As Nicole Langelier came to the end of his reading, the birds heralded
by Giacomo Boni filled the deserted Forum with their friendly cries.
The sky was spreading over the Roman ruins the ash-tinted veil of
evening; the young laurel-bushes planted along the Via Sacra lifted up
into the diaphanous atmosphere their branches black as antique bronzes,
while the flanks of the Palatine were clothed in azure.
“Langelier,” spoke M. Goubin, who was not easily deceived, “you did
not invent that story. The suit brought by Sosthenes against St. Paul
before Gallio, proconsul of Achaia, is to be found in the _Acts of the
Apostles_.”
Nichole Langelier readily admitted the fact.
“The story is told,” he said, “in chapter xviii., and occupies verses
12 to 17 inclusively, which I am able to read to you, for I copied them
on to a sheet of my manuscript.”
Whereupon he read:
“‘12. And when Gallio was the deputy of Achaia, the Jews made
insurrection with one accord against Paul, and brought him to
the judgment seat,
“‘13. Saying, This _fellow_ persuadeth men to worship God
contrary to the law.
“‘14. And when Paul was now about to open _his_ mouth, Gallio
said unto the Jews, If it were a matter of wrong or wicked
lewdness, O _ye_ Jews, reason would that I should bear with you:
“‘15. But if it be a question of words and names, and _of_ your
law, look ye _to it_; for I will be no judge of such _matters_.
“‘16. And he drove them from the judgment seat.
“‘17. Then all the Greeks took Sosthenes, the chief ruler of
the synagogue, and beat _him_ before the judgment seat. And
Gallio cared for none of those things.’
“I have not invented anything,” added Langelier. “Little is known of
Annæus Mela, and of Gallio, his brother. It is, however, certain that
they were numbered among the most intelligent men of their day. When
Achaia, a senatorial province under Augustus, an imperial one under
Tiberius, was restored to the Senate by Claudius, Gallio was sent
thither as proconsul. He was doubtless indebted for the post to the
influence of his brother Seneca; it is possible, however, that he was
selected for his knowledge of Greek literature, and as a man agreeable
to the Athenian professors, whose intellects the Romans admired. He
was highly educated. He had written a book on physiological subjects,
and, it is believed, some few tragedies. His works are all lost, unless
something from his pen is to be met with in the collection of tragic
recitations attributed without sufficient reasons to his brother the
philosopher. I have assumed that he was a Stoic, and that he held in
many respects the same opinions as his illustrious brother. But, while
placing in his mouth words of virtue and rectitude, I have guarded
against attributing any settled doctrine to him. The Romans of those
days blended the ideas of Epicurus with those of Zenon. I was not
incurring any great risk of being mistaken, when investing Gallio with
this eclecticism. I have represented him as a kindly man. He was that,
assuredly. Seneca has said of him that no one loved him in a lukewarm
fashion. His gentleness was universal. He aspired to honours.
“Quite the contrary, his brother Annæus Mela held aloof from them. We
have on that point the testimony of Seneca the philosopher, as well as
that of Tacitus. When Helvia, the mother of the three Senecas, lost
her husband, the most famed of her sons indited a small philosophical
treatise for her. In a certain part of this work, he exhorts her to
consider, in order to reconcile her to life, that there remain unto
her sons like Gallio and Mela, differing as to character, but equally
worthy of her affection.
“‘Cast thine eyes upon my brothers,’ he says, or words to that effect.
‘Both shall, by the diversity of their virtues, charm thy weary
moments. Gallio has attained honours through his talents. Mela has
despised them in his wisdom. Derive enjoyment from the regard in which
the one is held, from the calm of the other, and from the love of both.
I know the inner sentiments of my brothers. Gallio seeks in dignities
an ornament for thyself. Mela embraces a gentle and peaceful life in
order to devote himself to thee.’
“A child during the principality of Nero, Tacitus did not know the
Senecas. He merely collected what was currently said about them in his
day. He states that if Mela held aloof from honours, it was through
a refinement of ambition, and, a simple Roman knight, to rival the
influence of the consular officers. After having administered in person
the vast estates he possessed in Boetica, Mela came to Rome, and had
himself appointed administrator of Nero’s estate. The conclusion was
drawn therefrom that he was shrewd in matters of business, and he was
even suspected of not being as disinterested as he wished to appear.
That may be. The Senecas, while parading their contempt for riches,
were possessed of great wealth, and it is very hard to believe the
tutor of Nero when, amid the luxury of his furniture and his gardens,
he represents himself as faithful to his beloved poverty. Still, the
three sons of Helvia were not ordinary souls. Mela had of Atilla,
his wife, a son, Lucan the poet. It would seem that Lucan’s talent
reflected great lustre on his father’s name. Letters were then held in
high honour, and eloquence and poetry ranked above all things.
