Chapter XXII: Section VI: Jesus Christ (2)

Widely different is the treatment of this subject in Luke. According to him there was a priest named Zacharias whose wife Elizabeth was barren. The couple were no longer young, but they were not old enough to have lost all hope of progeny, for we are told that when Zacharias was engaged in his duties in the temple, an angel appeared to him and informed him that his prayer was heard, and that his wife was to have a son whom he was to call John. Zacharias had therefore been praying for offspring, though when the angel—who announced himself as Gabriel—appeared, he was troubled with some impious doubts, in punishment of which he was struck dumb. After this Elizabeth conceived, and went into retirement. From five to six months after the above scene Gabriel was again despatched from heaven, this time to a virgin named Mary, living at Nazareth. Arrived at her house, he addressed her thus: "Hail, thou that art highly favored; the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women." Seeing Mary's confusion he reassured her; and informed her that she should have a son called Jesus, who was to possess the throne of David, and reign over the house of Jacob forever. Like Zacharias, Mary was disposed to raise troublesome questions, and she accordingly inquired of Gabriel how she could bear a child, "seeing I know not a man." But Gabriel was ready with his answer. The Holy Ghost would come upon her; moreover, her cousin Elizabeth had conceived (which, however, was not a parallel case), and nothing was impossible with God. Soon after this visit, Mary went to see Elizabeth, who interpreted an ordinary incident of pregnancy as a sign that the fruit of Mary's womb was blessed, and that Mary was to be the mother of her Lord. The virgin replied in a very elaborate little speech, which if uttered must have been carefully prepared for the occasion. In due time the child of Zacharias and Elizabeth was born, and named John by his parents' desire. What Joseph thought of his bride's condition we are not told, nor do we know whether she made known to him her interview with the angel Gabriel. At any rate he did not repudiate her, for we find him taking her with him, about five months later, to Bethlehem, for the purpose of the census which took place when Quirinus was governor of Syria, his descent from David requiring him to attend at that town. During this census it was that Jesus was born, and because of the crowded condition of the inn at this busy time, he was placed in a manger (Lu. i. 1; ii. 7). There let us leave him for the present, while we compare these narratives with others of a like description.

Birth in some miraculous or unusual manner is a common circumstance in the lives of great persons. We have here therefore another instance of the typical species of myth. Thus, in classical antiquity, Here is said to have produced Hephaistos "without the marriage bed" (Bib., i. 3-5). Turning to a remote part of the globe, there was in the present century a person living in New Zealand who, according to native tradition, was "begotten by the attua," a species of deity, "his mother being then unmarried. The infant was produced at her left arm-pit, but there was no visible mark left.... He is held as a great prophet; when he says there will be no rain there will be none" (N. Z., p. 82). An example of the same kind of legend occurs in the ancient history of China. The hero is one How-tseih, who was the founder of the royal house of Chow. His mother, it appears, was barren, like Elizabeth, for she "had presented a pure offering and sacrificed, that her childlessness might be taken away." Her devotion received a fitting reward, for:—

"She then trod on a toe-print made by God, and was moved,
In the large place where she rested.
She became pregnant, she dwelt retired;
She gave birth to, and nourished [a son],
Who was How-tseih."

His mode of coming into the world was peculiar too:—

"When she had fulfilled her months
Her first-born son [came forth] like a lamb.
There was no bursting, nor rending;
No injury, no hurt:—
Showing how wonderful he would be.
Did not God give her the comfort?
Had he not accepted her pure offering and sacrifice,
So that thus easily she brought forth her son?"[23]

The gestation of the Buddha was in many ways miraculous. He entered the womb of his mother by a voluntary act, resigning his abode in heaven for the purpose. At the time of his descent upon earth Mâyâ Devi dreamt that a white elephant of singular beauty had entered into her, a dream which portended the future greatness of the child (R. T. R. P., vol. ii. p. 61). During the time of his remaining in the womb, his body, which was visible both to his mother and to others, had a resplendent and glorious appearance.[24] "Mâyâ the queen, during the time that Bodhisattva remained in the womb of his mother, did not feel her body heavy, but on the contrary light, at ease and in comfort, and felt no pain in her entrails. She was nowise tormented by the desires of passion, nor by disgust, nor by trouble, and had no irresolution against desire, no irresolution against the thought of evil or of vice. She suffered the sensation neither of cold, nor of heat, nor of hunger, nor of thirst, nor of trouble, nor of passion, nor of fatigue: she saw nothing of which the form, the sound, the smell, the taste and the touch did not seem to her agreeable. She had no bad dreams. The tricks of women, their inconstancy, their jealousy, the defects of women and their weaknesses, she did not share" (Ibid., vol. ii. p. 77). And although it is never expressly stated that the Buddha's nominal father had no part in his production, it is remarkable that at the time of her conceiving, Mâyâ was living in a place apart from him, having craved permission to retire for a season, to practice fasting and penance. During this time she had told the king that she would be "completely delivered from thoughts of stealing, desire and pride," and that she would not "yield to one illicit desire" (R. T. R. P., vol. ii. pp. 54, 55). Some sects of Buddhists are more explicit, and maintain that Bodhisattvas do not pass through the earlier stages of fœtal development; namely, those of _Kalalam_, mixing up, the period of the first week, when the future body is like milk: _arbudam_, the period of the second week, where a form rises like something inflated; peci, thickening: and _ghana_, hardening, the periods of the third and fourth weeks (Wassiljew, p. 260). But all this does not exclude the coöperation of a human father. Passing to another great religion, we find that even the sober philosopher Confucius did not enter the world, if we may believe Chinese traditions, without premonitory symptoms of his greatness. It is said that one day as his mother was ascending a hill, "the leaves of the trees and plants all erected themselves and bent downwards on her return. That night she dreamt the Black _Te_ appeared, and said to her, 'You shall have a son, a sage, and you must bring him forth in a hollow mulberry tree.'" In another dream she received a prophecy of the importance of her coming progeny (C. C., vol. i. p. 59—Proleg.). Another account states that "various prodigies, as in other instances, were the forerunners of the birth of this extraordinary person. On the eve of his appearance on earth, two dragons encircled the house, and celestial music sounded in the ears of his mother. When he was born, this inscription appeared on his breast—'The maker of a rule for settling the world'" (Chinese, vol. ii. p. 44). The mother of Mahomet is said to have related of her pregnancy, that she felt none of the usual inconveniences of that state; and that she had seen a vision in which she had been told that she bore in her womb the Lord and Prophet of her people. A little before her delivery the same figure appeared again, and commanded her to say, "I commend the fruit of my body to the One, the Eternal, for protection against the envious" (L. L. M., vol. i. p. 142).

