Chapter 22

‘Very well! Very well!’ barked the Prefect impatiently. ‘Have it your own way! For the sake of argument, let us say that these wonder-tales were true. Let’s concede that the Galilean gave sight to the blind, ears to the deaf, new legs to the cripples. Let’s say he cured leprosy and raised the dead! Where does that leave you? Why didn’t he try to help himself today? Either he had superhuman power or he hadn’t! If he had it, he could have exercised it! Instead of standing there, helpless, roped like an animal on the way to slaughter, he could have pointed a finger at Pilate and stiffened him into a cataleptic fit!’

‘There you are!’ Mencius brought his fist down hard on the table. ‘That’s where the mystery mounts! Let us say that the man was no ordinary creature; that he did possess superhuman power; that he had a commission to improve the world’s way of living. Let us conjecture that he performed these miracles of healing solely to attract an audience, and give the public a valid reason for believing that he spoke with divine authority! All he asked of them was that they treat one another with kindness. That, he said, would cure the world of its afflictions.’ Mencius paused.

‘Well—go on!’ prodded Sergius. ‘You haven’t answered my question yet.’

‘We’re coming to that—now. Let us say that it finally dawned on this Torchbearer that the world wasn’t ready to receive the light. Men were too selfish and greedy to make the experiment. Everybody wanted peace and prosperity; nobody would do anything to earn it. Next-door neighbours quarrelled and fought, blood-relatives hated one another, the religious sects were contemptuous of other beliefs.

‘He looked about him and found that every institution in the world was at enmity to his proposed kingdom of truth, and good-will, and peace. No Government wants peace, Sergius! Which one of us would have a job if good-will became popular? Can you imagine the Empire taking steps toward peace?…Why, a wave of decency among men would wreck the Empire!…What would become of the temples, the shrines, and the Gods themselves if humanity suddenly decided to be honest and merciful? No man would need to howl for somebody to save his soul from hell if he lived a life of rectitude!…But—it was a lost cause!…And so,’ concluded Mencius, ‘the messenger gave it up as a hopeless job!’

‘That’s certainly a fantastic theory,’ commented Sergius.

‘It’s better than none,’ said Mencius.

‘Let me ask you’—the Prefect regarded the Proconsul with a sly grin—’would you yourself have adopted this soft and silly programme of patting everybody on the back—slaves and all—and being kind?’

‘Of course not!’ declared Mencius. ‘I couldn’t afford it. I’d soon be on the street in rags, begging my bread.’

‘Then—the Galilean’s theory is no good?’

‘Apparently not. And that’s why he gave it up. You wondered why he didn’t stand up for himself, this morning. My solution is that he saw it was no use. The world wasn’t ready for it.’

‘Do you think it ever will be, Mencius?’ The Prefect was pushing back his chair.