by George Moore
Reviews were mixed, but public curiosity in the book was piqued about a month after publication by an Old Bailey court case alleging blasphemy, against Moore and the publisher, regarding Brook Kerith. The protagonist was Lord Alfred Douglas (better known as Oscar Wilde’s lover, “Bosie” – he was a devout convert to the Roman Catholic church by this time), whose solicitor claimed the book was “an affront and irreverence of the Christian religion”; the ending of the book came in for particularly scathing criticism and the whole work was declared by the prosecution to be an attack on the Christian faith. It was to no avail, as the case was quickly dismissed and the judge declared that Moore had every right to depict Jesus and his story in the way he did in the book. The case was very helpful in building sales of the book — it quickly went into a fourth edition, with 5,000 copies sold. Moore was in his sixties when he wrote the novel and it was considered a departure from his usual formats and storylines – certainly, compared to the relative terseness of his earlier, naturalistic works, this story borders on the verbose. However, in terms of subject matter, like many Victorian authors, Moore had touched on religion in his previous work. In Evelyn Innes and Sister Teresa he focuses on religious vocation and the cloistered life to the exclusion of most other topics. However, in the preface to Brook Kerith, Moore attributes his inspiration for the novel to the gift of a Bible from Mary Hunter (sister of Ethyl Smythe, the suffragette), eighteen years before. He had apparently been smitten with the Bible as a literary work since that time and it had inspired the novel. In 1914 Moore had visited Palestine, including Jerusalem and the Sea of Galilee, a trip which must have provided additional material for the story.
In October 1930, a play entitled The Passing of the Essenes was produced, based on the novel. Although Moore had been working on the production all year and had engaged Gustav Holst to write the score for it, he was disappointed in the end result. True to form, Moore revised the play the following year, but failed to obtain a further production.
The tale is a familiar one — the stories of three men, Joseph of Arimathea, Saul of Tarsus (St Paul) and Jesus — told as an historical novel, but with significant twists to the plot. Joseph is the son of a wealthy merchant in Galilee, but has little interest in the family business. He is a slight child of pale complexion, given to flights of the imagination and powerful dreams; his parents eventually send him to live in the hills with the shepherds in the hope of distracting him from his preoccupations, but he still wants to study Greek and Hebrew and the scriptures, not work with his father. The setting is a small village on the shores of Lake Galilee. Eventually, Joseph sets out in search of John the Baptist, who he has heard is preaching in the vicinity of the River Jordan. He then hears about a young preacher, Jesus of Essene, who is attracting huge crowds.
Joseph finds Jesus and is astonished when he recognises many of his disciples – notably Peter, James and John - they are fisherman that used to work for his father. Joseph is fascinated by this young rabbi and wants to follow him, but he has family responsibilities and must return home. However, their paths will cross again before too long, under the seemingly tragic circumstances and Joseph finds himself in a position to change the course of history…
The modern reader will not find this book an easy task if they are looking for what is known now as “potato chip” segments – sections to read quickly before bed, or during a commute or a waiting room stint. Some of Moore’s paragraphs extend to several pages in the 170,000 words of the first edition and he has inserted what can only be described as theological discourses. To add to the confusion, no quote marks are used and Moore employs a broad emulation of the style of the King James Bible, complete with thee and thou. The lack of quote marks does offer a certain bardic charm, a story that can be told lyrically and informally to an audience and it is easy to become accustomed to. The story has some appealing detail in it too, which gives an authentic feel to the times, whilst the characters are well drawn. Joseph as a small boy is particularly appealing. If nothing else appeals, it is worth persevering to find out how Moore treats the story of Jesus, the section of the book that is the most controversial one.
The first edition’s title page
CONTENTS
A DEDICATION
CHAP. I.
CHAP. II.
CHAP. III.
CHAP. IV.
CHAP. V.
CHAP. VI.
CHAP. VII.
CHAP. VIII.
CHAP. IX.
CHAP. X.
CHAP. XI.
CHAP. XII.