Miraculously born, it was necessary that Jesus should also be miraculously recognized as a child of no common order. The story would have been incomplete without some one to acknowledge his superhuman character even in his cradle. Matthew and Luke again accomplish the common end by widely different means. Luke's is the simpler narrative, and it will be more convenient to begin with. He tells us that there were in the same country, that is, near Bethlehem, shepherds watching their flocks. An angel appeared to them and said that a Savior, Christ the Lord, was born in the city of David. They were to know him by his being in a manger wrapped in swaddling clothes. In this humility of his external circumstances immediately after birth, as in the supernatural recognition which he received, he again resembles the Chinese hero. How-tseih

"was placed in a narrow lane,
But the sheep and oxen protected him with loving care.
He was placed in a wide forest,
Where he was met by the woodcutters.
He was placed on the cold ice,
And a bird screened and supported him with its wings."[25]

"And suddenly," the narrative in Luke proceeds, "there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth the peace of good-will among men'" (Lu. ii. 8-14). Similar demonstrations of celestial delight were not wanting at the birth of the Buddha Sakyamuni. He was received by the greatest of the gods, Indra and Brahma. All beings everywhere were full of joy. Musical instruments belonging to men and gods played of themselves. Trees became covered with flowers and fruit. There fell from the skies a gentle shower of flowers, garments, odoriferous powders, and ornaments. Caressing breezes blew. A marvelous light was produced. Evil passions were put a stop to, and illnesses were cured; miseries of all kinds were at an end (R. T. R. P., vol. ii. pp. 90, 91). So also we read in Moslem authorities that at the birth of Ali, Mahomet's great disciple, and the chief of one of the two principal sects into which Islam is divided, "a light was distinctly visible, resembling a bright column, extending from the earth to the firmament" (Dervishes, p. 372). But let us complete the narrative in Luke.

Urged by the angelic order, the shepherds went to Bethlehem and found the infant Christ, whose nature, as revealed by the angels, they made known to the people with whom they met. Returning, they praised and glorified God for all they had heard and seen (Lu. ii. 15-20).

Quite dissimilar is the form in which the same incident appears in Matthew. Here, instead of shepherds, we have magi coming from the East to discover the King of the Jews. A star in the East had revealed to them the birth of this King of the Jews _de jure_, and in the search for him they run straight into the very jaws of Herod, the king _de facto_. The author is obliged to make them take this absurdly improbable course for the sake of introducing Herod, whom he required for a purpose shortly to be explained. How utterly superfluous the visit to Herod was is evinced by the fact that, after that monarch has found out from the chief priests the birthplace of the Messiah, the magi are guided onwards by the star, which had been omitted from the story since its first appearance in order to allow of their journey to Jerusalem, a mistake for which the star could not be made responsible. However, after leaving Herod, they were led by that luminary to the very spot where Christ lay. On seeing the infant they worshiped him, and offered him magnificent presents, after which a dream informed them—what their waking senses might surely have discovered—that it was not safe to return to Herod after having thus acknowledged a rival claimant to the throne. They accordingly went home another way.

