“I would gladly have added some words concerning the rising of Christus from the dead, but the merchant by whom you will receive this, being now about to set forth, and the messenger no longer able to wait, I must defer what more I have to say to a second letter. Farewell.”
§ 8. OF THE RISING OF CHRISTUS FROM THE DEAD
“ONESIMUS TO ARTEMIDORUS, HEALTH.
“The Tradition, as I have said before, is silent concerning the rising of Christus from the dead; but in divers churches divers manifestations are reported; concerning which I questioned Simeon, asking him whether he himself had spoken with any that had seen Christus risen from the dead. He said, ‘Yes, assuredly, with at least ten persons, of whom one was Paulus, to whom Christus appeared ten years after his death.’ Then I questioned him whether these men had touched Christus, or only seen him. He made reply that they had seen him but not touched him. Then I asked him how they that saw him knew that it was he indeed, and no phantom, or perchance some evil spirit deceiving them. He made reply that Christus had showed unto them his hands and feet, bearing the wounds of the cross; and further, that phantoms appear not to many assembled in one place, but only to solitary persons, whereas Christus had appeared oftentimes to large numbers of his disciples. He said also that it was currently reported that Christus had suffered one of his followers, who doubted, to touch his side; and that he had eaten in the presence of many; and that he had said ‘Handle me and see that I am not a bodiless demon’; but all these things, he confessed, were not in the Tradition. Also, in answer to my further questioning, he said that no enemy of Christus had seen him after death, nor had any save those that loved him most dearly; nor had any been converted to the side of Christus by thus seeing him, save only one, namely that same Paulus, about whom I have more than once made mention, who, about ten years after the death of Christus, while grievously persecuting the church, and after he had slain many of the Christians, had suddenly been changed from an enemy to a friend, by seeing Christus and hearing words from him.
“The sum of all seems to be that the body of Christus was not indeed raised from the grave—for that were against all course of nature; and besides, if it had been so, why was the Tradition silent on the proofs of so great a wonder?—but that some kind of image or phantasm of the mind represented him to his followers after his decease. And musing often on the matter I have called to mind how many relations are current of the apparitions of the deceased, and how they may be explained according to nature. For after looking intently on the sun, the eye, being closed, sees an image of the sun floating through the air; and methinks in somewhat the same fashion those followers of Christus who best loved him, and to whom he was as the sun and brightness of life, suddenly finding themselves bereft of him and in the darkness of sorrow, might perchance—even in the course of nature—receive an image of him so imprinted on their minds that even the eye itself might be enslaved to the mind’s desire, and be impressed with the same image. Still the marvel is that it appeared not only to many at once—which, if the influence were more than commonly powerful, might possibly come to pass—but even to an enemy, namely Paulus, which cannot be so easily explained. However, I have no other answer to this riddle; and yet of late I have pondered for hours together on the answer, wandering as it were in a labyrinth of questions and riddles and problems, and sometimes catching a clue, and then losing it, and as far as ever from the truth.
“But whatever be the answer, these Christians are of a certainty rather deceived than deceiving others; for no one can have had to do with them, as I have, without perceiving that they are altogether devoted to virtue. And this indeed is a marvel of marvels, how this Christus should have had the power to turn so many thousands of souls to virtue, being many of them base and vile and given to all vice, and most of them of the common sort with no natural magnanimity or nobleness, and all, with few exceptions, unlearned and illiterate. Yet even this ill-ordered and confused rabble, Christus hath been able so to transmute and temper and purify that, out of so many thousands, there is scarce one that would not be willing to lay down his life, I say not merely for the name of Christus himself, but even for his ‘brethren,’ as he calls them, that is to say, the cobblers and water-carriers and camel-drivers who sit beside him in the synagogue.
“And this brings me to your last question, what it is in this religion of Christus which naturally draws the common people to it? Now were I to reply that it is the hope of blessedness or the dread of punishment after death, you would reasonably rejoin that these hopes and fears are held out by other religions, yet have little strength to prevent evil doing. And were I to give as reason the great concord which binds all these Christians together, you would no less reasonably ask me whence comes this same concord? Lastly, were I to add (for this is indeed one reason) that the common people are drawn by the power which these Christians possess (although it is but in the course of nature) to cure certain diseases suddenly by working on the imaginations of men, still Artemidorus would be dissatisfied and would inquire, whence came this power?
