Well, young Master, cried somebody behind him, now what be ye thinking over this fine morning? Of the fish the nets will bring to be safely packed away in your father's barrels? My father's barrels be accursed! Joseph exclaimed, springing to his feet. And why dost thou call me master? I'm not master, nor art thou servant. And then, his eyes opening fully to the external world, he recognised the nearly hunchback Philip of Capernaum—a high-necked, thick-set fellow, in whom a hooked nose and prominent eyes were the distinguishing features. A sail-maker, that spoke with a sharp voice, and Joseph remembered him as combining the oddest innocence of mind regarding spiritual things with a certain shrewdness in the conduct of his business. Thy voice startled me out of a dream, Joseph said, and I knew not what I said. Beg pardon, Master—but the word "Sir" you like no better, and it would sound unseemly to call you "Joseph" and no more. As we are not born the same height nor strength nor wits, such little differences as "Sir" and "Master" get into our speech. All those that love God are the same, and there is neither class nor wealth, only love, Joseph answered passionately. That is the teaching of the new prophet Jesus, Philip replied, his yapping voice assuming an inveigling tone or something like one. I was in Magdala yester evening, and spent the night in my debtor's house, and as we were figuring out the principal and interest a neighbour came in, and among his several news was that you were seen walking with Jesus by the lake in the direction of Capernaum. We were glad to hear that, for having only returned to us last night you did not know that Jesus has become a great man in these parts, especially since he has come to lodge in Simon Peter's house. That was a great step for him. But I must be hastening away, for a meeting is at Simon Peter's house. And I have promised Jesus to be there too, Joseph answered. Then we may step the way out together, Philip answered, looking up into Joseph's face, and—as if he read there encouragement to speak out the whole of his mind—he continued:
I was saying that it was a great step up for him when Simon Peter took him to lodge in his house, for beforetimes he had, as the saying is, no place to lay his head: an outcast from Cana, whither he went first to his mother's house, and it is said he turned water into wine on one occasion at a marriage feast; but that cannot be true, for if it were, there is no reason that I can see why he should stay his hand and not turn all water into wine. To which Joseph replied that it would be a great misfortune, for the greater part of men would be as drunk as Noah was when he planted a vineyard, and we know how Lot's daughters turned their father's drunkenness to account. Moreover, Philip, if Jesus had turned all the water into wine there would be no miracle, for a miracle is a special act performed by someone whom God has chosen as an instrument. It is as likely as not, Master, that you be right in what you say, for there's no saying what is true and what is false in this world, for what one man says another man denies, and it is not even certain that all men see and hear alike. But, Philip, thou must remember that though men neither hear nor see alike, yet the love of God is the same in every man. But is it? Philip asked. For can it be denied that some men love God in the hope that God may do something for them, while others love God lest he may punish them. But methinks that such love as that is more fear than love; and then there are others that can love God—well, just because it seems to them that God is by them, just as I'm by you at the present moment. Jesus is such an one. But there be not many like him, and that was why his teaching found no favour either in Cana or in Nazareth. In them parts they knew that he was the carpenter's son, and his mother and his brothers and sisters were a hindrance to him, for thinking him a bit queer, they came ofttimes to the synagogues to ask him to come home with them, for they are shrewd enough to see that such talk as his will bring him no good in the end, for priests are strong everywhere and have the law of the land on their side, for governors would make but poor shift to govern without them. But why then, Philip, shouldst thou who art a cautious man, be going to Peter's house to meet him? Well, that's the question I've been asking myself all the morning till I came upon you. Master, sitting by the lake, and not unlikely you were asking yourself the same question, sitting over yonder by the lake all