These lessons, long hidden in the heart of the young Master, soon gathered around him a few disciples.  The spirit of the time favored small churches; it was the period of the Essenes or Therapeutae.  Rabbis, each having his distinctive teaching, Shemaia, Abtalion, Hillel, Shammai, Judas the Gaulonite, Gamaliel, and many others, whose maxims form the Talmud,[1] appeared on all sides.  They wrote very little; the Jewish doctors of this time did not write books; everything was done by conversations, and in public lessons, to which it was sought to give a form easily remembered.[2] The proclamation by the young carpenter of Nazareth of these maxims, for the most part already generally known, but which, thanks to him, were to regenerate the world, was therefore no striking event.  It was only one rabbi more (it is true, the most charming of all), and around him some young men, eager to hear him, and thirsting for knowledge.  It requires time to command the attention of men.  As yet there were no Christians; though true Christianity was founded, and, doubtless, it was never more perfect than at this first period.  Jesus added to it nothing durable afterward.  Indeed, in one sense, he compromised it; for every movement, in order to triumph, must make sacrifices; we never come from the contest of life unscathed.

[Footnote 1:  See especially Pirke Aboth, ch. i.]

[Footnote 2:  The Talmud, a resume of this vast movement of the schools, was scarcely commenced till the second century of our era.]

To conceive the good, in fact, is not sufficient; it must be made to succeed amongst men.  To accomplish this, less pure paths must be followed.  Certainly, if the Gospel was confined to some chapters of Matthew and Luke, it would be more perfect, and would not now be open to so many objections; but would Jesus have converted the world without miracles?  If he had died at the period of his career we have now reached, there would not have been in his life a single page to wound us; but, greater in the eyes of God, he would have remained unknown to men; he would have been lost in the crowd of great unknown spirits, himself the greatest of all; the truth would not have been promulgated, and the world would not have profited from the great moral superiority with which his Father had endowed him.  Jesus, son of Sirach, and Hillel, had uttered aphorisms almost as exalted as those of Jesus.  Hillel, however, will never be accounted the true founder of Christianity.  In morals, as in art, precept is nothing, practice is everything.  The idea which is hidden in a picture of Raphael is of little moment; it is the picture itself which is prized.  So, too, in morals, truth is but little prized when it is a mere sentiment, and only attains its full value when realized in the world as fact.  Men of indifferent morality have written very good maxims.  Very virtuous men, on the other hand, have done nothing to perpetuate in the world the tradition of virtue.  The palm is his who has been mighty both in words and in works, who has discerned the good, and at the price of his blood has caused its triumph.  Jesus, from this double point of view, is without equal; his glory remains entire, and will ever be renewed.