Interwoven with this visit of the magi we have a myth which belongs to a common form, and which in the present instance is merely adapted to the special circumstances of the age and place. I term it the myth of THE DANGEROUS CHILD. Its general outline is this: A child is born concerning whose future greatness some prophetic indications have been given. But the life of this child is fraught with danger to some powerful individual, generally a monarch. In alarm at his threatened fate, this person endeavors to take the child's life; but it is preserved by the divine care. Escaping the measures directed against it, and generally remaining long unknown, it at length fulfills the prophecies concerning its career, while the fate which he has vainly sought to shun falls upon him who had desired to slay it. There is a departure here from the ordinary type, inasmuch as Herod does not actually die or suffer any calamity through the agency of Jesus. But this failure is due to the fact that Jesus did not fulfill the conditions of the Messiahship, according to the Jewish conception which Matthew has here in mind. Had he—as was expected of the Messiah—become the actual sovereign of the Jews, he must have dethroned the reigning dynasty, whether represented by Herod or his successors. But as his subsequent career belied these expectations, the Evangelist was obliged to postpone to a future time his accession to that throne of temporal dominion which the incredulity of his countrymen had withheld from him during his earthly life (Mt. xxiv. 30, 31; xxv. 31 ff.; xxvi. 64).

In other respects the legend before us conforms to its prototypes. The magi, coming to Herod, inquire after the whereabouts of the king of the Jews, whose star they have seen in the East. Herod summons the chief priests and scribes to council, and ascertains of them that Christ was to be born at Bethlehem. This done, he is careful to learn from the magi the exact date at which the star had appeared to them. He further desires them to search diligently for the young child, that he also may worship it. They, as previously related, returned home without revisiting Herod, whereupon that monarch, in anger at the deception practiced upon him, causes all the children under two years of age, in and about Bethlehem, to be slaughtered. All is in vain. Joseph, warned by a dream, had taken his wife and step-son to Egypt, where they remained until after the death of Herod, when another dream commanded them to return. When afraid to enter the dominions of Archelaus, another of these useful dreams guided them to Galilee, where they took up their quarters at Nazareth (Mt. ii).

How wide-spread and of what frequent recurrence is this myth of the Dangerous Child, a few examples may suffice to show. In Grecian mythology the king of the gods himself had been a dangerous child. The story of Kronos swallowing his children in order to defeat the prophecy that he would be dethroned by his own son; the manner in which Rhea deceived him by giving him a stone, and Zeus, armed with thunder and lightning, deposed him from the government of the world, are familiar to all (Bib. 1. 1. 5-7, and 1. 2. 1). If we descend from gods to heroes, we find a similar legend related of Perseus, whose grandfather, Akrisios, vainly tried to avert his predicted fate, first by scheming to prevent his grandson's birth, and then by seeking to destroy him when born (Ibid., 2. 4. 1. 4.); and of Oidipous, who in spite of the attempt to cut short his life in infancy, inevitably and unconsciously fulfilled the oracle by slaying his father and marrying his mother. Within historical times, Kyros, the son of Kambyses is the hero of a similar tale. His grandfather, Astyages, had dreamt certain dreams which were interpreted by the magi to mean that the offspring of his daughter Mandane would expel him from his kingdom. Alarmed at the prophecy, he handed the child to his kinsman Harpagos to be killed; but this man having entrusted it to a shepherd to be exposed, the latter contrived to save it by exhibiting to the emissaries of Harpagos the body of a stillborn child of which his own wife had just been delivered. Grown to man's estate, Kyros of course justified the prediction of the magi by his successful revolt against Astyages and assumption of the monarchy (Herodotos, i. 107-130). Jewish tradition, like that of the Greeks and the Persians, has its dangerous child in the person of the national hero Moses, whose death Pharaoh had endeavored to effect by a massacre of innocents, but who had lived to bring upon that ruler his inevitable fate. From these well-known examples it is interesting to turn to the chronicles of the East-Mongols, and find precisely the same tale repeated there. We read that a certain king of a people called Patsala, had a son whose peculiar appearance led the Brahmins at court to prophesy that he would bring evil upon his father, and to advise his destruction. Various modes of execution having failed, the boy was laid in a copper chest and thrown into the Ganges. Rescued by an old peasant who brought him up as his son, he in due time learnt the story of his escape, and returned to seize upon the kingdom destined for him from his birth. This was in B. C. 313 (G. O. M., pp. 21, 23). This universal myth—of the natural origin of which it would lead me too far to speak—was now adapted to the special case of Christ, who runs the usual risk and escapes it with the usual good fortune of dangerous children.

Having thus preserved the infant Christ from the dangers that threatened him, Matthew tells us absolutely nothing about him until he has arrived at manhood, and is ready to enter on his public life. Luke is much less reticent. True, he knows nothing whatever of the star that appeared in the East; nothing of Herod's inquiries as to the birthplace of Christ; nothing of the massacre of the innocents, nor of the flight into Egypt and the return from that country to Nazareth. On the contrary, his narrative by implication excludes all this, for he makes Joseph and Mary go up to Bethlehem for the census only, and return to Nazareth soon after it; so that Herod could have had no occasion to kill the infants up to the age of two years, for Christ could not have been above a few weeks old at most (Lu. ii. 39). Moreover, we learn definitely from one verse that his parents went up _from Nazareth_ to Jerusalem every year at the passover (Ibid., ii. 41). But the absence of any statements like those just taken from the first Gospel is amply compensated in the third by several pleasing details relating to his infancy and boyhood. In the first place we learn that after eight days he was circumcised, and named Jesus according to the angel's desire (Ibid., ii. 21). Next, we are told that after his mother's purification—which would last thirty-three days after the circumcision—she and his step-father took him to the temple to be presented, and to make the customary offering. There was in the temple a man named Simeon who had been promised by the Holy Ghost that he should not die till he had seen Christ. This man, who came by the Spirit into the temple, took the baby in his arms and gave vent to his emotion in the beautiful little hymn known as the _Nunc Dimittis:_—"Now, O Lord, thou dost release thy servant according to thy word in peace, because mine eyes have seen thy salvation, which thou hast prepared before the face of all nations; a light for the revelation of the Gentiles and the glory of thy people Israel" (Lu. ii. 29-32).