by yourself. He casts a spell upon me, I'm thinking, and has, it would seem to me, cast one upon you, for you went a long way with him last night, by all accounts. I'd have it from thee, Philip, how long he has been in these parts? Well, I should say it must be two years or thereabouts that he came up from Jericho, staying but a little while in Jerusalem and going on to his mother at Cana, and afterwards trying his luck, as I have said, in Nazareth. But his mother hasn't seen him for many a year? He has been away since childhood, living with a certain sect of Jews called the Essenes, and it was John—— Yes, I know John was baptizing in Jordan, Joseph interrupted, and he baptized Jesus. And after that he went into the desert, said Philip hurriedly, for he did not like being interrupted in his story. He came up to Nazareth, I was saying, about two years ago, but was thrown out of that city and came here; he was more fortunate here, picking up bits of food from the people now and then, who, thinking him harmless, let him sleep in an odd hole or corner; but he must have often been like dying of hunger by the wayside, for he was always travelling, going his rounds from village to village. But luck was on his side, and when he was near dying a traveller would come by and raise him and give him a little wine. He is one of those that can do with little, and after the first few months he had the luck to cast out one or two devils, and finding he could cast out devils, he turned to the healing of the sick; and many is the withered limb that he put right, and many a lame man he has set walking with as good a stride as we are taking now, and many a blind man's eyes he has opened, and the scrofulous he cured by looking at them—so it is said. And so his fame grew from day to day; the people love him, for he asks no money from them, which is a sure way into men's affections; but those whose children he has cured cannot see him go away hungry, and they put a loaf into his shirt, for he takes anything that he can get except money, which he will not look upon. There has been no holier man in these parts, Sir, these many years. The oldest in the country cannot remember one like him—my father is nearer ninety than eighty, and he says that Jesus is a greater man than he ever heard his father tell of, and he was well into the eighties before he died. Now, Sir, as we are near to Peter's house, you'll not mind my telling you that there is no "Sir" or "Master" at Peter's house. But, Philip, has it not already been said that thou mayst drop such titles as "Sir" and "Master" in addressing me? And wert thou not at one with me that we should be more courteous and friendly one between the other without them? Well, yes, Master, I do recollect some such talk between us, but now that we be coming into Capernaum it would be well that I should call you "Joseph," but "Joseph" would be difficult to me at first, and we are all brothers amongst us, only Jesus is Master over all of us, and God over him. But it now strikes my mind that I have not told you how Jesus and Peter became acquainted.
One day as Jesus was passing on his rounds a man ran out of his house and besought him to help him to stop some boys who were playing drums and fifes and psalteries, saying to him: I know not who thou art, but my wife's mother is dying of fever, and the boys jeer at me and show no mercy. Let us take stones and cast them at them. But Jesus answered: no stone is required; and turning to the boys he said: boys, all this woman asks of you is to be allowed to die in quiet, and you may ask the same thing some day, and that day may not be long delayed. Whereupon the boys were ashamed, and Jesus followed Peter into his house and took his wife's mother's hand and lifted her up a little and placed her head upon the pillow and bade her sleep, which she did, and seeing that he had such power Peter asked him to remain in the house till his mother-in-law opened her eyes, which he did, and he has been there ever since. Now here we are at the pathway through which Jesus comes and goes every day on his mission of healing and preaching the love of God. Your father, Sir, is much opposed to Jesus, who he says has persuaded Peter away from his fishing and James and John and many others, but no doubt your father told you these things last night.
CHAP. XIII.
Yonder is Capernaum—or it would have been more in our speech had I said, why, brother, yonder is Capernaum. But habit's like a fly, brother, it won't leave us alone, it comes back however often and angrily we may drive it away.
