pected his might to interpose on their behalf, and if he was with them, or lent them his help, they would at once be saved from their distress. Perhaps this is the meaning of the story in Mark, or his authority. But the first Gospel gives us a different impression, and has, we are inclined to think, preserved the original meaning more faithfully. Here another figure appears upon the canvas, probably painted in by a later hand, and removes the possibility of doubt as to the meaning of the picture. When Jesus had striven to calm his terrified disciples, Peter, says the Gospel of Matthew, cried out from the ship, "Lord! if it is you, command me to come to you on the water." "Come then!" answered Jesus. Then Peter dropped from the ship and began to walk upon the water to him. But when he saw how the fierce gusts of wind were lashing the waves he was afraid, and immediately began to sink. "Lord! help me," he cried in terror, and Jesus put out his hand and seized him, with the words of gentle but serious rebuke, "Why did you doubt, O you of little faith?" As soon as they had ascended the boat the wind was hushed, and the men bowed down before Jesus and confessed: “ Truly thou art the son of God!"

The picture is now as clear as we could wish. Jesus, in the might of prayer, walks calmly through the storm on the raging billows of the world.1 But his disciples, though their danger is far less than his, are beside themselves with fear. There is but one of them who has a moment's courage, and even his heart sinks almost directly. But for the delivering hand of Jesus he would perish. He lacks the mighty faith which makes all things possible to Jesus.

It almost seems as if the three pictures of the Master himself, of the disciples, and of Peter, must be meant to refer to the events of the last evening of the life of Jesus.

2

1 Compare Job ix. 8; Daniel vii. 2; Revelation xiii. 1. Compare Luke xxii. 32.

3 Compare Matthew xvii. 20.

But apart from personal references the story of the walking on the sea is a masterpiece. An art-critic of the highest rank1 has assigned it a place of honour amongst legends that excel in beauty and depth of meaning, for it puts, as it were, before our very eyes this weighty truth: Man can overcome the extremest difficulties and obstacles in the fulfilment of his task as long as he is supported by the ever fresh courage of faith, but no sooner does the smallest fear creep over him than he is lost.

No man has ever exemplified this power of faith more strikingly than Jesus.

W

CHAPTER XXII.

THE GATHERING STORM.

MATTHEW XIV. 1–13a, xv. 1-20; LUKE XIII. 31-33.2

ITHIN a few months, at most, after the commencement of the ministry of Jesus, clouds had already begun to appear on the horizon; but they had gradually risen in greater number, and were now gathering darkly over the Master's head. If the Evangelists had strictly followed the order of time in their narratives, the whole course of events would be clear to us, and we should understand how the relations between Jesus and the established powers became more and more strained, and the opposition to him grew in intensity. Even as it is, though our authorities often arrange their materials with reference to the subject matter rather than the sequence of time, we may still follow the course of events with tolerable certainty; but to do so we must set aside certain isolated and incorrect statements to the effect that the enemies of Jesus had laid plots to get him out of the way, even at an early period. Our general impression 2 Mark vi. 14-29, vii. 1-23; Luke ix. 7-9. Mark iii. 6; (Matthew xii. 14).

1 Goethe.

then is, that after Jesus had been at work for perhaps something less than a year, the storm began to gather from two quarters. The friendly disposition or complete indifference with which the popular leader of Nazareth and the new Messianic movement in Galilee were at first regarded now gave way to a hostile and even definitely aggressive line of conduct, in which it appears that the civil as well as the religious authorities took part.

Let us begin with an event which must have moved Jesus deeply, both on its own account and as an omen of the fate he had to expect himself. This event was the death of John. The account we have of it runs as follows :—

The prophet of the wilderness paid, by the loss of his liberty, for his boldness in rebuking the tetrarch's marriage with his half-brother's wife.1 The only reason why he was not put to death at once was that Herod shrank from exasperating the multitudes too much, and they reverenced John as a prophet. According to other authorities, Herodias desired the prophet's death, but her husband protected him; for once he had summoned him into his presence and had received so strong an impression of his uprightness and sanctity that he had ever since entertained a feeling of awe towards him, and had protected him from every injury. In fact, although the prophet's exhortations always threw him into great dejection and perplexity, he could not help sending for him repeatedly. All this did but confirm Herodias in her murderous design, for the implacable hatred of the offended woman was still further heightened by fear for her own future when she saw what a hold the prophet was evidently gaining upon the prince himself.

At last her opportunity came. It was Herod's birthday, or perhaps the anniversary of his accession to the throne. The grandees of the kingdom, the captains of the army, and

1 See p. 156.

the heads of the most distinguished families were invited to court to give lustre to the feast. The splendour displayed was dazzling, the pleasures offered to the distinguished guests overpowered the senses, boundless prodigality and entrancing luxury reigned supreme. Herodias had prepared a surprise for the guests. The feast was far advanced when Herod's step-daughter was announced. As soon as she was admitted, she begged her prince and step-father to allow her to dance for the entertainment of his guests. Could a princess deign to display herself like a common dancing girl before so many unchaste eyes? Had she no motive but affectionate attention to the founder of the feast? Herod had no suspicion, and readily accepted her offer. Then Salome, for so the girl was called, began. She threw herself into every bewitching attitude or movement which the very perfection of art admitted; and as her lovely form glanced or floated before their eyes, the spectators were so enraptured by her gracethat they all gazed upon her in speechless admiration, till a great burst of applause greeted the close of her performance. Herod himself was transported with delight, and signified his pleasure by a promise of princely magnificence. "Ask what you will, and you shall have it." And when she seemed at first to decline any recompense, he repeated with a mighty oath, "Name your boon! for it shall be granted, though it were half my kingdom! "Then bring me the head of John the Baptist here on a salver!" she cried, for her mother had taught her her lesson well. Herod was thunderstruck by the request; but however deeply moved, he dare not break the oath that he had sworn, especially in the presence of all his guests. So he gave the murderous command against which his heart revolted. A guard was instantly despatched to the prison, where he did the wretched deed; and immediately the prophet's severed head was brought to the princess on a salver. She took it, and thanking the prince

for his favour, retired to bear the reward of her art to her mother. Herodias was avenged, and could now rest in peace.

When the disciples of John heard of their master's fatal end, they begged for the body, and gave it an honourable burial. Then they went to Jesus and told him all that had occurred, upon which he left his work for a little while, took ship, and retired to a solitary place on the other side of the lake.

Not long afterwards the name of Jesus happened to be mentioned in connection with that of his predecessor at Herod's court. At that time divers opinions concerning him prevailed amongst the mass of his followers, some held him to be Elijah, and others some one of the old prophets. But when his fame reached Herod, the monarch's conscience smote him heavily, and he said to his courtiers, "I believe he is John the Baptist himself, whom I beheaded! He is risen from the realms of death, and that is why he has such wondrous powers. So he longed for an opportunity of seeing

him. He would have one soon.

This eminently dramatic story certainly cannot be accepted as it stands. It betrays too much art in its striking contrasts between the manners of the court and the person of the prophet. We have already seen that the occasion of John's imprisonment is not correctly given by the Gospels. That such a man as Herod "delighted in hearing" John is, to say the least, an exaggeration. The ghastly scene in which the prophet's head is carried into the festive hall may not be quite impossible in such an age and at such a court, but it is hardly probable. It is easy to see that Herodias is drawn after the model of Ahab's wife, who hated and persecuted the first Elijah,1 and Salome is evidently copied from Esther, for she, too, visits the prince by surprise, captivates him by her beauty, obtains a promise of anything up to the half of his

1 1 Kings xix. 2, xxi. 25.