CHAP. XIII.
CHAP. XIV.
CHAP. XV.
CHAP. XVI.
CHAP. XVII.
CHAP. XVIII.
CHAP. XIX.
CHAP. XX.
CHAP. XXI.
CHAP. XXII.
CHAP. XXIII.
CHAP. XXIV.
CHAP. XXV.
CHAP. XXVI.
CHAP. XXVII.
CHAP. XXVIII.
CHAP. XXIX.
CHAP. XXX.
CHAP. XXXI.
CHAP. XXXII.
CHAP. XXXIII.
CHAP. XXXIV.
CHAP. XXXV.
CHAP. XXXVI.
CHAP. XXXVII.
CHAP. XXXVIII.
CHAP. XXXIX.
CHAP. XL.
CHAP. XLI.
Lord Alfred Douglas in 1903
A DEDICATION
MY DEAR MARY Hunter. It appears that you wished to give me a book for Christmas, but were in doubt what book to give me as I seemed to have little taste for reading, so in your embarrassment you gave me a Bible. It lies on my table now with the date 1898 on the fly-leaf — my constant companion and chief literary interest for the last eighteen years. Itself a literature, it has led me into many various literatures and into the society of scholars.
I owe so much to your Bible that I cannot let pass the publication of “The Brook Kerith” without thanking you for it again. Yours always, George Moore.
CHAP. I.
IT WAS AT the end of a summer evening, long after his usual bedtime, that Joseph, sitting on his grandmother’s knee, heard her tell that Kish having lost his asses sent Saul, his son, to seek them in the land of the Benjamites and the land of Shalisha, whither they might have strayed. But they were not in these lands, Son, she continued, nor in Zulp, whither Saul went afterwards, and being then tired out with looking for them he said to the servant: we shall do well to forget the asses, lest my father should ask what has become of us. But the servant, being of a mind that Kish would not care to see them without the asses, said to young Saul: let us go up into yon city, for a great seer lives there and he will be able to put us in the right way to come upon the asses. But we have little in our wallet to recompense him, Saul answered, only half a loaf and a little wine at the end of the bottle. We have more than that, the servant replied, and opening his hand he showed a quarter of a shekel of silver to Saul, who said: he will take that in payment. Whereupon they walked into Arimathea, casting their eyes about for somebody to direct them to the seer’s house. And seeing some maidens at the well, come to draw water, they asked them if the seer had been in the city that day, and were answered that he had been seen and would offer sacrifice that morning, as had been announced. He must be on his way now to the high rock, one of the maidens cried after them, and they pressed through the people till none was in front of them but an old man walking alone, likewise in the direction of the rock; and overtaking him they asked if he could point out the seer’s house to them, to which he answered sharply: I am the seer, and fell at once to gazing on Saul as if he saw in him the one that had been revealed to him. For you see, Son, seers have foresight, and the seer had been warned overnight that the Lord would send a young man to him, so the moment he saw Saul he knew him to be the one the Lord had promised, and he said: thou art he whom the Lord has promised to send me for anointment, but more than that I cannot tell thee, being on my way to offer sacrifice, but afte
rwards we will eat together, and all that has been revealed to me I will tell. You understand me, Son, the old woman crooned, the Lord had been with Samuel beforetimes and had promised to send the King of Israel to him for anointment, and the moment he laid eyes on Saul he knew him to be the king; and that was why he asked him to eat with him after sacrifice. Yes, Granny, I understand: but did the Lord set the asses astray that Saul might follow them and come to Samuel to be made a King? I daresay there was something like that at the bottom of it, the old woman answered, and continued her story till her knees ached under the boy’s weight.
The child’s asleep, she said, and on the instant he awoke crying: no, Granny, I wasn’t asleep. I heard all you said and would like to be a prophet. A prophet, Joseph, and to anoint a king? But there are no more prophets or kings in Israel. And now, Joseph, my little prophet, ’tis bedtime and past it. Come. I didn’t say I wanted to anoint kings, he answered, and refused to go to bed, though manifestly he could hardly keep awake. I’ll wait up for Father.
