to appear. Each one already saw himself seated on a throne[1] beside the master. They divided amongst themselves the positions of honor in the new kingdom,[2] and strove to reckon the precise date of its advent. This new doctrine was called the "Good Tidings;" it had no other name. An old word, "paradise," which the Hebrew, like all the languages of the East, had borrowed from the Persian, and which at first designated the parks of the Achæmenidæ, summed up the general dream; a delightful garden, where the charming life which was led here below would be continued forever.[3] How long this intoxication lasted we know not. No one, during the course of this magical apparition, measured time any more than we measure a dream. Duration was suspended; a week was an age. But whether it filled years or months, the dream was so beautiful that humanity has lived upon it ever since, and it is still our consolation to gather its weakened perfume. Never did so much joy fill the breast of man. For a moment humanity, in this the most vigorous effort she ever made to rise above the world, forgot the leaden weight which binds her to earth and the sorrows of the life below. Happy he who has been able to behold this divine unfolding, and to share, were it but for one day, this unexampled illusion! But still more happy, Jesus would say to us, is he who, freed from all illusion, shall reproduce in himself the celestial vision, and, with no millenarian dream, no chimerical paradise, no signs in the heavens, but by the uprightness of his will and the poetry of his soul, shall be able to create anew in his heart the true kingdom of God!
[Footnote 1: Luke xxii. 30.]
[Footnote 2: Mark x. 37, 40, 41.]
[Footnote 3: Luke xxiii. 43; 2 Cor. xii. 4. Comp. Carm. Sibyll., prooem, 36; Talm. of Bab., Chagigah, 14 b.]
CHAPTER XII.
EMBASSY FROM JOHN IN PRISON TO JESUS—DEATH OF JOHN—RELATIONS OF HIS SCHOOL WITH THAT OF JESUS.
Whilst joyous Galilee was celebrating in feasts the coming of the well-beloved, the sorrowful John, in his prison of Machero, was pining away with expectation and desire. The success of the young master, whom he had seen some months before as his auditor, reached his ears. It was said that the Messiah predicted by the prophets, he who was to re-establish the kingdom of Israel, was come, and was proving his presence in Galilee by marvelous works. John wished to inquire into the truth of this rumor, and as he communicated freely with his disciples, he chose two of them to go to Jesus in Galilee.[1]
[Footnote 1: Matt. xi. 2, and following; Luke vii. 18, and following.]
The two disciples found Jesus at the height of his fame. The air of gladness which reigned around him surprised them. Accustomed to fasts, to persevering prayer, and to a life of aspiration, they were astonished to see themselves transported suddenly into the midst of the joys attending the welcome of the Messiah.[1] They told Jesus their message: "Art thou he that should come? Or do we look for another?" Jesus, who from that time hesitated no longer respecting his peculiar character as Messiah, enumerated the works which ought to characterize the coming of the kingdom of God—such as the healing of the sick, and the good tidings of a speedy salvation preached to the poor. He did all these works. "And blessed is he," said Jesus, "whosoever shall not be offended in me." We know not whether this answer found John the Baptist living, or in what temper it put the austere ascetic. Did he die consoled and certain that he whom he had announced already lived, or did he remain doubtful as to the mission of Jesus? There is nothing to inform us. Seeing, however, that his school continued to exist a considerable time parallel with the Christian churches, we are led to think that, notwithstanding his regard for Jesus, John did not look upon him as the one who was to realize the divine promises. Death came, moreover, to end his perplexities. The untamable freedom of the ascetic was to crown his restless and stormy career by the only end which was worthy of it.