CHAPTER XI
A mile and a
half, it may be two miles, southeast of Bethlehem, there is a plain separated
from the town by an intervening swell of the mountain. Besides being well
sheltered from the north winds, the vale was covered with a growth of sycamore,
dwarf-oak, and pine trees, while in the glens and ravines adjoining there were
thickets of olive and mulberry; all at this season of the year invaluable for
the support of sheep, goats, and cattle, of which the wandering flocks
consisted.
At the side
farthest from the town, close under a bluff, there was an extensive marah, or
sheepcot, ages old. In some long-forgotten foray, the building had been
unroofed and almost demolished. The enclosure attached to it remained intact,
however, and that was of more importance to the shepherds who drove their
charges thither than the house itself. The stone wall around the lot was high as
a man's head, yet not so high but that sometimes a panther or a lion, hungering
from the wilderness, leaped boldly in. On the inner side of the wall, and as an
additional security against the constant danger, a hedge of the rhamnus had
been planted, an invention so successful that now a sparrow could hardly
penetrate the overtopping branches, armed as they were with great clusters of
thorns hard as spikes.
The day of the
occurrences which occupy the preceding chapters, a number of shepherds, seeking
fresh walks for their flocks, led them up to this plain; and from early morning
the groves had been made ring with calls, and the blows of axes, the bleating
of sheep and goats, the tinkling of bells, the lowing of cattle, and the
barking of dogs. When the sun went down, they led the way to the marah, and by
nightfall had everything safe in the field; then they kindled a fire down by
the gate, partook of their humble supper, and sat down to rest and talk,
leaving one on watch.
There were six of
these men, omitting the watchman; and afterwhile they assembled in a group near
the fire, some sitting, some lying prone. As they went bareheaded habitually,
their hair stood out in thick, coarse, sunburnt shocks; their beard covered
their throats, and fell in mats down the breast; mantles of the skin of kids
and lambs, with the fleece on, wrapped them from neck to knee, leaving the arms
exposed; broad belts girthed the rude garments to their waists; their sandals
were of the coarsest quality; from their right shoulders hung scrips containing
food and selected stones for slings, with which they were armed; on the ground
near each one lay his crook, a symbol of his calling and a weapon of offence.
Such were the
shepherds of Judea! In appearance, rough and savage as the gaunt dogs sitting
with them around the blaze; in fact, simple-minded, tender-hearted; effects
due, in part, to the primitive life they led, but chiefly to their constant
care of things lovable and helpless.
They rested and
talked, and their talk was all about their flocks, a dull theme to the world,
yet a theme which was all the world to them. If in narrative they dwelt long
upon affairs of trifling moment; if one of them omitted nothing of detail in
recounting the loss of a lamb, the relation between him and the unfortunate
should be remembered: at birth it became his charge, his to keep all its days,
to help over the floods, to carry down the hollows, to name and train; it was
to be his companion, his object of thought and interest, the subject of his
will; it was to enliven and share his wanderings; in its defense he might be
called on to face the lion or robber - to die.
The great events,
such as blotted out nations and changed the mastery of the world, were trifles
to them, if perchance they came to their knowledge. Of what Herod was doing in
this city or that, building palaces and gymnasia, and indulging forbidden
practises, they occasionally heard. As was her habit in those days, Rome did
not wait for people slow to inquire about her; she came to them. Over the hills
along which he was leading his lagging herd, or in the fastnesses in which he
was hiding them, not unfrequently the shepherd was startled by the blare of
trumpets, and, peering out, beheld a cohort, sometimes a legion, in march; and
when the glittering crests were gone, and the excitement incident to the
intrusion over, he bent himself to evolve the meaning of the eagles and gilded
globes of the soldiery, and the charm of a life so the opposite of his own.