“Seneca, Mela, Lucan, and Gallio perished with the accomplices of
Piso. Seneca the philosopher was already an aged man. Tacitus, who
had not been a witness of his death, has portrayed the scene for us.
We know how Nero’s tutor opened his veins while in his bath, and how
his young wife Paulina protested that she would die with him, and by
a similar death. By Nero’s order, Paulina’s wrists, which had been
opened at the veins, were bandaged. She lived, preserving thereafter a
deathly pallor. Tacitus records that young Lucan, whilst under torture,
denounced his mother. Even if there were confirmation of this infamous
deed, the blame for it should be laid to the tortures he underwent.
But there is certainly one reason for not believing it. If indeed pain
extorted from Lucan the names of several of the conspirators, he did
not pronounce that of Atilla, since Atilla was not molested at a time
when every information was blindly credited.
“After the death of Lucan, Mela, with too great a haste and diligence,
seized on the inheritance of his son. A friend of the young poet, who
doubtless coveted the inheritance, became the accuser of Mela. It was
alleged that the father had been initiated into the secret of the
conspiracy, and a forged letter of Lucan was brought forth. Nero, after
having read it, ordered it to be shown to Mela. Following the example
set by his brother and so many of Nero’s victims, Mela caused his veins
to be opened, after having bequeathed a large sum of money to the
freedmen of Cæsar, in order to secure the remainder of his fortunes to
the unhappy Atilla. Gallio did not survive his two brothers; he took
his own life.
“Such was the tragic end of these charming and cultured men. I have
made two of them, Gallio and Mela, speak in Corinth. Mela was a great
traveller. His son Lucan, while yet a child, was on a visit to Athens,
at the time Gallio was proconsul of Achaia. There is therefore some
show of reason for saying that Mela was then with his brother in
Corinth. I have supposed that two young Romans of illustrious birth,
and a philosopher of the Areopagus, accompanied the proconsul. In so
doing, I have not taken too great a liberty, since the intendants, the
procurators, the proprætors, and the proconsuls whom the Emperor and
the Senate respectively sent to govern the provinces, always had about
themselves the sons of great families, who came to instruct themselves
in the management of public affairs under their guidance, and that of
men of keen intellect like my Apollodorus, more frequently freedmen
acting as their secretaries. Lastly, I conceived the idea that at
the moment St. Paul was being brought before a Roman tribunal, the
proconsul and his friends were conversing freely about the most varied
subjects, art, philosophy, religion, and politics, and that there
pierced the various topics absorbing their interest a deep anxiety as
to the future. There is indeed some likelihood that on that very day,
just as well as on any other, they may have sought to discover the
future destiny of Rome and the world. Gallio and Mela stood among the
most elevated and open intellects of the day. Minds of such a calibre
are at all times inclined to delve into the present and the past for
the conditions of the future. I have noticed in the most learned and
well-informed men whom I have known, to name but Renan and Berthelot,
a pronounced tendency to interject at haphazard into a conversation
outlines of rational utopias and scientific forecasts.”
“Here then we have,” said Joséphin Leclerc, “one of the best educated
men of his day, a man versed in philosophic speculation, trained in
the conduct of public affairs, and who was of as open and broad a mind
as could be that of a Roman such as Gallio, the brother of Seneca, the
ornament and light of his century. He is concerned about the future,
he seeks to grasp the movement which is most affecting the world, and
he tries to fathom the destiny of the Empire and the gods. Just then,
by a unique stroke of fortune, he comes across St. Paul; the future
he is in quest of passes by him, and he sees it not. What an example
of the blindness which strikes, in the very presence of an unexpected
revelation, the most enlightened minds and the keenest intellects!”
“I would have you observe, my dear friend,” replied Nicole Langelier,
“that it was not a very easy matter for Gallio to converse with St.
Paul. It is not easy to conceive how they could possibly have exchanged
ideas. St. Paul had trouble in expressing himself, and it was with
great difficulty that he made himself intelligible to the folk who
lived and thought like himself. He had never spoken word of mouth to
any cultured man.
“He was nowise capable of indicating a train of thought and of
following those of an interlocutor. He was ignorant of Greek science.
Gallio, accustomed to the conversation of educated people, had long
since trained his reason to debate. He knew not the maxims of the
rabbis. What then could these two men have said to each other?
“Not that it was impossible for a Jew to converse with a Roman. The
Herods enjoyed a mode of expression which was agreeable to Tiberius
and Caligula. Flavius Josephus and Queen Berenice discoursed in terms
pleasing to Titus, the destroyer of Jerusalem. We know that bejewelled
Jews were at all times to be found in company of the antisemites. They
were _meschoumets_ (accursed unbelievers--anathema to Paul). Paul was
a _nĕbi_ (prophet). This fiery and haughty Syrian, disdainful of the
worldly goods sought for by all men, thirsting after poverty, ambitious
of insults and humiliations, rejoicing in suffering, was merely able to
proclaim his sombre and inflamed visions, his hatred of life and of the
beautiful, his absurd outbursts of anger, and his insane charity. Apart
from this, he had nothing to say. In truth, I can discover one subject
only on which he might have agreed with the proconsul of Achaia. ’Tis
Nero.
“St. Paul, at that time, could hardly have heard any mention of the
youthful son of Agrippina, but on learning that Nero was destined to
Imperial power, he would immediately become a Neronian. He became so
later on. He was still one at the time Nero poisoned Britannicus. Not
that he was capable of approving of a brother’s murder, but because he
entertained a profound respect for all government. ‘Let every soul be
subject unto the higher powers,’ he wrote to his churches. ‘For rulers
are not a terror to good works, but to the evil. Wilt thou then not
be afraid of the power? Do that which is good, and thou shalt have
praise of the same.’ Gallio might perchance have found these maxims
somewhat simple and commonplace, but he could not have disapproved of
them as a whole. But if there is a subject which he would not have felt
tempted to approach while speaking with a Jewish weaver, it is indeed
the ruling of people and the authority of the Emperor. Once more, what
could those two men well have said to each other?
“In our own day, when a European official in Africa, let us say the
Governor-General of the Sudan for his Britannic Majesty, or our
Governor of Algeria, comes across a fakeer or a marabout, their
conversation is naturally confined within restricted limits. St. Paul
was to a proconsul what a marabout is to our civil Governor of Algeria.
A conversation between Gallio and St. Paul would have resembled only
too much, I imagine, that held by General Desaix with his famous
dervish. After the battle of the Pyramids, General Desaix, at the head
of twelve hundred cavalry, pursued into Upper Egypt the Mamelukes of
Murad Bey. On arriving at Girgeh, he heard that an old dervish, who had
acquired among the Arabs a wide reputation for learning and sanctity,
was living near that city. Desaix was endowed with both philosophy and
humanity. Desirous of making the acquaintance of a man esteemed of his
fellows, he caused the dervish to be summoned to headquarters, received
him with honour, and entered into conversation with him through an
interpreter.
“‘Venerable old man,’ he said, ‘the French have come to bring Egypt
justice and liberty.’
“‘I knew they would come,’ replied the dervish.
“‘How did you come to know it?’
“‘Through an eclipse of the sun.’
“‘How can an eclipse of the sun have informed you as to the movement of
our armies?’
“‘Eclipses are brought about by the angel Gabriel, who places himself
before the sun in order to announce to the faithful the misfortunes
which threaten them.’
“‘Venerable old man, you are ignorant of the true cause of eclipses; I
shall impart the knowledge of it to you.’
“Thereupon, taking a stump of pencil and a scrap of paper, he traced
some figures:
“‘Let A be the sun, B, the moon, C, the earth,’ and so forth...
“And when he had come to the end of his demonstration,
“‘Such,’ he said, ‘is the theory governing eclipses of the sun.’
“And as the dervish was mumbling a few words,
“‘What does he say?’ asked the General of the interpreter.
“‘General, he says that it is the angel Gabriel who causes eclipses, by
placing himself in front of the sun.’
“‘The fellow is simply naught but a fanatic!’ exclaimed Desaix.
“Whereupon he drove the dervish out with well-administered kicks.
“I imagine that had a conversation been entered into between St. Paul
and Gallio, it would have ended somewhat as did the dialogue between
the dervish and General Desaix.”
“It must, however, be pointed out,” said Joséphin Leclerc, joining
issue, “that between the Apostle Paul and the dervish of General
Desaix, there is at the very least this difference: the dervish did
not impose his faith on Europe. And you will admit that his Britannic
Majesty’s honourable Governor of the Sudan has doubtless not come
across the marabout who is to confer his name on the biggest church
in London; you must likewise admit that our civil Governor of Algeria
has never come face to face with the founder of a religion which the
majority of the French nation will some day believe and profess. These
functionaries have not seen the future arise before them under a human
form. The proconsul of Achaia did.”