“Wherefore, although sorely perplexed and more perturbed than might perhaps become a student of philosophy, I confess that I can allege no other cause for the power of this Christian religion than Christus himself, that is to say, some kind of influence arising from the memory of Christus which he seems to have transmitted to his first disciples, and they to others, and so on till at last a very great multitude is infected with it, and seems likely to infect many more. Now if you ask me what plan of philosophy I have discovered in the Tradition, or what sayings of Christus lead me to attribute so great a power to his influence, I must answer that as the Tradition is not written, I have not been able to write down more than a few sentences of it, nor indeed have I had leisure for this till now, for I gave all my mind at first to the inquiry concerning the general tenor of the doctrine of the Christians. Nevertheless some few sayings of Christus which I have set down, ring again and again in my ears like some spell or incantation not to be forgotten, as if they would almost persuade me contrary to sense and reason that he was indeed a purifier of the human race.
“How greatly is the mind perplexed when it compares Christus with other philosophers! Must we not suppose Socrates, must we not deem Pythagoras, superior by far to this Christus? And yet who would die for the name of Pythagoras or Socrates? Or perhaps the merit is not in the man himself, but in some secret art which he has discovered, or happened on, by chance, of uniting men together and implanting in them the love of well-doing. Of such an art I sometimes think I have discovered signs in those sayings of Christus which have come to my knowledge. But when I have studied them more fully I will write to you further on this matter. Farewell.”
§ 9. HOW ARTEMIDORUS BADE ME CEASE FROM FURTHER INQUIRY
Being somewhat alarmed by my last letter (so he confessed to me afterwards) lest I should not only permit Philemon to join himself to the Christians, but also become a Christian myself, Artemidorus wrote to me as follows, more vehemently than became a philosopher.
“ARTEMIDORUS TO ONESIMUS, HEALTH.
“If I bade you make further inquiry concerning the mad doctrines of this mad leader of madmen, I do so no longer. He who converses with lunatics more than is fit is in danger to become himself infected with their insane delusions.
“Besides, what possibility is there that you should attain to the truth? What aids have you, what instruments? There are none. No witnesses, no written documents, no regard for truth, no power of reasoning, no faculty of distinguishing things in the course of nature from things against nature. Amid such a chaos you are fighting against error with your hands tied. Cease then, I beseech you, from your vain attempt to build where there is no foundation. But do your utmost to induce the worthy Philemon to return home with all speed, lest he be entangled in the cobweb of this imbecile superstition; and lest perchance even Onesimus at last, by frequent converse with these miracle-mongers and forgers, suffer his regard for truth to be so far blunted that he himself may be tempted to gloss over and excuse their impostures.”
§ 10. HOW I STUMBLED AT THE THRESHOLD OF THE DOOR AND WENT NOT IN
I take shame to myself that I was not in any such danger as Artemidorus supposed, of becoming a Christian at this time. Had I, indeed, been enabled to pursue the study of the words of the Lord Jesus, perchance having been thus led to know him I might have entered into the fold at once and so have been spared much misery. But it was not so to be. For, on the very day that I wrote the last letter to Artemidorus, it pleased Philemon to set out suddenly for Jerusalem, nothing contenting him but that we should visit the Christians, as he said, in the place which was the centre and source of the sect. Now those disciples with whom we conversed in the Holy City were of the straiter sect of the Jewish Christians, all of them maintaining that it was fit to come into the Church by first accepting the Law of Moses, and that the uncircumcised, albeit Christians of a certain sort, were inferior in righteousness to them that had received circumcision. And they spoke against Paulus and all others that denied the need of circumcision, saying that Paulus was no safe guide but a teacher of heresy.
In part the narrowness of these brethren, in part the newness of the sights which I saw in Jerusalem, and in part also the fear that I had, lest by becoming superstitious I should fall below the rank of a philosopher and lose the esteem of Artemidorus, caused me to harden my heart against the promptings of the Holy Spirit which would fain have led me to the Lord Jesus. But, in spite of all my efforts, certain of the words of the Lord (both then and for many months afterwards) kept coming to my mind, and in particular these: “There is more joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth than over ninety and nine persons that need no repentance,” and again, “Come unto me all ye that are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest;” and there were times when these last words so fascinated me, and I felt so weary of myself and such a longing for the peace which he could give me, that I went near to calling aloud unto him “Verily I am weary and heavy-laden, I will come unto thee, O Lord.” But the cares and pleasures of this world choked the good seed so that I could hear no more of the sayings of the Lord, and strove to forget such as I had heard. Hence it came to pass that my next letter to Artemidorus (though I had not yet received his message of warning) breathed not a syllable of any desire to become a Christian.
