Chapter 10

‘So they do,’ declared Mencius, ‘and very properly, too. They lost their rating as conquerors, but they gained something much more valuable—the world’s respect. Everywhere they went, they carried their culture. They became known as the wise ones of the earth! Moreover—their wide acquaintance with the other nations opened their own eyes to the fact of their superiority as intellectuals. It made the Greeks conscious of their cultural supremacy and more eager than ever to develop their talents.’ After a pause, he added, ‘Militarily, of course, Alexander’s whirlwind campaigns accomplished little. His was a very brief dynasty.’

‘It usually takes much longer, then, for the actors to finish the old play,’ surmised Voldi, anxious to hear more of this unfamiliar talk.

‘Anywhere from three or four generations to half a dozen centuries,’ said Mencius. ‘Consider the case of these Philistines: they had been smashed before; eleven centuries ago. The end of that play was quite dramatic…You’ve heard of Samson, I suppose.’

Voldi shook his head and grinned; and Mencius, having found his polite supposition incorrect, proceeded to tell the story. The Philistines had had everything their own way for a handful of centuries. Then a powerful leader had developed in neighbouring Jewry.

‘It takes only one strong man, you know, to do the trick,’ continued Mencius. ‘If he is bold enough, successful enough, his people will follow him and fight for him. But he had better stay in the saddle! That’s the only trouble with a one-man show. The great man becomes so infatuated with his personal conquests that he neglects to build up a few successors to take over in the event of something happening to him…The Philistines were quite unprepared to compete with a man of Samson’s stature. They had grown rich, soft, over-confident—and, of course, corrupt. Samson bore down on them with the courage and voice of a mad bull!…There are plenty of legends about him; most of them lies, no doubt, but immensely entertaining. One old story has it that he single-handedly slaughtered three hundred Philistine braves with the jaw-bone of an ass.’

‘An odd weapon,’ commented Voldi.

‘Yes—but not altogether inappropriate. The big fellow was a noisy braggart and buffoon, without a trace of dignity or common sense. It delighted him to make monkeys of the haughty Philistines; he loved to play pranks on them. His roars of laughter could be heard for a mile.’

‘What sort of pranks?’ Voldi wanted to know.

‘Oh—theatrical displays of his physical strength. One night he lifted the city gates of Gaza off their hinges and carried them away on his shoulders…Then, when he had all Philistia beaten and shamed, he made the customary mistake of successful warriors, rested on his oars, enjoyed his fame, and strutted about the city with his head held high. Presently he became enamoured of a beautiful and designing woman.’

‘Of Philistia?’ inquired Voldi.

Mencius nodded—and scowled.