“It was none the less impossible for Gallio,” replied Langelier, “to
carry on with St. Paul a steady conversation on some important subject
regarding morals or philosophy. I am well aware, and you yourselves
are not ignorant of the fact, that towards the fifth century of the
Christian Era, it was believed that Seneca had known St. Paul in
Rome, and had expressed admiration of the Apostle’s doctrines. This
fable owed its spread to the deplorable clouding of the human mind
following so closely upon the age of Tacitus and of Trajan. In order
to obtain credence for it, certain forgerers, who at that time swarmed
in Christian ranks, fabricated a correspondence which is mentioned
respectfully by St. Jerome and St. Augustine. If these letters are
those which have come unto us ascribed to Paul and Seneca, it must
be that those two Fathers did not read them, or that they greatly
lacked discernment. It is the absurd work of a Christian utterly
ignorant of everything connected with Nero’s time, and one totally
incapable of imitating Seneca’s style. Is it necessary to say that the
great divines of the Middle Ages firmly believed in the truth of the
intercourse between the two men and in the genuineness of the letters?
But the classical scholars of the Renaissance had no difficulty in
demonstrating the unlikelihood and the falsity of these inventions. It
matters little that Joseph de Maistre should have garnered by the way
this antiquated rubbish together with much of the same kind. No one any
longer heeds it, and henceforth it is only in pretty novels written
for society by skilful and mystical authors that the apostles of the
primitive Church converse freely with the philosophers and people of
fashion of Imperial Rome and expound to the delight of Petronius the
novel beauties of Christianity. The words of Gallio and his friends,
which you have just heard, are endowed with less charm and more truth.”
“I do not deny it,” replied Joséphin Leclerc, “and I believe that the
personages of the dialogue are made to think and speak as they must
actually have thought and spoken, and that the ideas entertained by
them are those of their day. Therein, it seems to me, lies the merit of
the work, and therefore do I reason about it just as if I were basing
my arguments on a historical text.”
“You may safely do so,” said Langelier. “I have not embodied in it
anything for which I have not the authority of a reference.”
“Very well then,” resumed Joséphin Leclerc, “so we have been
listening to a Greek philosopher and several Roman literati engaged
in speculation as to the future destinies of their fatherland, of
humanity, and of the earth, and seeking to discover the name of Jove’s
successor. The while they are absorbed in this perplexing quest, the
apostle of the new god appears before them, and they treat him with
contempt. I maintain that in so doing they plainly show a lack of
penetration, and lose through their own fault a unique opportunity of
becoming instructed concerning that which they felt so great a desire
to know.”
“It seems self-evident to you, my good friend,” replied Nicole
Langelier, “that Gallio, had he known how to set about it, would have
gathered from St. Paul the secret of the future. Such is perhaps the
first idea that springs to the mind, and it is one that many have
become imbued with. Renan, after having recorded, according to the
_Acts_, this singular interview between Gallio and St. Paul, is not
averse from discovering evidence of a narrow and thoughtless mind in
the contempt experienced by the proconsul for this Jew of Tarsus who
appeared before his tribunal. He seizes the opportunity thus offered to
lament the poor philosophy of the Romans. ‘What a lack of foresight,’
he exclaims, ‘is sometimes exhibited by intellectual men! In later
times, it was to be discovered that the squabble between those abject
sectarians was the great event of the century.’ Renan seems to believe
that the proconsul of Achaia had merely to listen to that weaver in
order to be there and then informed of the spiritual revolution in
course of preparation throughout the universe, and to penetrate the
secret of future humanity. And this is also no doubt what every one
thinks at first sight. Nevertheless, ere settling the point, let
us look more closely into the matter; let us examine what both men
expected, and let us find out which of the two was, when all is said
and done, the better prophet.
“In the first place, Gallio believed that the youthful Nero would be
an emperor of philosophic mind, govern according to the maxims of the
Portico, and be the delight of the human race. He was mistaken, and
the reasons for his erroneous assumption are only too patent. His
brother Seneca was the tutor of the son of Agrippina; his nephew, the
boy Lucan, lived on terms of intimacy with the young prince. Both
his family and his personal interests bound up the proconsul with
the fortunes of Nero. He believed that Nero would make an excellent
Emperor, for the wish was father to the thought. His mistake arose
rather from weakness of character than from lack of intellect. Nero,
moreover, was then a youth full of gentleness, and the early years
of his principality were not to give the lie to the hopes of the
philosophers. Secondly, Gallio believed that peace would reign over
the world after the chastisement of the Parthians. He erred owing to a
lack of knowledge of the actual dimensions of the earth. He erroneously
believed that the _orbis Romanus_ covered the whole of the globe; that
the inhabitable world ended at the burning or frozen strands, rivers,
mountains, sands, and deserts reached by the Roman eagles, and that the
Germani and Parthians peopled the confines of the universe. We know
how much weeping and blood this error, shared in common by all Romans,
cost the Empire. Thirdly, Gallio, pinning his faith to the oracles,
believed in the eternity of Rome. He was mistaken, if his prediction
is to be taken in a narrow and literal sense. But he was not so, if
one considers that Rome, the Rome of Cæsar and Trajan, has bequeathed
us its customs and laws, and that modern civilisation proceeds from
Roman civilisation. It is in the august square where we now stand that
from the height of the rostral tribune and in the Curia was debated
the fate of the universe, and the form of constitution which to the
present day governs the nations. Our science is based on Greek science
transmitted to us by Rome. The reawakening of ancient thought in the
fifteenth century in Italy, in the sixteenth century in France and
Germany, was the cause of Europe being born anew in science and in
reason. The proconsul of Achaia did not deceive himself: Rome is not
defunct, since she lives in us. Let us, in the fourth place, examine
Gallio’s philosophical ideas. No doubt he was not equipped with a very
sound natural philosophy, and he did not always interpret natural
phenomena with sufficient precision. He applied himself to metaphysics
as a Roman, _i.e._, with a lack of acuteness. At heart, he valued
philosophy merely because of its utility, and devoted himself mainly
to moral questions. I have neither betrayed nor flattered him when
placing his speeches on record. I have represented him as serious and
mediocre, and a fairly good disciple of Cicero. You may have gathered
that he reconciled, by dint of the poorest of reasoning, the doctrine
of the Stoics to the national religion. One feels that whenever he
indulges in speculation as to the nature of the gods, he is anxious to
remain a good citizen and an honest official. But, after all, he thinks
matters out, and reasons. The idea he conceives of the forces which
govern the world is, in its principle, rational and scientific and, in
this respect, it conforms to that which we have ourselves conceived of
them. He does not reason as well as his friend the Greek Apollodorus.
He does not argue any worse than the professors of our University who
teach an independent philosophy and a Christian antimaterialism. By
his open-mindedness and his strength of intelligence, he seems our
contemporary. His thoughts turn naturally in the direction followed by
the human mind at the present moment. Do not therefore let us say that
he was unable to recognise the intellectual future of humanity.
“As to St. Paul, he announced the future; none doubt the fact. And yet
he expected to see with his own eyes the world come to an end, and all
things existing engulfed in flames. This conflagration of the universe,
which Gallio and the Stoics foresaw in a future so remote that they
none the less announced the eternity of the Empire, Paul believed to
be quite close at hand, and was preparing for that great day. Herein
he was mistaken, and you will admit that this misconception is in
itself worse than all the united blunders of Gallio and his friends.
Still more serious is it that Paul did not base this extraordinary
belief on any observation or any reasoning whatever. He was ignorant
of and despised science. He gave himself up to the lowest practices of
thaumaturgy and glossology, and had no culture whatsoever.
“As a matter of fact, in regard to the future, as well as to the
present and the past, there was nothing the proconsul could learn
from the apostle, nothing but a mere name. Had he learnt that Paul was
of Christ’s religion, he would not have been any the better informed
as to the future of Christianity, which was within a few years to
disengage itself almost wholly from the ideas of Paul and of the first
apostolic men. Thus it will be seen, if one does not pin one’s opinion
to liturgical texts, and to the strictly verbal interpretations of
theologians, that St. Paul foresaw the future less accurately than
Gallio, and one will be inclined to think that were the apostle to
return to Rome nowadays, he would discover more cause for surprise than
the proconsul.
“St. Paul, in modern Rome, would no more recognise himself on the
column of Marcus Aurelius than he would recognise on the column of
Trajan his old enemy Cephas. The dome of St. Peter’s, the Stanze of
the Vatican, the splendour of the churches, and the Papal pomp, all
would offend his blinking eyes. In vain would he look for disciples in
London, Paris, or Geneva. He would not understand either Catholics or
Reformers who vie in quoting his real or supposed Epistles. Nor would
he understand the minds freed from all dogma, who base their opinion
on the two forces he hated and despised the most: science and reason.
On discovering that the Son of Man has not come, he would rend his
garments, and cover himself with ashes.”
Hippolyte Dufresne interrupted, saying:
“Whether in Paris or in Rome, there is no doubt that St. Paul would be
as an owl blinking in the sun. He would be no more fit than a Bedouin
of the desert to communicate with cultured Europeans. He would not know
himself when at a bishop’s, nor would he obtain recognition from him.