“ONESIMUS TO ARTEMIDORUS, HEALTH.
“O for an hour of Antioch or Colossæ! Never before had I understood how much of the joy of life we owe to the Muses till I came hither, where the Muses are despised. Here are no temples (save one), no processions, no dances, no games, no chariot races, no plays, no pictures, no statues, no libraries; the very air breathes dullness and superstition. If one brings a statue into these streets it is sacrilege; and they shrink from our poems and songs, our literature and our very language, as if it were a sin to be a Greek. And then the hideousness of their temple, which during their festivals so reeks with the multitude of slaughtered sheep and oxen that it resembles a kind of shambles! Never may I again see a whole nation offering sacrifice as it were wholesale! Even now I cannot forget the shrieks of so many ten thousands of victims, and the reek of the burning fat and all the ill savor of so many worshippers thus pressed together—and all this in a barbaric building, with not so much as a single statue to adorn it, nothing but eternal grape-clusters and stars and the like, all bedaubed with gold in true eastern fashion for ostentation’s sake. Ostentation everywhere, beauty nowhere! O for an hour of Colossæ or the pettiest Greek town in Asia, to relieve the staleness of this Jerusalem, surely the weariest and dullest of dull places!
“But I am like to forget the occasion which caused me to take up my pen, and which indeed (together with the suddenness of the journey hither) has for the time driven out of my mind all thought of the Christians. You must know then that, ten days ago, I beheld for the first time a battle, if battle it is to be called, where one side kills and the other is killed. It was after this manner. Coming to Jerusalem and having now accomplished about half of the journey between the city and Jericho, we, being mounted on dromedaries, overtook a great multitude of mixed folk journeying on foot, four or five thousand or more, as I should judge, some with swords, some with spears, some with bows, but not a few unarmed or bearing nothing save pruning-hooks and mattocks. Making our way with much ado through this motley multitude, (who would not have suffered us to pass, being Greeks, had there not been with us certain priests that were going up to the Temple,) we found that this rabble called itself an army, and that they were following a certain prophet, whom I saw, but I did not rightly understand his name; only thus much, that he was from Egypt, and that, being able to work all wonders, he had promised them that he would take Jerusalem and destroy the Romans in one day. And what think you was the prophet’s plan? There is a mountain called Olivet on the eastern side of Jerusalem. Hither the multitude was to journey, and here to take their stand. Thereupon the prophet was to lift up his hands in prayer; the walls of Jerusalem (even as the walls of Jericho in old days were cast down by the sound of trumpets) were in like manner to fall to the ground; and the faithful would rush in and slay every Roman with the sword. Heard you ever the like, for simple credulity and self-conceit? And then to listen to the babbling and boasting of these illiterate peasants! What great things they would do when they had smitten the Romans! How the prophecies should be fulfilled, and how they would rule over the Gentiles and break them in pieces like a potter’s vessel! How they would cut the throats of every Samaritan, and destroy the temple in Gerizim, and be avenged on Edom! Never, never before have I felt better content that the whole world is under the firm and just dominion of Rome!
“However you shall hear how the Romans despatched this business without much delay. Having gladly left these dangerous companions, and hastening up the steep road, we had not gone twenty furlongs before we met a squadron of Roman horse, blocking the road; but after questioning us, they suffered us to pass up to a village named Bethany. We soon came to a winding place in the road, which, being very high up, commanded a view of all the road below. Thence looking down we saw the helmets of the horsemen in an ambush, in a valley on the northern side of the road, and we could hear the multitude (though we saw them not by reason of the winding of the road) with psalms and shouts, and without any order or discipline, coming up the hill; and soon their vanguard (if vanguard it could be called where all was unguarded) would have passed by the mouth of the valley so that the Romans could cleave the rabble in two parts whenever it pleased them. Soon afterwards the trumpet rang echoing through the hills, and anon we saw the helmets and swords all flash together, and then such a crying for mercy, such a shrieking and clamor, as made me stop my ears for horror; and we hastily turned away towards Bethany. But we were still some furlongs distant from the village when the Romans overtook us, their arms and armor all dripping with blood, goading before them many hundreds of captives fettered together; and on the morrow, near the western gate as I went out of the city I counted no less than a hundred crosses.