Yet these men,
rude and simple as they were, had a knowledge and a wisdom of their own. On
Sabbaths they were accustomed to purify themselves, and go up into the
synagogues, and sit on the benches farthest from the ark. When the chazzan bore
the Torah round, none kissed it with greater zest; when the sheliach read the
text, none listened to the interpreter with more absolute faith; and none took
away with them more of the elder's sermon, or gave it more thought afterwards.
In a verse of the Shema they found all the learning and all the law of their
simple lives - that their Lord was One God, and that they must love him with
all their souls. And they loved him, and such was their wisdom, surpassing that
of kings.
While they
talked, and before the first watch was over, one by one the shepherds went to
sleep, each lying where he had sat.
The night, like
most nights of the winter season in the hill country, was clear, crisp, and
sparkling with stars. There was no wind. The atmosphere seemed never so pure,
and the stillness was more than silence; it was a holy hush, a warning that
heaven was stooping low to whisper some good thing to the listening earth.
By the gate,
hugging his mantle close, the watchman walked; at times he stopped, attracted
by a stir among the sleeping herds, or by a jackal's cry off on the
mountain-side. The midnight was slow coming to him; but at last it came. His
task was done; now for the dreamless sleep with which labor blesses its wearied
children! He moved towards the fire, but paused; a light was breaking around
him, soft and white, like the moon's. He waited breathlessly. The light
deepened; things before invisible came to view; he saw the whole field, and all
it sheltered. A chill sharper than that of the frosty air - a chill of fear - smote
him. He looked up; the stars were gone; the light was dropping as from a window
in the sky; as he looked, it became a splendor; then, in terror, he cried,
"Awake,
awake!"
Up sprang the
dogs, and, howling, ran away.
The herds rushed
together bewildered.
The men clambered
to their feet, weapons in hand.
"What is
it?" they asked, in one voice.
"See!"
cried the watchman, "the sky is on fire!"
Suddenly the
light became intolerably bright, and they covered their eyes, and dropped upon
their knees; then, as their souls shrank with fear, they fell upon their faces
blind and fainting, and would have died had not a voice said to them,
"Fear
not!"
And they
listened.
"Fear not:
for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all
people."
The voice, in
sweetness and soothing more than human, and low and clear, penetrated all their
being, and filled them with assurance. They rose upon their knees, and, looking
worshipfully, beheld in the centre of a great glory the appearance of a man,
clad in a robe intensely white; above its shoulders towered the tops of wings
shining and folded; a star over its forehead glowed with steady lustre,
brilliant as Hesperus; its hands were stretched towards them in blessing; its
face was serene and divinely beautiful.
They had often heard,
and, in their simple way, talked, of angels; and they doubted not now, but
said, in their hearts, The glory of God is about us, and this is he who of old
came to the prophet by the river of Ulai.
Directly the
angel continued:
"For unto
you is born this day, in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the
Lord!"
Again there was a
rest, while the words sank into their minds.
"And this
shall be a sign unto you," the annunciator said next. "Ye shall find
the babe, wrapped in swaddling-clothes, lying in a manger."
The herald spoke
not again; his good tidings were told; yet he stayed awhile. Suddenly the
light, of which he seemed the centre, turned roseate and began to tremble; then
up, far as the men could see, there was flashing of white wings, and coming and
going of radiant forms, and voices as of a multitude chanting in unison,
"Glory to
God in the highest, and on earth peace, good-will towards men!"
Not once the
praise, but many times.
Then the herald
raised his eyes as seeking approval of one far off; his wings stirred, and
spread slowly and majestically, on their upper side white as snow, in the
shadow vari-tinted, like mother-of-pearl; when they were expanded many cubits
beyond his stature, he arose lightly, and, without effort, floated out of view,
taking the light up with him. Long after he was gone, down from the sky fell
the refrain in measure mellowed by distance, "Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace, good-will towards men."
When the
shepherds came fully to their senses, they stared at each other stupidly, until
one of them said, "It was Gabriel, the Lord's messenger unto men."
None answered.
"Christ the
Lord is born; said he not so?"
Then another
recovered his voice, and replied, "That is what he said."