Less exquisite in its simplicity, but not altogether dissimilar in tone, is the prophecy of the Rishi Asita on the infant Buddha. This old and eminent ascetic had come to see the child whose marvelous gifts had been known to him by supernatural signs. Having embraced its feet, and predicted its future preëminence, he had surprised the king by bursting into tears and heaving long sighs. Questioned about the meaning of this he replied: "Great king, it is not on account of this child that I weep; truly there is not in him the smallest vice. Great king, I am old and broken; and this young prince (Literally, Sarvarthasiddha) will certainly clothe himself with the perfect and complete intelligence of Buddha, and will cause the wheel of the law that has no superior to turn.... After becoming Buddha he will cause hundreds of thousands of millions of beings to pass to the other border of the ocean of wandering life, and will lead them forever to immortality. And I—I shall not see this pearl of Buddhas! Cured of illness, I shall not be freed by him from passion! Great king, that is why I weep, and why in my sadness I heave long sighs" (R. T. R. P., vol. ii. pp. 106, 107).

So Abd-al-mottalib, Mahomet's grandfather, on seeing his grandchild immediately after his birth, is reported to have exclaimed: "Praise be to Allah, who has given me this glorious youth, who even in the cradle rules over other boys. I commend him to the protection of Allah, the Lord of the four elements, that he may show him to us when he is well grown up. To his protection I commend him from the evil of the wicked spirit" (L. L. M., vol. i. p. 143).

Prognostications of greatness in infancy are, indeed, among the stock incidents in the mythical or semi-mythical lives of eminent persons. Not content with Simeon's recognition, Luke introduces an old prophetess called Anna, living in the temple, and represents her as giving thanks, and speaking of the child to all who looked for redemption in Jerusalem (Lu. ii. 36-38).

Twelve years are now suffered to elapse without further account of the young Jesus than that he grew and strengthened, filled with wisdom, and that the grace of God was upon him (Ibid., ii. 40). At twelve years old, the blank is filled by a single event. His parents had gone to Jerusalem to keep the passover, taking Jesus with them. On their way back they missed him, and having failed to find him among their traveling companions, returned to look for him at Jerusalem. There they found him in the temple sitting among the doctors of the law, listening to them and putting questions. Those who heard him are said to have been astonished at his intelligence. Questioned by his mother as to this extraordinary conduct, he replied, "How is it that ye sought me? wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business?" (Lu. ii. 41-50.) Were this incident confirmed by other authorities, and did it stand in some kind of connection with the events that precede and follow it, we might accept it as a genuine reminiscence of the boyhood of Jesus. That a precocious boy, eager for information, should take the opportunity of a visit to the headquarters of Hebraic learning to seek from the authorities then most respected a solution of questions that troubled his mind, would not in itself be so very surprising. And those who are familiar with the kind of inquiries made by clever children, especially on theological topics, will not think it strange that his youthful wits should occasionally be too much for those of professed theologians. But the isolation in which this single event stands in the first thirty years of Christ's life, and the total absence of confirmation from any other source, compel us to regard it as an invention designed to show an early consciousness in Jesus of his later mission, and also to prove the inability of the doctors to cope with him. We must, therefore, reject it along with the other myths of the infancy, of which some are typical myths, others (like this) myths peculiar to Jesus, but none in the smallest degree historical.

