go and listen to your Jew and then tell you honestly what I think of him.”
His loyalty touched me. I thought it would be useful to know what Hierex in his own way thought of Paul.
“Yes, go to them,” I said. “Try to understand them and listen to Paul’s teaching.”
On my part I wrote a short report on Paul to Gallio, making it as formal as I could.
Minutus Lausus Manilianus on Paul:
I heard his teaching in his followers’ synagogue. I questioned him alone. He spoke openly. He did not try to gain my favor. He hid nothing.
He is a Jew of Jewish parents. Studied in Tarsus, then in Jerusalem. Formerly persecuted the disciples and followers of Jesus of Nazareth. Experienced a revelation. In Damascus, recognized Jesus as the Jewish Messiah. Stayed in the wilderness. Quarreled in Antioch with Simon the fisherman, Jesus’ chief disciple. Later reconciled. Received the right to proclaim Jesus as Christ to the uncircumcised.
Journeyed in the eastern provinces. Often punished. Tactics: First visits the Jewish synagogues. Proclaims Jesus the Messiah. Is beaten. Converts those listeners who take an interest in the Jewish God. Circumcision is not demantled. The Jewish laws need not be obeyed. He who believes that Jesus is Christ is pardoned and receives eternal life.
No rabble-rouser. Does not encourage slave rebellion. Encourages quiet life. Does not abuse others, only his own people. Powerful personal authority. Affects most those already infected by Judaism.
Note: Convinced that Jesus of Nazareth will one day return to judge the whole world, when God’s wrath will punish all others. So in some ways an enemy of humanity.
Politically quite harmless from Rome’s point of view. Causes splits and quarrels among the Jews. In this way, to Rome’s advantage.
I found nothing reprehensible in this man.’
I went to Gallio with my brief report. After reading it, he stole a glance at me and his chin trembled a little. “You are very laconic,” he said.
“That’s just a pro memoria,” I said, annoyed. “If you like, I can tell you more about the man.”
“What is his divine secret?” asked Gallio wearily., “I don’t know,” I said impetuously.
Then I bowed my head, trembled, and went on: “If I were not a Roman, I would perhaps put aside my tribune’s insignia, leave my post and follow him.”
Gallio gave me a searching look, straightened up and raised his chin. “I made a mistake sending you to find out,” he said curdy. “You’re still too young.”
Then he shook his head dejectedly.
“Yes, exactly,” he said. “The wisdom of the world and the pleasures of life have not yet corroded you. Are you ill that you tremble so? We have excellent plumbing here, but occasionally one drinks bad water. Then one gets a fever called Corinthian fever. I’ve had it myself. But don’t be afraid. I don’t think their Jesus of Nazareth will come to judge mankind in our time.”
Nevertheless, I think supernatural things interested Gallio, for he liked talking about them occasionally. What Roman is wholly free of superstition? But to change the subject, he invited me to drink wine with him, called in his wife to join us and began to read to us a play he had written and worked on in Latin from a Greek original. He also read some Greek verses in comparison to show how well, given the right touch, our language accommodates itself to the Greek rhythms.
The play was about the Trojan war. It should have interested me, for the Trojans, through Aeneas, were the forefathers of the Romans. But after drinking some wine, I happened to say, “Written Greek is beautiful, but today it rings strangely dead in my ears. Paul spoke the living language of the people.”
Gallio looked at me with compassion.
“One can only write the crudest kind of satire in the people’s language,” he said, “and then the language itself has a comic effect. Just as the Ostian actors in Rome use the language of the marketplace. Philosophy in spoken language! You must be out of your mind, Minutus.”
Suddenly he turned scarlet in the face and firmly rolled up his manuscript.
“It’s time those Jewish fumes were blown out of your head,” he said. “You’ve not been to Athens yet. There’s a border dispute in Delphi which needs someone on the spot. And there’s trouble in Olympia over the program for the Games. You can go here and now. My lecturer at the chancery will give you all the information you need and also a letter of attorney.”
The lovely Helvia stroked Gallio’s forehead and fat cheek with the tips of her fingers and intervened.
“Why do you send such a talented youth on such a strenuous journey?” she said. “The Greeks will bring their disputes to you in time. This is Corinth. Friendship with a mature woman would develop the boy more than riding unnecessarily all over the place.”
She looked past Gallio at me with smiling eyes and pulled up her mantle, which had slipped down from her white shoulder. Had I been more experienced, I could have described the artistic folds of her mantle, her elaborate hair style and the rare Indian jewelry she was wearing. I did not stop to stare but leaped to my feet, stood to attention and replied, “As you command, Proconsul.”
In this way, Paul sowed dissension between me and Gallio, too. I left my house in Hierex’s hands and rode from Corinth with a few soldiers from the cohort and a Greek guide.
There are far too many excellent descriptions of Delphi, Olympia and Athens for there to be any need for me to go into their incomparable sights. Not even Rome had hitherto succeeded in plundering them of more than a fraction of their art treasures, though it must be admitted that we have done our best ever since Sulla to enrich Rome at the expense of Greek treasures.
But however much I strained my body by looking at all the sights, the beauty I saw seemed to mean nothing to me. Neither the painted marble, nor the ivories, nor the gold in the loveliest sculpture in existence seemed to touch my heart.
I found out all about the boundary dispute in Delphi. For reasons of justice, I accepted invitations from both sides. In Delphi, I was able to see Pythia in her delirium with my own eyes. Her priests made out from her incomprehensible words one or two flattering personal predictions for me. I cannot even repeat them here.
Near Olympia lies some votive lands, and a temple which Commantler Xenophon more than four hundred years ago dedicated to Artemis. A tenth of the harvest from the area was once used for the inhabitants’ harvest festival. Anyone who cared te could pick fruit from the ancient groves of fruit trees.
But over the years, many landmarks had gone and the temple was sadly decayed. In the time of the Pompeians, even the goddess statue itself was taken back to Rome. The people who lived there were complaining that the man who had taken the votive lands into his possession no longer fulfilled the conditions demantled. They had carefully kept a stone carving on which one could still read:
This place is dedicated to Artemis. He who enjoys possession of it must every year offer a tenth. From the residue, the maintenance of the temple must he found. Should anyone neglect this, the goddess will remember it.
At the meeting of the people, some old men told of their memories from times gone by, when wine, flour and sweetmeats were distributed at the Artemis feast. Everyone had the hunting rights on the sacred land. I let them speak to a finish. The owner of the land finally promised that he would preserve the custom of the harvest festival but the maintenance of the temple was beyond his capacity. So I pronounced my judgment.
“This is not for Rome to decide,” I said. “This you must settle with the goddess, as it is written here on this stone tablet.”
The verdict pleased no one. While I was in Olympia, I heard that the owner had fallen down a crevasse while deer hunting, so I suppose
Artemis was collecting her dues. He had no direct heirs, so the inhabitants of the district harmoniously shared out the votive land among themselves. I put this incident in the back of my mind to tell Claudius if I ever met him again. The Emperor liked old memorial tablets and could easily have the temple repaired.
At last I arrived in Athens. As was the custom, I removed my armor at the city gates, put on a white mantle and a wreath on my head, and went on foot into the city, accompanied only by my Greek guide. I sent the soldiers on leave to Piraeus where they could amuse themselves under the protection of the Roman garrison at the port.
It is true, as I had been told before, that one can see more idols than people in Athens. There are fine