"And did he
not also say, in the city of David, which is our Bethlehem yonder. And that we
should find him a babe in swaddling-clothes?"
"And lying
in a manger."
The first speaker
gazed into the fire thoughtfully, but at length said, like one possessed of a
sudden resolve, "There is but one place in Bethlehem where there are
mangers; but one, and that is in the cave near the old khan. Brethren, let us
go see this thing which has come to pass. The priests and doctors have been a
long time looking for the Christ. Now he is born, and the Lord has given us a
sign by which to know him. Let us go up and worship him."
"But the
flocks!"
"The Lord
will take care of them. Let us make haste."
Then they all
arose and left the marah.
Around the
mountain and through the town they passed, and came to the gate of the khan,
where there was a man on watch.
"What would
you have?" he asked.
"We have
seen and heard great things to-night," they replied.
"Well, we,
too, have seen great things, but heard nothing. What did you hear?"
"Let us go
down to the cave in the enclosure, that we may be sure; then we will tell you
all. Come with us, and see for yourself."
"It is a
fool's errand."
"No, the
Christ is born."
"The Christ!
How do you know?"
"Let us go
and see first."
The man laughed
scornfully.
"The Christ
indeed! How are you to know him?"
"He was born
this night, and is now lying in a manger, so we were told; and there is but one
place in Bethlehem with mangers."
"The
cave?"
"Yes. Come
with us."
They went through
the court-yard without notice, although there were some up even then talking
about the wonderful light. The door of the cavern was open. A lantern was
burning within, and they entered unceremoniously.
"I give you
peace," the watchman said to Joseph and the Beth Dagonite. "Here are
people looking for a child born this night, whom they are to know by finding
him in swaddling-clothes and lying in a manger."
For a moment the
face of the stolid Nazarene was moved; turning away, he said, "The child
is here."
They were led to
one of the mangers, and there the child was. The lantern was brought, and the
shepherds stood by mute. The little one made no sign; it was as others just
born.
"Where is
the mother?" asked the watchman.
One of the women
took the baby, and went to Mary, lying near, and put it in her arms. Then the
bystanders collected about the two.
"It is the
Christ!" said a shepherd, at last.
"The
Christ!" they all repeated, falling upon their knees in worship. One of
them repeated several times over,
"It is the
Lord, and his glory is above the earth and heaven."
And the simple
men, never doubting, kissed the hem of the mother's robe, and with joyful faces
departed. In the khan, to all the people aroused and pressing about them, they
told their story; and through the town, and all the way back to the marah, they
chanted the refrain of the angels, "Glory to God in the highest, and on
earth peace, good-will towards men!"
The story went
abroad, confirmed by the light so generally seen; and the next day, and for days
thereafter, the cave was visited by curious crowds, of whom some believed,
though the greater part laughed and mocked.
CHAPTER XII
The eleventh day
after the birth of the child in the cave, about mid-afternoon, the three wise
men approached Jerusalem by the road from Shechem. After crossing Brook Cedron,
they met many people, of whom none failed to stop and look after them
curiously.
Judea was of
necessity an international thoroughfare; a narrow ridge, raised, apparently, by
the pressure of the desert on the east, and the sea on the west, was all she
could claim to be; over the ridge, however, nature had stretched the line of
trade between the east and the south; and that was her wealth. In other words,
the riches of Jerusalem were the tolls she levied on passing commerce. Nowhere
else, consequently, unless in Rome, was there such constant assemblage of so
many people of so many different nations; in no other city was a stranger less
strange to the residents than within her walls and purlieus. And yet these
three men excited the wonder of all whom they met on the way to the gates.
A child belonging
to some women sitting by the roadside opposite the Tombs of the Kings saw the
party coming; immediately it clapped its hands, and cried, "Look, look!
What pretty bells! What big camels!"
The bells were
silver; the camels, as we have seen, were of unusual size and whiteness, and
moved with singular stateliness; the trappings told of the desert and of long
journeys thereon, and also of ample means in possession of the owners, who sat
under the little canopies exactly as they appeared at the rendezvous beyond the
Jebel. Yet it was not the bells or the camels, or their furniture, or the
demeanor of the riders, that were so wonderful; it was the question put by the
man who rode foremost of the three.
The approach to
Jerusalem from the north is across a plain which dips southward, leaving the
Damascus Gate in a vale or hollow. The road is narrow, but deeply cut by long
use, and in places difficult on account of the cobbles left loose and dry by
the washing of the rains. On either side, however, there stretched, in the old
time, rich fields and handsome olive-groves, which must, in luxurious growth,
have been beautiful, especially to travellers fresh from the wastes of the
desert. In this road, the three stopped before the party in front of the Tombs.
"Good
people," said Balthasar, stroking his plaited beard, and bending from his
cot, "is not Jerusalem close by?"
"Yes,"
answered the woman into whose arms the child had shrunk. "If the trees on
yon swell were a little lower you could see the towers on the
market-place."
Balthasar gave
the Greek and the Hindoo a look, then asked,
"Where is he
that is born King of the Jews?"
The women gazed
at each other without reply.
"You have
not heard of him?"
"No."
"Well, tell
everybody that we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship
him."
Thereupon the
friends rode on. Of others they asked the same question, with like result. A
large company whom they met going to the Grotto of Jeremiah were so astonished
by the inquiry and the appearance of the travellers that they turned about and
followed them into the city.
So much were the
three occupied with the idea of their mission that they did not care for the view
which presently rose before them in the utmost magnificence: for the village
first to receive them on Bezetha; for Mizpah and Olivet, over on their left;
for the wall behind the village, with its forty tall and solid towers,
superadded partly for strength, partly to gratify the critical taste of the
kingly builder; for the same towered wall bending off to the right, with many
an angle, and here and there an embattled gate, up to the three great white
piles Phasaelus, Mariamne, and Hippicus; for Zion, tallest of the hills,
crowned with marble palaces, and never so beautiful; for the glittering
terraces of the temple on Moriah, admittedly one of the wonders of the earth;
for the regal mountains rimming the sacred city round about until it seemed in
the hollow of a mighty bowl.
They came, at
length, to a tower of great height and strength, overlooking the gate which, at
that time, answered to the present Damascus Gate, and marked the meeting-place
of the three roads from Shechem, Jericho, and Gibeon. A Roman guard kept the
passage-way. By this time the people following the camels formed a train
sufficient to draw the idlers hanging about the portal; so that when Balthasar
stopped to speak to the sentinel, the three became instantly the centre of a
close circle eager to hear all that passed.
"I give you
peace," the Egyptian said, in a clear voice.
The sentinel made
no reply.
"We have
come great distances in search of one who is born King of the Jews. Can you
tell us where he is?"
The soldier
raised the visor of his helmet, and called loudly. From an apartment at the
right of the passage an officer appeared.
"Give
way," he cried, to the crowd which now pressed closer in; and as they
seemed slow to obey, he advanced twirling his javelin vigorously, now right,
now left; and so he gained room.
"What would
you?" he asked of Balthasar, speaking in the idiom of the city.
And Balthasar
answered in the same,
"Where is he
that is born King of the Jews?"
"Herod?"
asked the officer, confounded.
"Herod's
kingship is from Caesar; not Herod."
"There is no
other King of the Jews."
"But we have
seen the star of him we seek, and come to worship him."
The Roman was
perplexed.
"Go
farther," he said, at last. "Go farther. I am not a Jew. Carry the
question to the doctors in the Temple, or to Hannas the priest, or, better
still, to Herod himself. If there be another King of the Jews, he will find
him."
Thereupon he made
way for the strangers, and they passed the gate. But, before entering the
narrow street, Balthasar lingered to say to his friends, "We are
sufficiently proclaimed. By midnight the whole city will have heard of us and
of our mission. Let us to the khan now."
