buildings erected by eastern kings and, at the forum, philosophers walk about with their pupils from morning to night. In every alleyway there is a souvenir shop selling mostly cheap articles, but also expensive small copies of the temples and idols.
After paying the official visit of greeting to the City Hall and the Areopagus council, I went to the best inn and met there several young men from Rome who were finishing their education in Athens before beginning in office. Some of them praised their teachers, others listed famous Hetaira names and their prices, and eating places where I needs must go.
I was plagued by guides who wanted to show me the sights of Athens, but after walking around the marketplace for a few days and listening to different teachers, I became known and was left in peace. As far as I could make out, all the philosophers in Athens were competing with one another at teaching the art of acquiring peace of mind. They spoke with fire and wit, using striking metaphors, and liked disputing among themselves.
Among them were one or two long-haired philosophers in goat-skin clothes. These itinerant teachers boasted of having traveled in India or Ethiopia and studying secret wisdoms. They told such impossible lies about their journeys that they made their listeners double up with laughter. Some of the coarsest of them have been banished by the Areopagus council, but in general anyone could stand there and talk about anything as long as he did not insult the gods or become involved in politics.
I ate and drank and tried to enjoy my life. It was pleasant to sit in the sun on a warm marble bench after a good meal and watch the changing shadows of the passers-by on the marketplace’s marble paving-stones. Attic anecdotes are undeniably sharp. In a dispute, the one who has the laughs on his side always wins, but this Attic laughter seemed to me joyless and the thoughts behind it did not penetrate deeply into my mind as they ought to have done if they had been true wisdom. It seemed to me that what was being learned in Athens these days was a refined way of life to counteract the Roman coarseness, rather than genuine philosophy.
From sheer defiance, I thought I would stay and study in Athens until Proconsul Gallio sent for me to return to Corinth. But the books in the libraries did not captivate me, such was my state of mind, nor did I find a teacher whose pupil I wished to be. Day after day I became more despondent, feeling a complete stranger in Athens. Occasionally I ate and drank with young Romans simply to be able to speak crystal clear Latin instead of the babbling Greek.
Once I went with them to one of the famous Hetairas and listened to the flute music and watched the displays of dancing and acrobatics. I believed our smiling hostess when she said she could raise sensuality to a fine art. But she did not touch me and no one visiting her was forced to study the arts of the senses with the help of her trained slaves. She herself preferred to converse rather than go to bed with her guests. She demantled such an enormous sum that only the richest debauched old men could pay it. So she was so rich that she did not wish to tempt us young Romans to waste our money unnecessarily.
“Perhaps my school is only for those who are already decrepit,” she said to me in the end, “though I’m proud of my art. You are young. You know what hunger and thirst are. Resinous wine and poor man’s bread taste better in your hungry mouth than Cypriot wine and flamingo tongues in a mouth that is weary. If you fall in love with a young maiden, the sight of a bare shoulder alone would dazzle your senses more than fulfillment of your desire. Smooth out that frown and be glad of your life, because you are still young.”
‘Would you rather tell me about the divine secrets?” I suggested. “You serve Aphrodite with your art?”
She looked thoughtfully at me with her beautifully darkened eyes.
“Aphrodite is a capricious and merciless but also wonderful goddess,” she said. “He who strives for her favors most eagerly and sacrifices most to her, remains unsatisfied forever. She was born from the foam of the sea and is herself like the foam which bubbles and bursts. She herself dissolves into air when anyone avariciously grasps at her faultless limbs.”
She too frowned a little as she raised both her hands and absently stared at her scarlet nails.