“Most gladly do I again open this letter to add that we purpose with all speed to leave Jerusalem, and to come to Ephesus. Hereto Philemon is moved, not so much by the unquiet times here, as by a letter announcing that Apphia is sick; for whose sake I am truly sorry, and I beg you to join with the worthy Evagoras (whose zeal is greater methinks than his knowledge in medicine) that she may be restored to health; but for Philemon’s sake I rejoice, for assuredly a month’s sojourning in Jerusalem would no less draw him to the Jews than it would drive me from them.”
On the morrow we left Jerusalem and came to Cæsarea Stratonis; and then to Sidon and so home, as I shall recount hereafter. And all this while I remained still an unbeliever, outside the fold of the faithful.
But even so must it needs have been, O Lord. For to thee none draweth nigh through weighing of probabilities, no, nor through belief in thy mighty works, nor through trust in traditions concerning thy birth and rising again; but it is through Love of thee and Trust in thee alone that thou art embraced; for thou art Love, and by thee alone is the heart of man made capable of thee. Wherefore it pleased thee in thy mercy that I, in seeking to find thee should not find thee, to the intent that afterwards in not finding thee I should find thee. For now, I reasoned, I examined, I sought; yet I found not. But afterwards, I reasoned not, I examined not, I sought not; yea, I fled from thee that I might wander in the wilderness of sin; but even there didst thou meet me and through thy love mine eyes were opened; and I could not choose but know thee to be my true Shepherd, and when thou didst call me by name I could not choose but come.
END OF THE THIRD BOOK
THE FOURTH BOOK
§ 1. HOW WE CAME TO ATHENS
Loosing from Sidon we were driven by violent winds to the Chelidonian isles. There the Pamphylian sea divides itself from the Lycian; and the floods, meeting several ways and breaking against the promontory, swell into terrible billows rising higher than the cliffs. But when we were now in great peril of our lives, the Lord had mercy on us. For he sent a star which, seeming to settle upon our top-sail, by a left-hand course directed our vessel again into the sea, just when it was ready to be dashed upon the cliffs. I had often before heard speak of these marvellous stars, but never yet had seen them; and although Artemidorus had taught me that they were no gods but mere effects of causes according to nature, yet, in such extreme peril, being filled with thankfulness for our deliverance, I could not but join myself with the mariners and the rest of the crew in doing worship to the twin-gods. That very night—having often before of late had visions of a man seated on the clouds and encompassed with brightness—there came to me another such vision, but of more than usual splendor, and he beckoned to me and said that the stars had been sent by him, and not by these twin-gods whom I had ignorantly worshipped. But I shook off the dream as being a mere phantasm of the night, not knowing that it was from the Lord.
Escaping from the peril of the seas, we sailed through the Arches, and thence were driven onwards, not however to Ephesus, whither we desired to have come, but to Piræus. There, owing to the sickness of Philemon, we spent some days, during which I lodged in the house of Molon the rhetorician; and when at last my master returned to Colossæ, I persuaded him to suffer me to remain at Athens for a while, that I might study rhetoric and attain the true Attic pronunciation and idiom, so that I might be the more useful to him as amanuensis and secretary. But I had other reasons for desiring to remain. For besides the delights and novelties of the city—which were all new to me because I had not been able to persuade Philemon to spend more than two days there when we last came to Greece to visit Lebadea—I had already conceived a love for Eucharis, Molon’s only daughter. But, of this, more hereafter. Meantime it chanced that Philemon, returning to Colossæ, much infected with the superstition of the Christians (as Artemidorus termed it), had caused the latter to suppose that I also was in the same condition of mind; which (to my shame be it spoken) was far from the truth. However, Artemidorus taking it to be true, and being sorely incensed against me, wrote the following letter which I will here set down, being the last I received from him on this matter: