Produced by Michael Wooff
The Procurator of Judea
Anatole France (1844-1924)
Aelius Lamia, born in Italy of illustrious parents, had not yetput off the patrician's white toga with the purple stripe whenhe went to Athens to study philosophy there in the schools.He afterwards set up in Rome and, in his house in the Exquiliae,led the life of a voluptuary amid debauched youths. But, afterhaving been accused of being in an illegitimate relationshipwith Lepida, the wife of a consul, Sulpicius Quirinus, and whenhe was found guilty, he was exiled by Tiberius Caesar. He wasthen in his twenty-fourth year. For the eighteen years hisexile lasted he wandered over Syria, Palestine, Cappadocia andArmenia, staying for long periods in Antioch, Caesarea Maritimaand Jerusalem. When, after the death of Tiberius, Caius Juliuswas raised to the imperial purple, Lamia was allowed to returnto Rome. He even recovered a part of his wealth. His woes hadmade him wise.
He avoided all dealings with free-born women, did not intriguefor public office, kept away from marks of favour and livedhidden in his house in the Exquiliae. Putting into writingthe noteworthy things he had seen in his far-off travels, hewas creating, he said, from his past sufferings, a diversionfor the hours he had these days at his disposal. In the midstof these serene labours, and while he was assiduously thinkingon the works of Epicurus, he saw, with a modicum of surpriseand a certain amount of sadness, old age creeping up on him.In his sixty-second year, tormented by a quite inconvenient cold,he went to take the waters at Baiae. This shore, formerly dearto common kingfishers, was at that time frequented by wealthy,pleasure-seeking Romans. For a week Lamia had been living aloneand friendless in their brilliant company, when, one day, afterdinner, feeling fit, he took it into his head to climb the hillswhich, covered with vines like devotees of Bacchus, overlook thewaves of the sea.
Having reached the summit, he sat down at the side of a pathbeneath a terebinth, and allowed his gaze to wander over thebeautiful landscape. On his left the Phlegraean Fields, pallidand bare, stretched out as far as the ruins of Cumae. On hisright Cape Misenus dug its sharp spur into the Tyrrhenian Sea.At his feet, to the west, the rich town of Baiae, hugging theshoreline's graceful curve, displayed its gardens, its villaspeopled with statues, its porticos and its marble terraces onthe edge of the blue sea in which dolphins played. In frontof him, on the other side of the gulf, on the Campanian coast,gilded by the sun that was already low in the sky, shone thetemples, crowned by the bay trees of the Pausilipon, and, onthe far horizon, Vesuvius spluttered and laughed.
Lamia pulled from a fold of his toga a roll containing theTreatise on Nature of Epicurus, stretched out on the groundand started to read. But the cries of a slave warned him toget up to make way for a litter that was coming up the narrowpath through the vines. As the open litter came nearer,Lamia saw, stretched out on the cushions, a hugely fat oldman who, head in hand, looked out with an eye both sombreand proud. His aquiline nose came down to his lips, madetight by a prominent chin and powerful jaws.
Right away, Lamia was sure he knew that face. He hesitatedthough for a moment in putting a name to it. Then he all ofa sudden rushed to the litter in a transport of surprise andjoy:
"Pontius Pilate!" he exclaimed. "Gods be praised. It hasbeen given to me to see you again!"
The old man motioned to the slaves to stop and focused hisatt