Joseph made no reply, hoping by silence to quiet Philip's tongue which returned to the attack, he was fain to admit, not altogether unlike a fly. He tried not to hear him, for the sight of the town at the head of the lake awakened recollections of himself and his nurse walking valiantly, their strength holding out till they reached Capernaum, but after eating at the inn they were too weary to return to Magdala on foot and Peter had had to take them back in his boat. Peter's boat was his adventure in those days, and strangely distinct the day rose up in his mind that he and Peter had gone forth firm in the resolution that they would ascend the Jordan as far as the waters of Merom. They succeeded in dragging the boat over the shallows, but there was much wind on the distant lake. Peter thought it would not be well to venture out upon it, and Andrew thought so too. He was now going to see those two brothers again after a long absence and was not certain whether he was glad or sorry. It seemed to him that the lake, its towns and villages, were too inseparably part of himself for him to wish to see them with the physical eyes, and that it would be wiser to keep this part of Galilee, the upper reaches of the lake at least, for his meditations; yet he did not think he would like to return to Magdala without seeing Capernaum. Perhaps because Jesus was there. That Jesus should have pitched upon Capernaum as a centre revived his interest in it, and there was a certain pathetic interest attached to the memory of a question he once put to his father. He asked him if Capernaum was the greatest city in the world, and for years after he was teased till Capernaum became hateful to him; but Capernaum within the last few minutes regained its place in his affections. And as the town became hallowed in recollection he cried out to Philip that he could not go farther with him. Not go any farther with me, Philip answered: now why is that, brother, for Peter is waiting to see you and will take on mightily when I tell him that you came to the head of the lake with me and turned back. But it is Peter whom I fear to meet, Joseph muttered, and then at the sight of the long lean street slanting down the hillside towards the lake, breaking up into irregular hamlets, some situated at the water's edge close to the wharf where Peter's boats lay gently rocking, he repeated: it is Peter that I fear. But unwilling to take Philip into his confidence he turned as if to go back to Magdala without further words, but Philip restrained him, and at last Joseph confessed his grief—that being the son of a rich man he was not eligible to the society of the poor. You will ask me, he said, to give up my money to the poor, a thing I would willingly do for the sake of Jesus, whom I believe to be God's prophet; but how can I give that which does not belong to me—my father's money? That was my grief when you found me sitting on the stone by the lake's edge.
Whereupon Philip stood looking at Joseph as one suspended, for the first time understanding rightly that the rich have their troubles as well as the poor. At last words coming to him he said: money has been our trouble since Jesus drew us together, for we would do without money and yet we know not how this is to be done. Like you, Sir, I'm asking if I'm to sell my sails, those already out and those in the unrolled material, and if I do sell and give the money to the poor how am I to live but by begging of those that have not given their all? But why should I worry you with our troubles? But your troubles are mine, Joseph answered; and Philip went away to fetch Peter, who, he said, would be able to tell him if Jesus could accept a rich man as a disciple. If a man that has a little be permitted to remain, who is to say how much means interdiction? Joseph asked himself as he kept watch for Peter to appear at the corner of the street. And does he know the Master's mind enough to answer the question of my admission or—— The sentence did not finish in his mind, for Peter was coming up the street at that moment, a great broad face coming into its features and expression. The same high-shouldered fisher as of yore, Joseph said to himself, and he sought to read in Peter's face the story of Peter's transference from one master to another. It wasn't the approach of the Great Day, he said, for Peter never could see beyond his sails and the fins of a fish; and if Jesus were able to lift his thoughts beyond them he had accomplished a no less miracle than turning water into wine.
Well, young Master, he said, we're glad to have you back among us again. There be no place like home for us Galileans. Isn't that so? And no fishing like that on these coasts? But, Peter, Joseph interrupted, my father tells me that thou hast laid aside thy nets—but that isn't what I'm here to talk to thee about, he interjected suddenly, but about Jesus himself, whom I've been seeking for nearly two years, very nearly since I parted from you all, well nigh two years ago, isn't it? I've sought him in the hills of Judea, in Moab, in the Arabian desert and all the way to Egypt and back again. It's about two years since you went away on your travels, Master Joseph, and a great fine story there'll be for us to listen to when our nets are down, Peter said. I'd ask you to begin it now, Master Joseph, weren't it that the Master is waiting for us over yonder in my house. And from what Philip tells me you would have my advice about joining our community, Master