Were he to alight at the house of a Swiss pastor fed upon his writings,
he would astound him with the primitive crudity of his Christianity.
All this is true. Bear in mind, however, that he was a Semite, a
foreigner to Latin thought, to the genius of the Germani and Saxons, to
the races from which sprung those theologians who, by dint of erroneous
conceptions, mistranslations, and absurdities, discovered a meaning in
his counterfeit Epistles. You conceive him in a world which was not his
own, which can in no wise become his, and this absurd conception at
once gives birth to an agglomeration of incongruous presentments. We
picture to ourselves, to illustrate what I say, this vagabond weaver
sitting in a Cardinal’s coach, and we make merry over the appearance
presented by two human beings of so opposite a character. If you
persist in resurrecting St. Paul, pray have the good taste to restore
him to his race and country, among the Semites of the East, who have
not greatly changed these twenty centuries, and for whom the Bible and
the Talmud contain human science in its entirety. Drop him among the
Jews of Damascus or of Jerusalem. Lead him to the Synagogue. There
he will listen without astonishment to the teachings of his master,
Gamaliel. He will enter into disputation with the rabbis, will weave
goat-hair, live on dates and a little rice, observe the law faithfully,
and of a sudden undertake to destroy it. He will in turn be persecutor
and persecuted, executioner and martyr, all with equal keenness. The
Jews of the Synagogue will proceed with his excommunication, by blowing
into a ram’s horn, and by spilling drop by drop the wax of black
candles into a tub containing blood. He will endure without flinching
this horrible ceremony, and will exercise, in the course of an arduous
and continually menaced existence, the energy of a headstrong will. In
such circumstances, he will probably be known to only a few ignorant
and sordid Jews. But it will be Paul once more, and wholly Paul.”
“That may be possible,” said Joséphin Leclerc. “Yet you will grant me
that St. Paul was one of the principal founders of Christianity, and
that he might have imparted to Gallio valuable information concerning
the great religious movement of which the proconsul was entirely
ignorant.”
“He who founds a religion,” replied Langelier, “wots not what he
does. I may say almost the same of those who found great human
institutions, monastic orders, insurance companies, national guards,
banks, trusts, trade unions, academies, schools of music and the
drama, gymnastic societies, soup-kitchens, and lectures. Generally
speaking, these establishments do not for any length of time carry
out the intentions of their founders, and it sometimes happens that
they become diametrically opposed to them. It is as much as one can
do to trace after many long years a few vestiges of their founders’
original intention. In the matter of religions, at any rate among
nations whose existence is troublous and whose mind is fickle, they
undergo so incessant and so complete a transformation, according to
the feelings or interests of their faithful and their ministers, that
in the course of a few years they preserve naught of the spirit which
created them. Gods undergo more changes than men, for the reason that
their form is less precise and that they endure longer. Some there are
who improve as they grow older; others deteriorate with the years. It
takes less than a century for a god to become unrecognisable. The god
of the Christians has perhaps undergone a more complete transformation
than any other. This is doubtless attributable to the fact that he has
belonged in succession to the most varied civilisations and races, to
the Latins, to the Greeks, to the Barbarians, and to all the nations
sprung from the ruins of the Roman Empire. It is assuredly a far cry
from the wooden Apollo of Dædalus to the classical Apollo Belvedere.
Still greater a distance separates the youthful Christ of the Catacombs
from the ascetic Christ of our cathedrals. This personage of the
Christian mythology perplexes one by the number and variety of his
metamorphoses. The flamboyant Christ of St. Paul is followed, as early
as the second century, by the Christ of the Synoptic Gospels, a poor
Jew, vaguely communistic, who becomes, with the Fourth Gospel, a sort
of young Alexandrine, a milk-and-water disciple of the Gnostics. At
a later period, if we only take into account the Roman Christs and
tarry merely with the most famed of them, we have had the dominating
Christ of Gregory VII., the bloodthirsty Christ of St. Dominic, the
mob-leading Christ of Julius II., the atheistic and artistic Christ of
Leo X., the indeterminate and insipid Christ of the Jesuits, Christ the
protector of the factory, the defender of capital and the opponent of
Socialism, who flourished under the pontificate of Leo XIII., and who
still reigns. All those Christs, who have but the name in common, were
not foreseen by Paul. In reality, he knew no more than Gallio about the
future god.”
“You exaggerate,” remarked M. Goubin, who disliked exaggeration in
whatever form.
Giacomo Boni, who venerates the sacred books of all nations, here
pointed out that Gallio and the Roman philosophers and historians were
to be blamed for not having a knowledge of the Jews’ Sacred Scriptures.