Now what can the child want his father for at this hour? she muttered as she went about the room, not guessing that he was angry and resentful, that her words had wounded him deeply and that he was asking himself, in his corner, if she thought him too stupid to be a prophet.
I’ll tell thee no more stories, she said to him, but he answered that he did not want to hear her stories, and betwixt feelings of anger and shame his head drooped, and he slept in his chair till the door opened and his father’s footsteps crossed the threshold.
Now, he said to himself, Granny will tell Father that I said I’d like to be a prophet. And feigning sleep he listened, determined to hear the worst that could be said of him. But they did not speak about him but of the barrels of salt fish that were to go to Beth-Shemish on the morrow; which was their usual talk. So he slipped from his chair and bade his father good-night. A resentful good-night it was; and his good-night to his grandmother was still more resentful. But she found an excuse for his rudeness, saying that his head was full of sleep — a remark that annoyed him considerably and sent him upstairs wishing that women would not talk about things they do not understand. I’ll ask Father in the morning why Granny laughed at me for saying I’d like to be a prophet. But as morning seemed still a long way ahead he tried to find a reason, but could find no better one than that prophets were usually old men. But I shall be old in time to come and have a beard. Father has a beard and they can’t tell that I won’t have a beard, and a white one too, so why should they —
His senses were numbing, and he must have fallen asleep soon after, for when he awoke it seemed to him that he had been asleep a long time, several hours at least, so many things had happened or seemed to have happened; but as he recovered his mind all the dream happenings melted away, and he could remember only his mother. She had been dead four years, but in his dream she looked as she had always looked, and had scolded Granny for laughing at him. He tried to remember what else she had said but her words faded out of his mind and he fell asleep again. In this second sleep an old man rose up by his bedside and told him that he was the prophet Samuel, who though he had been dead a thousand years had heard him say he would like to be a prophet. But shall I be a prophet? Joseph asked, and as Samuel did not answer he cried out as loudly as he could: shall I? shall I?
What ails thee, Son? he heard his grandmother calling to him, and he answered: an old man, an old man. Ye are dreaming, she mumbled between sleeping and waking. Go to sleep like a good boy, and don’t dream any more. I will, Granny, and don’t be getting up; the bed-clothes don’t want settling. I am well tucked in, he pleaded; and fell asleep praying that Granny had not heard him ask Samuel if he would be a prophet.
A memory of his dream of Samuel came upon him while she dressed him, and he hoped she had forgotten all about it; but his father mentioned at breakfast that he had been awakened by cries. It was Joseph crying out in his dream, Dan, disturbed thee last night: such cries, “Shall I? Shall I?” And when I asked “What ails thee?” the only answer I got was “An old man.”
Dan, Joseph’s father, wondered why Joseph should seem so disheartened and why he should murmur so perfunctorily that he could not remember his dream. But if he had forgotten it, why trouble him further? If we are to forget anything it were well that we should choose our dreams; at which piece of incredulity his mother shook her head, being firm in the belief that there was much sense in dreams and that they could be interpreted to the advantage of everybody.
Dan said: if that be so, let him tell thee his dream. But Joseph hung his head and pushed his plate away; and seeing him so morose they left him to his sulks and fell to talking of dreams that had come true. Joseph had never heard them speak of anything so interesting before, and though he suspected that they were making fun of him he could not do else than listen, till becoming convinced suddenly that they were talking in good earnest without intention of fooling him he began to regret that he had said he had forgotten his dream, and rapped out: he was the prophet Samuel. Now what are you saying, Joseph? his father asked. Joseph would not say any more, but it pleased him to observe that neither his father nor his granny laughed at his admission, and seeing how interested they were in his dream he said: if you want to know all, Samuel said he had heard me say that I’d like to be a prophet. That was why he came back from the dead. But, Father, is it true that we are his descendants? He said that I was.
