Kingsley_Hypatia.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
CHAPTER I
THE LAURA
IN the four hundred and thirteenth year of the
Christian Era, some three hundred miles above
Alexandria, the young monk Philammon was sitting
on the edge of a low range of inland cliffs, crested
with drifting sand. Behind him the desert sand-
waste stretched, lifeless, interminable, reflecting its
lurid glare on the horizon of the cloudless vault of
blue. At his feet the sand dripped and trickled,
in yellow rivulets, from crack to crack and ledge
to ledge, or whirled past him in tiny jets of yellow
smoke, before the fitful summer airs. Here and
there, upon the face of the cliffs which walled in the
opposite side of the narrow glen below, were cav-
ernous tombs, huge old quarries, with obelisks and
half-cut pillars, standing as the workmen had left
them centuries before ; the sand was slipping down
and piling up around them, their heads were frosted
with the arid snow ; everywhere was silence, deso-
lation the grave of a dead nation, in a dying
land. And there he sat musing above it all, full of
B Vol. VI
2 Hypatia
life and youth and health and beauty a young
Apollo of the desert. His only clothing was a
ragged sheepskin, bound with a leathern girdle.
His long black locks, unshorn from childhood,
waved and glistened in the sun ; a rich dark
down on cheek and chin showed the spring of
healthful manhood; his hard hands and sinewy
sunburnt limbs told of labor and endurance; his
flashing eyes and beetling brow, of daring, fancy,
passion, thought, which had no sphere of action
in such a place. What did his glorious young
humanity alone among the tombs ?
So perhaps he, too, thought, as he passed his
hand across his brow, as if to sweep away some
gathering dream, and sighing, rose and wandered
along the cliffs, peering downward at every point
and cranny, in search of fuel for the monastery
from whence he came.
Simple as was the material which he sought, con-
sisting chiefly of the low arid desert shrubs with
now and then a fragment of wood from some
deserted quarry or ruin, it was becoming scarcer
and scarcer round Abbot Pambo's Laura at Seeds ;
and long before Philammon had collected his daily
quantity, he had strayed farther from his home than
he had ever been before.
Suddenly, at a turn of the glen, he came upon a
sight new to him ... a temple carved in the sand-
stone cliff; and in front a smooth platform, strewn
with beams and mouldering tools, and here and
there a skull bleaching among the sand, perhaps
of some workman slaughtered at his labor in one
of the thousand wars of old. The abbot, his spirit-
ual father indeed, the only father whom he knew,
for his earliest recollections were of the Laura and
The Laura 3
the old man's cell had strictly forbidden him to
enter, even to approach any of those relics of
ancient idolatry: but a broad terrace-road led
down to the platform from the table-land above ;
the plentiful supply of fuel was too tempting to be
passed by. . . . He would go down, gather a few
sticks, and then return, to tell the abbot of the
treasure which he had found, and consult him as to
the propriety of revisiting it.
So down he went, hardly daring to raise his eyes
to the alluring iniquities of the painted imagery
which, gaudy in crimson and blue, still blazed out
upon the desolate solitude, uninjured by that rain-
less air. But he was young, and youth is curious ;
and the devil, at least in the fifth century, busy with
young brains. Now Philammon believed most
utterly in the devil, and night and day devoutly
prayed to be delivered from him; so he crossed
himself, and ejaculated, honestly enough, " Lord,
turn away mine eyes, lest they behold vanity ! " . . .
and looked nevertheless. . . .
And who could have helped looking at those
four colossal kings, who sat there grim and motion-
less, their huge hands laid upon their knees in
everlasting self-assured repose, seeming to bear up
the mountain on their stately heads? A sense of
awe, weakness, all but fear, came over him. He
dare not stoop to take up the wood at his feet, their
great stern eyes watched him so steadily.
Round their knees and round their thrones were
mystic characters engraven, symbol after symbol,
line below line the ancient wisdom of the Egyp-
tians, wherein Moses the man of God was learned
of old why should not he know it too ? What
awful secrets might not be hidden there about the
4 Hypatia
great world, past, present, and future, of which he
knew only so small a speck ? Those kings who sat
there, they had known it all ; their sharp lips seem
parting, ready to speak to him. . . . Oh that they
would speak for once ! . . . and yet that grim
sneering smile, that seemed to look down on him
from the heights of their power and wisdom, with
calm contempt . . . him, the poor youth, picking
up the leaving and rags of their past majesty. . . .
He dared look at them no more.
So he looked past them into the temple halls ;
into a lustrous abyss of cool green shade, deepen-
ing on and inward, pillar after pillar, vista after
vista, into deepest night. And dimly through the
gloom he could descry, on every wall and column,
gorgeous arabesques, long lines of pictured story ;
triumphs and labors ; rows of captives in foreign
and fantastic dresses, leading strange animals, bear-
ing the tributes of unknown lands ; rows of ladies
at feasts, their heads crowned with garlands, the
fragrant lotus-flower in every hand, while slaves
brought wine and perfumes, and children sat upon
their knees, and husbands by their side ; and danc-
ing girls, in transparent robes and golden girdles,
tossed their tawny limbs wildly among the
throng. . . . What was the meaning of it all?
Why had it all been ? Why had it gone on thus,
the great world, century after century, millennium
after millennium, eating and drinking, and marry-
ing and giving in marriage, and knowing nothing
better . . . how could they know anything better?
Their forefathers had lost the light ages and ages
before they were born. . . . And Christ had not
come for ages and ages after they were dead. . . .
How could they know? . . . And yet they were
The Laura 5
all in hell . . . every one of them. Every one of
these ladies who sat there, with her bushy locks,
and garlands, and jewelled collars, and lotus-flowers,
and gauzy dress, displaying all her slender limbs -*
who, perhaps, when she was alive, smiled so
sweetly, and went so gaily, and had children, and
friends, and never once thought of what was going
to happen to her what must happen to her. . . .
She was in hell. . . . Burning for ever, and ever, and
ever, there below his feet. He stared down on the
rocky floors. If he could but see through them . . .
and the eye of faith could see through them ... he
should behold her writhing and twisting among the
flickering flame, scorched, glowing ... in everlast-
ing agony, such as the thought of enduring for a mo-
ment made him shudder. He had burnt his hands
once, when a palm-leaf hut caught fire. . . . He
recollected what that was like. . . . She was en-
during ten thousand times more than that for
ever. . . . He should hear her shrieking in vain for
a drop of water to cool her tongue. . . . He had
never heard a human being shriek but once ... a
boy bathing on the opposite Nile bank, whom a
crocodile had dragged down . . . and that scream,
faint and distantas it came across the mighty tide, had
rung intolerable in his ears for days . . . and to think
of all which echoed through those vaults of fire for
ever ! Was the thought bearable ! was it possi-
ble ! Millions upon millions burning for ever for
Adam's fall. . . . Could God be just in that? . . .
It was the temptation of a fiend ! He had entered
the unhallowed precincts, where devils still lingered
about their ancient shrines; he had let his eyes
devour the abominations of the heathen, and given
place to the devil. He would flee home to confess
6 Hypatia
it all to his father. He would punish him as he
deserved, pray for him, forgive him. And yet
could he tell him all? Could he, dare he confess
to him the whole truth the insatiable craving to
know the mysteries of learning to see the great
roaring world of men, which had been growing up
in him slowly, month after month, till now it had
assumed this fearful shape? He could stay no
longer in the desert. This world which sent all
souls to hell was it as bad as monks declared it
was ? It must be, else how could such be the fruit
of it ? But it was too awful a thought to be taken
on trust. No ; he must go and see.
Filled with such fearful questionings, half-inar-
ticulate and vague, like the thoughts of a child,
the untutored youth went wandering on, till he
reached the edge of the cliff below which lay his
home.