“I can give you an example of her caprice,” she went on. “One of us is a woman who is still young enough to be without a wrinkle or a blemish. She has been a model for sculptors and has a great reputation as such. The goddess put it into her head that she must succeed in seducing all the famous philosophers who come to Athens to teach the art of virtue and self-control. In her vanity, she wishes to disgrace their wisdom and make them weep in her arms. She cracked many a hard nut by listening humbly to their teachings for evening after evening, and the philosophers praised her as the wisest of all women they had met, for she knew how to listen to them so attentively. But she was not after their wisdom. She used all her arts to make them stumble in their virtue. As soon as she succeeded, she drove them away and would not see them again, although some crawled on their hands and knees outside her door and one of them took his own life on her threshold. But some time ago, about six months or so, an itinerant Jew came to Athens.”
“A Jew!” I cried, leaping to my feet. My head prickled as if my hair were standing on end. The Hetaira misunderstood my surprise and went on.
“Yes, I know,” she said, “the Jews are powerful magicians. But this one was different. He spoke in the marketplace. He was questioned about his teaching by the Areopagus council, as is usual. He was a hook-nosed man, bald and bandy, but he was full of fire. The woman I am speaking of was seized with a wild desire to put the Jew’s teaching to shame too. She invited him to her house with other guests to listen to him, dressed herself demurely and covered her head to honor him. But whatever she did, she could not even tempt him, so she gave up and began to listen to him seriously. After he had left Athens, she became deeply depressed, shut up her house and now sees only the few Athenians who were impressed by the Jew’s teachings. The philosopher who can’t find a follower or two in Athens doesn’t exist. That was how the goddess took her revenge on her for her vanity, although she had brought great honor to Aphrodite. On my part, I’ve come to the conclusion that the Jew was not a genuine learned man but was bewitched by the goddess herself to resist all seductions. The poor woman is still so bitter over her humiliation that she threatens to leave our association and live a simple life on her savings.”
She laughed and gave me a look which was meant to encourage me to join in the laughter. But I felt no desire to do so. So she grew serious again.
“Youth flies swiftly past,” she admitted, “and beauty fades, but the true power of enchantment can be retained into old age with the favor of the goddess. I have an example of this in the woman who was until recently our oldest member and who at seventy could charm any youth.”
‘What is her name and where can I find her?” I asked.
“She is already ashes. The goddess allowed her to die of a heart attack in her own bed as she was practicing her art for the last time,” said the Hetaira.
“I don’t mean her, but the woman whom the Jew converted,” I said.
“Her name is Damaris. You can easily ask the way to her house. But I told you, she is ashamed of her misfortune and doesn’t receive guests anymore. What is wrong with my house?”
I remembered what courtesy demantled, praised her house, her entertainment, her sweet-smelling wine and her incomparable beauty, until she calmed down and forgot her indignation. After a suitable interval I rose, left my gift on a tray and went back to the inn in the most wretched state of mind. It was like a curse, that not even in Athens could I rid myself of Paul the Jew. Naturally he was the man of whom she had spoken.
I could not sleep for a long time. I listened to the night sounds of the inn until dawn crept into my room through the gaps in the shutters, and I wished I were dead or had never been born. I had nothing to grumble about. I was more succcssful than most of my contemporaries. I was healthy and whole, too, except for a slight limp, and that did not stop me doing anything unless I wanted to be a priest in some Roman collegium. Why had all happiness been taken from me? Why had Claudia so cruelly used my credulity? What made me despair so at meeting Paul?
Finally I fell into a deep sleep and slept until midday. When I awoke, I knew I had had a wonderful dream but I could not remember it. In contrast to my thoughts in the night, I had been filled with the knowledge that it was no chance matter that I had heard of the Hetaira Damaris, but that it contained some meaning. This conviction pleased me so much that I ate hungrily, went to a barber and had my hair curled. I also had my Greek mantle folded artistically.
I found Damaris’ handsome house quite easily. The door knocker was a Corinthian bronze lizard. I knocked many times. A man passing by made an indecent gesture and shook his head to show that I was waiting to no purpose. Finally the door was opened by a tearful slave-girl. She tried to close it again but I put my foot in and said the first thing that came into my head.
“In Corinth I met Paul the Jew. I wish to talk to your mistress. I want nothing else.”