Before entering on the later life of Jesus, let us note certain differences between Matthew and Luke in their treatment of the infancy, which will confirm the above conclusion. In the first place, it is to be observed that they effect the desired end by totally unlike methods. Given the problem of getting the infant Christ born without the assistance of a father, there were various ways in which readers could be assured of the truth of such a miracle. One was to inform Joseph in a dream of the coming event; another was to announce it to Mary by means of an angel. In choosing between these expedients each Evangelist is guided by his own idiosyncrasy. Matthew selects the dream; Luke the angel; and it is noteworthy that on other occasions they exhibit similar preferences. Matthew gets out of every difficulty by a dream. In the course of his two first chapters he uses this favorite contrivance no less than five times; four times for Joseph, and once for the magi (Mt. i. 20, and ii. 12, 13, 22). Twice, it is true, he mentions an angel of the Lord as appearing in the dream, but the angel in his narrative plays a very subordinate part, and is, indeed, practically superfluous. With Luke, on the contrary, the principal agent in the events of the infancy is the angel, who supplies the place of the dream in Matthew. An angel informs Zacharias that his wife is to have a son; an angel declares to Mary that she is destined to give birth to the Son of God; an angel announces that event to the shepherds after its occurrence; and angels appear in crowds above them as soon as the announcement has been made (Lu. i. 11, 26, and ii. 9, 13). Another striking difference is the extreme fondness of Matthew for ancient prophecies, and of Luke for little anthems and for songs of praise. The diverse natures of the two writers are well exemplified by this distinction; the former being the more penetrated with the history and literature of the Jewish race; the latter the more flexible and the more imbued with the spirit of his age. Hence, Matthew almost avowedly constructs his narrative in such a manner as to ensure the fulfillment of the prophecies. After describing Mary's miraculous conception, he says that all this was done to fulfill Isaiah's words: "Behold, a virgin shall conceive" (more accurately; the maiden has conceived), "and shall bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel" (Mt. i. 23; Isa. vii. 14). And this he quotes, regardless of the fact that Christ never was called Immanuel, and that if the one clause of the prophecy is to be understood literally, so must the other. Thus also he reveals his reason for assigning to Bethlehem the honor of being Christ's birthplace, when he places in the mouths of the priests at the court of Herod a verse from Micah, in which it is asserted that from Bethlehem Ephratah shall come a man who is to be ruler in Israel (Mt. ii. 6; Mic. v. 2). Further, he massacres the innocents in order to corroborate a saying of Jeremiah (Mt. ii. 18; Jer. xxxi. 15), and he takes Joseph and Mary to Egypt to confirm an expression of Hosea (Mt. ii. 15; Hos. xi. 1). In each case, he perverts the natural sense of the prophets; for in Jeremiah, the children are to return to their own land, which the innocents could not do; and in Hosea, the son who is called out of Egypt is the people of Israel. Lastly, in his exceeding love of quoting the Old Testament, he commits the most singular blunder of all in applying to Christ the words spoken of Samson by the angel who announced his birth. If, indeed, the allusion be to this passage (and it can scarcely be to any other), the Evangelist is barely honest; for he converts the angelic words, "he shall _be a Nazarite_," into the words "he shall _be called a Nazarene_" (Mt. ii. 23; Judg. xiii. 5). So Judaic a writer could hardly be ignorant that a Nazarite was not the same thing as an inhabitant of Nazareth. But from whatever source the quotation may come, its object plainly is to lead to the belief that notwithstanding his birth at Bethlehem, Jesus was called by his contemporaries a Nazarene.

Luke does not trouble himself with the search for ancient oracles, but indulges a far freer and more inventive genius. His personages give utterance to their feelings in highly finished songs, which are sometimes very beautiful, but most certainly could never have been uttered by the simple people to whom he attributes them. Among these are the salutation of Elizabeth to Mary, and the still more elaborate answer of Mary. Zacharias, the very instant he recovers his speech, recites a complete hymn of no inconsiderable length (Lu. i. 68-79). Again, Simeon expresses his joy at the birth of the Savior in a similar manner (Ibid., ii. 29-32); but in his case it may be said that he had so long expected to see the Christ that his hymn of thanksgiving might well be ready.

Passing now to the manhood of Jesus, we find the four Evangelists all agreed in recording the baptism by John as the earliest known event in his adult career, and it is unquestionably with this consecration by a great man that his authentic life begins. Mark and John indeed were unaware of anything previous to this period, and the former introduces it by the words, "The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ the Son of God" (Mk. i. 1), showing that for him at least the history of his Master began at this point. As usual, the myth appears in its simplest form in his pages. After applying to John the Baptist a prophecy by Isaiah, he states that this prophet was engaged in baptizing in the wilderness, and that all Judea and all the Jerusalemites went out to him and were baptized, confessing their sins. He declared that a mightier than he was coming after him, the latchet of whose shoes he was unworthy to unloose. Jesus, like the rest of the world, went to be baptized, and as he came out of the water he saw the heavens opened, and the Spirit descending on him like a dove. There was a voice from the heavens, "Thou art my beloved Son, in thee I am well pleased." Matthew and Luke describe the baptism of John in a similar manner, Matthew adding a conversation between Jesus and John. They also mention the baptism of Jesus, the descent of the dove, and the voice, but with slight variations. For whereas Mark merely says that _Jesus saw_ the heavens opened and the Spirit like a dove descending, and Matthew, in substantial accordance with him, relates that the heavens were opened [to him], and that _he saw_ the Spirit descend as a dove, Luke going further, pretends that the heavens were opened, and that the spirit did descend in a bodily form like a dove upon him (Mk. i. 1-12; Mt. iii.; Lu. iii. 1-22). Thus is the subjective fact in the consciousness of Jesus gradually changed into an objective fact, a transition deserving to be noted as illustrative of the trivial changes of language by which a myth may grow. Several other examples of a like process will meet us in the course of this inquiry. The scene at the baptism is described differently again in the fourth Gospel. There the testimony of John the Baptist to Christ is rendered far more emphatic; he receives him with the words, "Behold the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the world;" and he explains his knowledge of him by the fact that he has received a special revelation concerning him. On whomsoever he saw the Spirit descend and remain, that was he who was to baptize with the Holy Ghost. Now he had seen the Spirit descend like a dove on Jesus, and therefore had borne witness that he was the son of God (John i. 6-37). Of the opening of the heavens and of the voice nothing is said, and the meaning of the whole story evidently is that this descent of the Spirit was a private sign arranged between God and John the Baptist, but of which the bystanders either perceived nothing, or understood nothing. For had they known that the Holy Ghost itself was thus bearing witness to Jesus, what need was there of the witness of John? It is evident, however, that even if they saw the dove flying down and alighting upon Jesus, they were not informed that it represented the Holy Spirit. Thus the whole fact is reduced to a peculiar interpretation given by John to a natural occurrence. We have then three versions of the baptismal myth:—in the first certain circumstances are perceived by Jesus; in the second they are perceived by John; in the third they actually occur.