It lay pleasantly enough, that lonely Laura, or
lane of rude Cyclopean cells, under the perpetual
shadow of the southern wall of crags, amid its
grove of ancient date-trees. A branching cavern
in the cliff supplied the purposes of a chapel, a
store-house, and a hospital; while on the sunny
slope across the glen lay the common gardens of
the brotherhood, green with millet, maize, and
beans, among which a tiny streamlet, husbanded
and guided with the most thrifty care, wandered
down from the cliff foot, and spread perpetual ver-
dure over the little plot which voluntary and
fraternal labor had painfully redeemed from the
inroads of the all-devouring sand. For that gar-
den, like everything else in the Laura, except each
brother's seven feet of stone sleeping-hut, was the
common property, and therefore the common care
The Laura 7
and joy of all. For the common good, as well as
for his own, each man had toiled up the glen with
his palm-leaf basket of black mud from the river
Nile, over whose broad sheet of silver the glen's
mouth yawned abrupt. For the common good,
each man had swept the ledges clear of sand, and
sown in the scanty artificial soil, the harvest of
which all were to share alike. To buy clothes,
books, and chapel-furniture for the common neces-
sities, education, and worship, each man sat, day
after day, week after week, his mind full of high
and heavenly thoughts, weaving the leaves of their
little palm-copse into baskets, which an aged monk
exchanged for goods with the more prosper-
ous and frequented monasteries of the opposite
bank. Thither Philammon rowed the old man
over, week by week, in a light canoe of papyrus,
and fished, as he sat waiting for him, for the com-
mon meal. A simple, happy, gentle life was that
of the Laura, all portioned out by rules and methods,
which were held hardly less sacred than those of
the Scriptures, on which they were supposed (and
not so wrongly either) to have been framed. Each
man had food and raiment, shelter on earth, friends
and counsellors, living trust in the continual care
of Almighty God ; and, blazing before his eyes, by
day and night, the hope of everlasting glory be-
yond all poets' dreams. . . . And what more would
man have had in those days? Thither they had
fled out of cities, compared with which Paris is
earnest and Gomorrah chaste, out of a rotten,
infernal, dying world of tyrants and slaves, hypo-
crites and wantons, to ponder undisturbed on
duty and on judgment, on death and eternity,
heaven and hell ; to find a common creed, a com-
8 Hypatia
mon interest, a common hope, common duties,
pleasures, and sorrows. . . . True, they had many
of them fled from the post where God had placed
them, when they fled from man into the Thebaid
waste. . . . What sort of post and what sort of
an age they were, from which those old monks
fled, we shall see, perhaps, before this tale is told
out.
" Thou art late, son," said the abbot, steadfastly
working away at his palm-basket, as Philammon
approached.
" Fuel is scarce, and I was forced to go far."
" A monk should not answer till he is questioned.
I did not ask the reason. Where didst thou find
that wood?"
" Before the temple, far up the glen."
" The temple ! What didst thou see there ? "
No answer. Pambo looked up with his keen
black eye.
" Thou hast entered it, and lusted after its abomi-
nations."
"I I did not enter ; but I looked "
" And what didst thou see ? Women ? "
Philammon was silent.
" Have I not bidden you never to look on the
face of women? Are they not the first fruits of
the devil, the authors of all evil, the subtlest of all
Satan's snares? Are they not accursed for ever,
for the deceit of their first mother, by whom sin
entered into the world? A woman first opened
the gates of hell ; and, until this day, they are the
portresses thereof. Unhappy boy! What hast
thou done?"
" They were but painted on the walls."
" Ah ! " said the abbot, as if suddenly relieved
The Laura 9
from a heavy burden. "But how knewest thou
them to be women, when thou hast never yet, un-
less thou liest which I believe not of thee seen
the face of a daughter of Eve ? "
" Perhaps perhaps," said Philammon, as if
suddenly relieved by a new suggestion " perhaps
they were only devils. They must have been, I
think, for they were so very beautiful."
" Ah ! how knowest thou that devils are beauti-
ful?"
" I was launching the boat, a week ago, with
Father Aufugus ; and on the bank, . . . not very
near, . . . there were two creatures . . . with long
hair, and striped all over the lower half of their
bodies with black, and red, and yellow . . . and
they were gathering flowers on the shore. Father
Aufugus turned away ; but I ... I could not help
thinking them the most beautiful things that I had
ever seen ... so I asked him why he turned
away ; and he said that those were the same sort
of devils which tempted the blessed St. Anthony.
Then I recollected having heard it read aloud, how
Satan tempted Anthony in the shape of a beautiful
woman. . . . And so ... and so ... those figures
on the wall were very like . . . and I thought they
might be . . ."
And the poor boy, who considered that he was
making confession of a deadly and shameful sin,
blushed scarlet, and stammered, and at last
stopped.
"And thou thoughtest them beautiful? Oh
utter corruption of the flesh ! oh subtilty of
Satan ! The Lord forgive thee, as I do, my poor
child : henceforth thou goest not beyond the garden
walls."
I o Hypatia
" Not beyond the walls ? Impossible ! I cannot !
If thou wert not my father, I would say, I will not !
I must have liberty ! I must see for myself
I must judge for myself, what this world is of which
you all talk so bitterly. I long for no pomps and
vanities. I will promise you this moment, if you
will, never to re-enter a heathen temple to hide
my face in the dust whenever I approach a woman.
But I must I must see the world ; I must see the
great mother-church in Alexandria, and the patri-
arch, and his clergy. If they can serve God in the
city, why not I ? I could do more for God there
than here. . . . Not that I despise this work not
that I am ungrateful to you oh, never, never
that ! but I pant for the battle. Let me go ! I
am not discontented with you, but with myself.