“Had they been better informed,” he said, “the Romans would not have
harboured unjust prejudices against the religion of Israel; and, as
your own Renan has said, a little goodwill and a better knowledge
would perhaps have warded off fearful misunderstandings in regard
to questions of interest to the whole of humanity. There lacked not
educated Jews like Philo to explain the laws of Moses to the Romans,
had the latter been more broad-minded and possessed a more correct
presentiment of the future. The Romans experienced disgust and fear,
when face to face with Asiatic thought. Even if they were right in
fearing it, they were wrong in despising it. To despise a danger
constitutes a great blunder. Gallio displayed want of foresight when
stigmatising as criminal fancies and profanities of the vulgar the
Syrian beliefs.”
“How then could the Hellenist Jews have taught the Romans what they
were themselves ignorant of?” inquired Langelier. “How could that
honest Philo, so learned yet so shallow, have revealed to them the
obscure, confused, and fecund thought of Israel, of which he knew
nothing himself? What could he have imparted to Gallio concerning the
faith of the Jews except literary absurdities? He would have explained
to him that the doctrine of Moses harmonises with the philosophy of
Plato. Then, as always, cultured men had no idea of what was passing
through the minds of the multitudes. The ignorant mob is for ever
creating gods unknown to the literati.
“One of the strangest and most notable facts of history is the conquest
of the world by the god of a Syrian tribe, and the victory of Jehovah
over all the gods of Rome, Greece, Asia, and Egypt. Upon the whole,
Jesus was simply a _nĕbi_, and the last of the prophets of Israel.
Nothing is known about him. We are in the dark as to his life and
death, for the Evangelists are in nowise biographers. As to the moral
ideas grouped under his name, they originate in truth with the crowd of
visionaries who prophesied in the days of the Herods.
“What is called the triumph of Christianity is more accurately the
triumph of Judaism, and to Israel fell the singular privilege of giving
a god to the world. It must be admitted that Jehovah deserved his
sudden elevation in many respects. He was, when he attained to empire,
the best of the gods. He had made a very bad beginning. Of him it may
be said what historians say of Augustus, his heart softened with the
years. At the time when the Israelites settled in the Promised Land,
Jehovah was stupid, ferocious, ignorant, cruel, coarse, foul-mouthed,
indeed the most silly and most cruel of gods. But, under the influence
of the prophets, there came about a complete transformation. He ceased
being conservative and formal, and became converted to ideas of peace
and to dreams of justice. His people were wretched. He began to feel a
profound pity for all poor wretches. And although he remained at heart
very much a Jew and very patriotic, he naturally became international
when becoming revolutionary. He constituted himself the defender of
the humble and oppressed. He conceived one of those simple ideas
which captivate the world. He announced universal happiness, and the
coming of a beneficent Messiah whose reign would be peace. His prophet
Isaiah prompted him as to this admirable theme with words delightfully
poetical and of unsurpassed softness:
“‘The mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established in the top of
the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills; and all nations
shall flow unto it. And many people shall go and say, Come ye and let
us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob;
and he will teach us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths: for
out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from
Jerusalem. And he shall judge among nations, and shall rebuke many
people: and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their
spears into pruning-hooks.
“‘The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb and the leopard shall lie
down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling
together; and a little child shall lead them.’
“In the Roman Empire, the god of the Jews set himself to capture the
working classes and the social revolution. He addressed himself to the
unfortunate. Now, in the days of Tiberius and Claudius, there existed
within the Empire infinitely more unhappy than happy ones. There were
hordes of slaves. One man alone owned as many as ten thousand. These
slaves were for the most part sunk in wretchedness. Neither Jupiter,
nor Juno, nor the Dioscuri troubled themselves about them. The Latin
gods did not pity their condition. They were the gods of their masters.
When came from Judæa a god who hearkened to the complaints of the
humble, they worshipped him. So it is that the religion of Israel
became the religion of the Roman world. This is what neither St. Paul
nor Philo could explain to the proconsul of Achaia, for they themselves
did not see it clearly. And this is what Gallio could not realise.
He felt, however, that the reign of Jupiter was nearing its end, and
he predicted the coming of a better god. From love of the national
antiquities, he went for this god to the Græco-Latin Olympus, and
selected him of the blood of Jupiter, through aristocratic feeling.
Thus it is that he chose Hercules instead of Jehovah.”
“For once,” said Joséphin Leclerc, “you will admit that Gallio was
mistaken.”