Strangely inconsistent with this distinct acknowledgment of Christ as the son of God, is the inquiry addressed to him at a subsequent period by John the Baptist through his disciples. It appears that on hearing of the extraordinary fame of Jesus and of the course he was pursuing, John sent two disciples from the prison where he was confined to put this question to him, "Art thou he that should come, or do we expect another?" in other words, Are you the Messiah? Thus interrogated, Jesus replied, not by appealing to the testimony of the dove at his baptism, or the voice from heaven, but by citing the miraculous cures he was then performing. Nor did he in the least resent the doubt implied in John the Baptist's query. On the contrary, he immediately entered upon a glowing panegyric of his precursor, describing him as the messenger sent before his face to prepare his way, and as the prophet Elias who was expected to come—(Mt. xi. 1-15; Lu. vii. 18-30)—a title which in another Gospel the Baptist had expressly repudiated (Jo. i. 21). This remarkable transaction between the two teachers could not easily have occurred, if the elder had previously discovered "him that should come" in the person of Jesus. For then we must suppose that since the baptism he had seen reason to hesitate as to the correctness of his opinion. And in that case, could he have referred the question to Jesus himself for his decision? And could Jesus have employed the terms of praise here given, in speaking of one who had lapsed from his former faith into a state of doubt? Plainly not. The Evangelists have overshot the mark in their narrative of the baptism. Eager to make John bear witness to Jesus, they have forgotten that it was only at a later period that he was convinced—if he was convinced at all—of the Messianic claims of the young man who had passed under his influence, and derived from him some of his earliest inspirations. His doubts are historical; his conviction is mythical.

Temporary retirement into solitude naturally followed upon the consecration administered by John in the baptismal rite. Jesus spent some time wandering in a lonely place, the period of forty days assigned to this purpose being naturally suggested by the forty years of Israel's troubles in the wilderness. If there mingled among his meditations any lingering feelings of reluctance to follow the course pointed out by the Baptist, he would have afterwards described such feelings as temptations of the devil. Hence, it may be, the story of his conversations with Satan. These are not alluded to at all in Mark, who simply mentions the fact that he was tempted by Satan. Neither is there any reference in Mark to fasting for the whole of the forty days or any part of them. Greatly improving upon this bald version, the other two Synoptics tell us that he ate nothing during all this time, and describe the very words of his dialogues with the tempter. Satan had besought him to make bread out of stones; to cast himself down from a high place, and to accept at his hands all the kingdoms of earth in return for a single act of worship (Mk. i. 12, 13; Mt. iv. 1-11; Lu. iv. 1-13). Jesus, like the Buddha at the corresponding period of his life, emerged triumphant from the trial. It was by no means equal in severity to that which Sakyamuni underwent. He also was obliged to overcome the devil before he could attain perfection. "Mârâ, the sinner," the Indian Satan, assailed him not only by force of arms, despatching an immense army against him; but finding this onslaught a failure, he tried the subtler mode of attempting to corrupt his virtue by the seductions of women. His beautiful daughters were despatched with orders to display all their charms, and employ all their fascinations before the young monk. They faithfully executed the commission, but all was in vain. Calm and unmoved, the Bodhisattva regarded them with complete indifference, and emerged from this severest of trials a perfect Buddha (R. T. R. P., vol. ii. p. 286-327). In like manner Zarathustra was tempted by the Parsee devil, Angra-mainyus, who held out a promise of happiness if he would but curse the good law. Like Jesus, Zarathustra repelled the suggestion with indignation: "I will not curse the good Mazdayasna law, not even if limbs, soul, and life were to part from one another" (Av., vol. i. p. 244.—Fargard xix. 23-26).