Joseph. You've seen no doubt a good deal of the Temple at Jerusalem and know everything about the goings on there, and are with us in this—that the Lord don't want no more fat rams and goats and bullocks, and incense is hateful in his nostrils. So I've heard. They be Isaiah's words, aren't they, young Master? But there's no master here, only Jesus: he is Master, and if I call you "Master" it is from habit of beforetimes. But no offence intended. You always will be master for me, and I'll be servant always in a sense, which won't prevent us from being brothers. The Master yonder will understand and will explain it all to you better than I.... And Peter nodded his great head covered with frizzly hair. But, Peter, I am a rich man, and my father is too, and none but the poor is admitted into the Community of Jesus. That's what affrights him, Peter—his money, Philip interjected, and I have been trying to make him understand that Jesus won't ask him for his father's money, he not having it to give away. I'm not so sure of that, Peter said. The Master told us a story yesterday of a steward who took his master's money and gave it to the poor, he being frightened lest the poor, whom he hadn't been over-good to in his lifetime, might not let him into heaven when he died. And the Master seemed to think that he did well, for he said: it is well to bank with the poor. Them were his very words. So it seems to thee, Peter, that I should take my father's money? Joseph asked. Take your father's money! Peter answered. We wouldn't wrong your father out of the price of two perch, and never have done, neither myself nor John and James. Now I won't say as much for—— We love your father, and never do we forget that when our nets were washed away it was he that gave us new ones. I am sure thou wouldst not wrong my father, Joseph answered, and he refrained from asking Peter to explain the relevancy of the story he had just told lest he should entangle him. It is better, he said to himself, to keep to facts, and he told Peter that even his own money was not altogether his own money, for he had a partner in Jericho and it would be hard to take his money out of the business and give it all to the poor. Giving it to the poor in Galilee, he said, would deprive my camel-drivers of their living. Which, Peter observed, would be a cruel thing to do, for a man must be allowed to get his living, whether he be from Jericho or Galilee, fisher or camel-driver or sail-maker. Which reminds me, Philip, that thou be'st a long time over the sail I was to have had at the end of last month. And the twain began to wrangle so that Joseph thought they would never end, so prolix was Philip in his explanations. He had had to leave the sail unsewn, was all he had to say, but he embroidered on this simple fact so largely that Joseph lost patience and began to tell them he had come to Galilee, Pilate wishing him to add the portage of wheat from Moab to the trade already started in figs and dates. So Pilate is in the business, Peter ejaculated, for Peter did not think that a Jew should have any dealings with Gentiles, and this opinion, abruptly expressed, threw the discourse again into disarray. But Pilate is in Jerusalem, Joseph began. And has he brought the Roman eagles with him? Peter interrupted. And seeing that these eagles would lead them far from the point which he was anxious to have settled—whether the trade he was doing between Jerusalem and Jericho prevented him from being a disciple—Joseph began by assuring Peter that the eagles had been sent back to Cæsarea. Cæsarea, Peter muttered, our Master has been there, and says it is as full as it can hold of graven images. Well, Peter, what I have come to say is, that were I to disappoint Pilate he might allow the robbers to infest the hills again, and all my money would be lost, and my partner's money, and the camel-drivers would be killed; and if my convoys did not arrive in Jerusalem there might be bread riots. How would you like that, Peter?
Now what do ye say to that, Peter? and Philip looked up into Peter's great broad face. Only this, Peter answered, that money will shipwreck our Community sooner or later—we're never free from it. Like a fly, Philip suggested, the more we chase it away the more it returns. The fly cannot resist a sweating forehead, Philip, Peter said. Thine own is more sweaty than mine, Philip retorted, and a big blue fly is drinking his belly full though thou feelest him not, being as callous as a camel. The Master's teaching is, Peter continued, having driven off the fly, that no man should own anything, that everyone should have the same rights, which seems true enough till we begin to put it into practice, for if I were to let whosoever wished take my boats and nets to go out fishing, my boats and nets would be all at the bottom of the lake before the sun went down as like as not, for all men don't understand fishing. As we must have fish to live I haven't parted with my boats; but every time we take that turning down yonder to the lake's edge and I see my boats rocking I offer up a little prayer that the Master may be looking the other way or thinking of something else. James and John, sons of Zebedee, are of the same mind as myself—that we shouldn't trouble the Master too closely with the working out of his teaching. The teaching is the thing. Why, they be coming towards us, as sure as my name's Simon Peter, sent perhaps by the Master to fetch us, so long have we been away talking.