“Less so than you think,” replied Langelier with a smile. “Jehovah
or Hercules, it mattered little. You may be sure of this: the son of
Alcmene would not have governed the world otherwise than the father of
Jesus. Olympian as he might be, he would have had to become the god of
the slaves, and assume the religious spirit of the new times. The gods
conform scrupulously to the sentiments of their worshippers: they have
reasons for so doing. Pay attention to this. The spirit which favoured
the accession in Rome of the god of Israel was not merely the spirit of
the masses, but also that of the philosophers. At that time, they were
nearly all Stoics, and believed in one god alone, one on whose behalf
Plato had laboured and one unconnected by tie of family or friendship
with the gods of human form of Greece and Rome. This god, through his
infinity, resembled the god of the Jews. Seneca and Epictetus, who
venerated him, would have been the first to have been surprised at
the resemblance, had they been called upon to institute a comparison.
Nevertheless, they had themselves greatly contributed towards rendering
acceptable the austere monotheism of the Judæo-Christians. Doubtless
a wide gulf separated Stoic haughtiness from Christian humility, but
Seneca’s morals, consequent upon his sadness and his contempt of
nature, were paving the way for the Evangelical morals. The Stoics had
joined issue with life and the beautiful; this rupture, attributed to
Christianity, was initiated by the philosophers. A couple of centuries
later, in the time of Constantine, both pagans and Christians will
have, so to speak, the same morals and philosophy. The Emperor Julian,
who restored to the Empire its old religion, which had been abolished
by Constantine the Apostate, is justly regarded as an opponent of
the Galilean. And, when perusing the petty treatises of Julian, one
is struck with the number of ideas this enemy of the Christians held
in common with them. He, like them, is a monotheist; with them, he
believes in the merits of abstinence, fasting, and mortification of
the flesh; with them, he despises carnal pleasures, and considers he
will rise in favour with the gods by avoiding women; finally, he pushes
Christian sentiment to the degree of rejoicing over his dirty beard and
his black finger-nails. The Emperor Julian’s morals were almost those
of St. Gregory Nazianzen. There is nothing in this but what is natural
and usual. The transformations undergone by morals and ideas are never
sudden. The greatest changes in social life are wrought imperceptibly,
and are only seen from afar. Christianity did not secure a foothold
until such time as the condition of morals accommodated itself to it,
and as Christianity itself had become adjusted to the condition of
morals. It was unable to substitute itself for paganism until such time
as paganism came to resemble it, and itself came to resemble paganism.”
“Granted,” said Joséphin Leclerc, “that neither St. Paul nor Gallio saw
into the future. No one does. Has not one of your friends said: ‘The
future is concealed even from those who shape it’?”
“Our knowledge of what the future has in store,” resumed Langelier,
“is in proportion of our acquaintance with the present and the past.
Science is prophetic. The more a science is accurate, the more can
accurate prophesies be drawn from it. Mathematics, to which alone
appertains entire accuracy, communicate a portion of their precision to
the sciences proceeding from them. Thus it is that accurate predictions
are made by means of mathematical astronomy and chemistry. One is
able to calculate eclipses millions of years ahead, without fear of
one’s calculations being found erroneous, as long as the sun, the
moon, and the earth shall preserve the same relations as to bulk and
distance. It is even permitted to us to foresee that these relations
will be modified in a far distant future. Indeed, it is prophesied,
on the strength of the celestial mechanism, that the silver hornéd
moon will not describe eternally the same circle round our globe, and
that causes now in operation will, by dint of repetition, change its
course. You may safely predict that the sun will become darkened, and
will no longer appear except a shrunken globe over our icy seas, unless
there should come to it in the interval some new alimentation, a thing
quite within the possibilities, for the sun is capable of catching
swarms of asteroids, just as a spider does flies. It is, however, safe
to predict that it will become extinguished, and that the dislocated
figures of the constellations will vanish star by star in the darkness
of space. But what does the death of a star amount to? To the fading
away of a spark. Let all the stars in the heavens die out just as
the grasses of the field wither, what matters it to universal life,
so long as the infinitely tiny elements composing them shall have
retained within themselves the force which makes and unmakes worlds?
It is safe to predict an even more complete end of the universe, the
end of the atom, the dissociation of the last elements of matter, the
times when protyle, when the amorphous fog will have reconquered its
illimitable empire over the ruins of all things. And this will form but
a breathing-spell in God’s respiration. All will begin anew.
“The worlds will again be born to life. They will live again to die.
Life and death will succeed each other for all eternity. All sorts of
combinations will become facts in the infinity of space and time, and
we shall find ourselves seated once more on the flank of the Forum in
ruins. But as we shall not know that we are ourselves, it will not be
us.”