Not long after his return from the desert, Jesus took up his abode at the village of Kapharnaoum, or Capernaum, in Galilee, Nazareth being in several ways uncongenial to him (Mk. ii. 1; Mt. iv. 12-16). In the first place it was the abode of his family, who did not believe in the pretensions he now began to advance. Moreover, he was well known to the Nazarenes as the carpenter, or the carpenter's son, and it seemed an unwarrantable presumption in their young townsman, undistinguished by advantages either of birth or education, to claim to become their teacher (Mk. vi. 3). His relations also not only discredited him by their unbelief, but occasionally took active measures to stop his proceedings (Mk. iii. 21, 31). From these and perhaps other causes, he entirely failed to accomplish any important miracle at Nazareth, and he had to excuse his failure by the remark that a prophet is not without honor except in his own country, among his own relations, and in his own house (Ibid., vi. 4). The more natural version—that of Mark—adds that he marvelled because of their unbelief. With less simplicity Matthew relates, not that he was unable to do, but that he did not do many mighty works there because of their unbelief (Mt. xiii. 54-58). Further confirmation of the incredulity of the Nazarenes is afforded by their reception of a remarkable sermon said to have been delivered by Jesus in their synagogue. It seems that after he had preached in various parts of Galilee, and had been well received, he came to Nazareth and, having read a Messianic prophecy from Isaiah, proceeded to apply it to himself. Having noticed the demand which he expected would be addressed to him, that he should repeat there such works as he was reported to have performed at Capernaum, he proceeded to convey by some pointed illustrations from the Old Testament the unflattering intimation that Nazareth was to be less favored by God than his adopted home. Hereupon a storm arose in the synagogue, and an effort was made by the enraged audience to cast him from the brow of a hill. But he escaped in safety to his own residence at Capernaum (Lu. iv. 14-30).

Whether or not any such sermon was preached or any such attempt upon his life was made, the narrative bears further witness to the fact of ill success in the town where he had been brought up, and to his possession of a house or lodging at Capernaum. Whether he himself was the owner of the abode, or whether it belonged to a disciple who received him (of which latter there is no evidence), makes little difference; the representation afterwards made that foxes had holes, and birds had nests, but the son of man had not where to lay his head (Mt. viii. 19, 20; Lu. ix. 57, 58), is equally negatived by either supposition. Mark and John know nothing of this condition of the son of man. In John's Gospel, indeed, it is distinctly contradicted by the statement that two of the Baptist's disciples asked him to show them where he lived; that he did so, and that they staid with him that day (Jo. i. 39). Indirect evidence of the same kind is afforded by the notice of an entertainment given by Jesus at his own house, to which he invited a very promiscuous company. Luke, indeed, represents this feast as having been given by Levi, but this is evidently for the sake of an artistic connection with the summons to Levi, which in all three narratives immediately precedes it. For the same reason he departs from both other Evangelists in making the scribes at this very feast put the question why Jesus and his disciples did not fast, which, according to the more trustworthy version, is put by the disciples of the Baptist (Mk. ii. 18-22; Mt. ix. 14-17; Lu. v. 33-39). Thus Luke contrives to convert three unconnected stories into a single connected one. That Jesus received the more degraded classes of his countrymen on equal terms, and that his habits were not ascetic, are the important facts which we have to gather from these several statements.

The inference from the evidence on the whole is that Jesus was in comfortable, though not opulent circumstances; and even had he been in want, he had friends enough whose devotion would never have allowed him to remain without a good lodging and sufficient food.

These friends he seems to have begun collecting round him as soon as he entered upon his career of preaching in Galilee. Among the earliest were four fishermen, Simon and his brother Andrew, James and his brother John. The first pair of brothers Jesus called away from their occupation, saying, "Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men" (Mk. i. 16-20; Mt. iv. 18-22). So say two Gospels, but a very different account appears in John. There we are told that two of the disciples of John the Baptist having heard Jesus, left their master to follow him. One of these two was Andrew, Simon's brother, and it was Andrew who went and informed Simon that he had discovered the Messiah. On seeing Simon, Jesus addresses him, "Thou art Simon the son of John; thou shalt be called Kephas" (Jo. i. 38-43). Not a word is said here of the calling of fishermen pursued by these brothers, nor of the remarkable promise to make them fishers of men. Moreover it is they who present themselves to Jesus; not he who summons them. The two accounts are mutually exclusive.

Luke has a third version, not absolutely irreconcilable with that of Mark and Matthew, though inconsistent in all its details. According to him, Jesus had once been speaking to the people from Simon's boat, which was lying on the lake of Gennesaret. The address concluded, he desired Simon to launch into the lake and let down the nets. Simon replied that they had toiled all night and caught nothing; yet he would obey. On casting out the net it was found to inclose so great a multitude of fishes that it broke. Simon called to his partners, James and John, to come to his assistance, and both vessels were not only filled with fish, but began to sink with the weight. Peter, ascribing this large haul to the presence of Jesus, begged him to depart from him, for he was a sinful man. Jesus told him, as in the other Gospels he tells him and his brother Andrew (who does not appear here), that he shall henceforth catch men. Hereupon all the three forsook all, and followed him; from which it must clearly be understood that they had not followed him before. Thus, that which the simpler version represents as a mere summons, obeyed at once, is here converted into a summons enforced upon the fishermen by a professional success so great as to appear to them miraculous, and to lead in their minds to the inference that since Jesus had commanded them to let down the nets, and their obedience had been thus rewarded, he was in some obscure manner the cause of the good fortune which had attended their efforts (Lu. v. 1-11).