A most extraordinary dream, his father answered, for it has always been held in the family that we are descended from him. Do you really mean, Joseph, that the old man you saw in your dream told you he was Samuel and that you were his descendant? How should I have known if he hadn’t told me? Joseph looked from one to the other and wondered why they had kept the secret of his ancestor from him. You laughed at me yesterday, Granny, when I said I’d like to be a prophet. Now what do you say? Answer me that. And he continued to look from one to the other for an answer. But neither had the wit to find an answer, so amazed were they at the news that the prophet Samuel had visited Joseph in a dream; and satisfied at the impression he had made and a little frightened by their silence Joseph stole out of the room, leaving his parents to place whatever interpretation they pleased on his dream. Nor did he care whether they believed he had spoken the truth. He was more concerned with himself than with them, and conscious that something of great importance had happened to him he ascended the stairs, pausing at every step uncertain if he should return to ask for the whole of the story of Saul’s anointment. It seemed to him to lack courtesy to return to the room in which he had seen the prophet, till he knew these things. But he could not return to ask questions: later he would learn what had happened to Samuel and Saul, and he entered the room, henceforth to him a sacred room, and stood looking through it, having all the circumstances of his dream well in mind: he was lying on his left side when Samuel had risen up before him, and it was there, upon that spot, in that space he had seen Samuel. His ancestor had seemed to fade away from the waist downwards, but his face was extraordinarily clear in the darkness, and Joseph tried to recall it. But he could only remember it as a face that a spirit might wear, for it was not made up of flesh but of some glowing matter or stuff, such as glow-worms are made of; nor could he call it ugly or beautiful, for it was not of this world. He had drawn the bed-clothes over his head, but — impelled he knew not why, for he was nearly dead with fright — he had poked his head out to see if the face was still there. The lips did not move, but he had heard a voice. The tones were not like any heard before, but he had listened to them all the same, and if he had not lost his wits again in an excess of fear he would have put questions to Samuel: he would have put questions if his tongue had not been tied back somewhere in the roof of his mouth. But the next time he would not be frightened and pull the bed-clothes over his head.
And convinced of his own courage he lay night after night thinking of all the great things he would ask the old man and of the benefit he would derive from his teaching. But Sam
uel did not appear again, perhaps because the nights were so dark. Joseph was told the moon would become full again, but sleep closed his eyes when he should have been waking, and in the morning he was full of fear that perhaps Samuel had come and gone away disappointed at not finding him awake. But that could not be, for if the prophet had come he would have awakened him as he had done before. His ancestor had not come again: a reasonable thing to suppose, for when the dead return to the earth they do so with much pain and difficulty; and if the living, whom they come to instruct, cannot keep their eyes open, the poor dead wander back and do not try to come between their descendants and their fate again.
But I will keep awake, he said, and resorted to all sorts of devices, keeping up a repetition of a little phrase: he will come to-night when the moon is full; and lying with one leg hanging out of bed; and these proving unavailing he strewed his bed with crumbs. But no ancestor appeared, and little by little he relinquished hope of ever being able to summon Samuel to his bedside, and accepted as an explanation of his persistent absence that Samuel had performed his duty by coming once to visit him and would not come again unless some new necessity should arise. It was then that the conviction began to mount into his brain that he must learn all that his grandmother could tell him about Saul and David, and learning from her that they had been a great trouble to Samuel he resolved never to allow a thought into his mind that the prophet would deem unworthy. To become worthy of his ancestor was now his aim, and when he heard that Samuel was the author of two sacred books it seemed to him that his education had been neglected: for he had not yet been taught to read. Another step in his advancement was the discovery that the language his father, his granny and himself spoke was not the language spoken by Samuel, and every day he pressed his grandmother to tell him why the Jews had lost their language in Babylon, till he exhausted the old woman’s knowledge and she said: well now, Son, if you want to hear any more about Babylon you must ask your father, for I have told you all I know. And Joseph waited eagerly for his father to come home, and plagued him to tell him a story.