Leaving aside for the present all that is peculiar to John, who alone mentions the calling of Philip, there is but one other disciple concerning whom we have any information as to the mode in which he was led to join Jesus. This is Levi, or Matthew, the publican. Jesus found him sitting at the receipt of custom, and commanded him to follow him, which he instantly did (Mk. ii. 14; Mt. ix. 9; Lu. v. 27, 28). But we are not compelled to suppose that from this time forward Levi did nothing but accompany Jesus or go through the country preaching the new faith. He may have done so, or he may only have left his business from time to time to listen to the prophet who had so deeply impressed him. For while three Evangelists mention this circumstance, only one of them, and that the least trustworthy, adds that in following Jesus he left all things.

The names of the other seven disciples are given with but a single variation in all of the synoptical Gospels (Mk. iii. 14-19; Mt. x. 1-4; Lu. vi. 12-16). To these twelve their master gave power to heal diseases and to cast out devils, and sent them forth into the world to preach the coming of the kingdom of heaven, giving them instructions as to the manner in which they should fulfill their mission (Mk. iii. 14, 15; Mt. x. 5-15; Lu. ix. 1-6). When not thus engaged, they were to remain about his person, and form an inner circle of intimate friends, to receive his more hidden thoughts, and help him in the work he had undertaken.

The four who were the first to join him seem to have stood towards him in a closer relationship than anyone else, and to have been in fact his only thorough disciples during the earliest period of his life. For we read that after the cure of a demoniac effected in the synagogue at Capernaum (Mk. i. 21-28; Lu. iv. 31-37), he retired into the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John, and there healed Simon's mother-in-law of a fever by the touch of his hands, a species of remedy which requires no miracle to render it effectual (Mk. i. 29-31; Mt. viii. 14, 15; Lu. iv. 38, 39). His reputation as a thaumaturgist had now begun to spread, and crowds of people besieged his door, whom he relieved of various diseases, and from whom he expelled many devils (Mk. i. 32-34; Mt. viii. 16, 17; Lu. iv. 40, 41). The anxiety of the devils to bear witness to his Messiahship he repressed, on this as on other occasions. Mentioning these circumstances, Matthew, ever prone to strengthen his case by the authority of a Hebrew prophet, cites Isaiah, "He himself took our infirmities, and bore our sicknesses." Certainly not a very happy application of prophecy; since it nowhere appears that Jesus bore the diseases he cured, or was possessed by the devils he expelled.

Anxious to escape from the pressure of the people, who clamored for miracles, he retired to a desert place to pray. But here Simon and others followed him and told him that all men were seeking him. He replied that he must carry his message to other villages also, and proceeded on a tour through Galilee, preaching and casting out devils (Mk. i. 35-39; Lu. iv. 42-44). It was on some occasion during this Galilean journey, when crowds, eager to hear his doctrine and see his wonders, had pressed around him from every quarter that he delivered the celebrated sermon the scene of which is laid by Matthew on a mountain, and by Luke in a plain (Mt. chs. v.-vii., inclusive; Lu. vi. 20-49). A part only of this discourse has been preserved to us, for Matthew has evidently collected into one a great number of his best sayings, which were no doubt actually uttered on many different occasions and in many different places. Luke, with more sense of fitness, has scattered them about his Gospel, assigning to some an earlier, to others a later date. Notably is this unlike arrangement remarkable in the case of the Lord's prayer, and in nothing is the untrustworthiness of these Gospels, as to all exterior circumstances, more conspicuous than in their assigning to the communication of this most important prayer totally different times, different antecedents, and different surroundings. For whereas Matthew brings it within his all-comprehensive sermon on the mount, Luke causes it to be taught in "a certain place" where Jesus was praying. The former makes Jesus deliver it spontaneously; the latter in answer to the request of a disciple; the former to a vast audience; the latter to the disciples alone (Mt. vi. 9-13; Lu. xi. 1-4).

Discrepancies like these evince the hopelessness of attempting to follow with accuracy the footsteps of Christ. We can obtain nothing beyond the most general conception of his movements, if even that; and of the order of the several events in his life we can have scarcely any notion. Discourses, parables, conversations, miracles, follow one another now in rapid succession. Leaving the consideration of the doctrines taught for another place, we will notice here, without aiming at a chronological arrangement, the principal scenes of his life; and, beginning with his miracles, we will take before any others those in which devils are expelled; or as we should say, maniacs are restored to sanity.

A strange miracle of this kind is related of a man in the country of the Gadarenes or Gergasenes. Matthew indeed, according to a common habit of his, has made him into two men, but the other two Evangelists agree that there was but one. This man was a raving lunatic, who had defeated every effort to confine him hitherto made, and who lived among tombs, crying and cutting himself with stones. Seeing Jesus, he addressed him as the Son of the Most High God, and adjured him not to torment him. On being asked his name, he said it was Legion, for they were many. Having been ordered out by Jesus, he begged for leave to enter into a herd of swine which was feeding near at hand; this was granted, and the herd ran violently down a steep place into the sea and were all drowned, their number being about two thousand (Mk. v. 1-20; Mt. viii. 28-34; Lu. viii. 26-39). After this wanton destruction of property, it is not surprising that the people "began to pray him to depart out of their coasts." Jesus on this occasion certainly displayed a singular tenderness towards the devils, and very little consideration for the unfortunate owners of the pigs. Nor did the Legion gain much by the bargain; for they lost their new habitation the moment they had taken possession of it.