I know that obedience is noble; but danger is
nobler still. If you have seen the world, why
should not I ? If you have fled from it because
you found it too evil to live in, why should not I,
and return to you here of my own will, never to
kave you? . . . And yet Cyril and his clergy have
not fled from it . . ."
Desperately and breathlessly did Philammon
drive this speech out of his inmost heart; and
then waited, expecting the good abbot to strike
him on the spot. If he had, the young man would
have submitted patiently ; so would any man, how-
ever venerable, in that monastery. Why not?
Duly, after long companionship, thought, and
prayer, they had elected Pambo for their abbot
abba father the wisest, eldest-hearted and
headed of them if he was that, it was time that
he should be obeyed. And obeyed he was, with a
loyal, reasonable love, and yet with an implicit,
The Laura 1 1
soldier-like obedience, which many a king and
conqueror might envy. Were they cowards and
slaves? The Roman legionaries should be good
judges on that point. They used to say that no
armed barbarian, Goth or Vandal, Moor or Span-
iard, was so terrible as the unarmed monk of the
Thebaid.
Twice the old man lifted his staff to strike;
twice he laid it down again ; and then, slowly ris-
ing, left Philammon kneeling there, and moved
away deliberately, and with eyes fixed on the
ground, to the house of the brother Aufugus.
Every one in the Laura honored Aufugus.
There was a mystery about him which heightened
the charm of his surpassing sanctity, his childlike
sweetness and humilty. It was whispered when
the monks seldom and cautiously did whisper
together in their lonely walks that he had been
once a great man ; that he had come from a great
city perhaps from Rome itself. And the simple
monks were proud to think that they had among
them a man who had seen Rome. At least,
Abbot Pambo respected him. He was never
beaten; never even reproved perhaps he never
required it ; but still it was the meed of all ; and
was not the abbot a little partial? Yet, certainly,
when Theophilus sent up a messenger from Alex-
andria, rousing every Laura with the news of the
sack of Rome by Alaric, did not Pambo take him
first to the cell of Aufugus, and sit with him there
three whole hours in secret consultation, before he
told the awful story to the rest of the brotherhood ?
And did not Aufugus himself give letters to the
messenger, written with his own hand, containing,
as was said, deep secrets of worldly policy, known
1 2 Hypatia
only to himself? So, when the little lane of holy
men, each peering stealthily over his plaiting-work
from the doorway of his sandstone cell, saw the
abbot, after his unwonted passion, leave the cul-
prit kneeling, and take his way toward the sage's
dwelling, they judged that something strange and
delicate had befallen the common weal, and each
wished, without envy, that he were as wise as the
man whose counsel was to solve the difficulty.
For an hour or more the abbot remained there,
talking earnestly and low; and then a solemn
sound as of the two old men praying with sobs and
tears; and every brother bowed his head, and
'whispered a hope that He whom they served might
guide them for the good of the Laura, and of His
Church, and of the great heathen world beyond ;
and still Philammon knelt motionless, awaiting his
sentence; his heart filled who can tell how?
" The heart knoweth its own bitterness, and a
stranger intermeddleth not with its joy." So
thought he as he knelt ; and so think I, too, know-
ing that in the pettiest character there are un-
fathomable depths, which the poet, all-seeing
though he may pretend to be, can never analyze,
but must only dimly guess at, and still more dimly
sketch them by the actions which they beget.
At last Pambo returned, deliberate, still, and
slow, as he had gone, and seating himself within
his cell, spoke:
"And the youngest said, Father, give me the
portion of goods that falleth to my share. . . . And
he took his journey into a far country, and there
wasted his substance with riotous living. Thou
shalt go, my son. But first come after me, and
speak with Aufugus."
The Laura 13
Philammon, like every one else, loved Aufugus ;
and when the abbot retired and left the two alone
together, he felt no dread or shame about unbur-
dening his whole heart to him. Long and pas-
sionately he spoke, in answer to the gentle
questions of the old man, who, without the rigidity
or pedantic solemnity of the monk, interrupted the
youth, and let himself be interrupted in return,
gracefully, genially, almost playfully. And yet
there was a melancholy about his tone as he
answered to the youth's appeal:
" Tertullian, Origen, Clement, Cyprian all
these moved in the world; all these and many
more beside, whose names we honor, whose prayers
we invoke, were learned in the wisdom of the
heathen, and fought and labored, unspotted, in the
world ; and why not I ? Cyril the Patriarch him-
self, was he not called from the caves of Nitria to
sit on the throne of Alexandria?"
Slowly the old man lifted his hand, and putting
back the thick locks of the kneeling youth, gazed,
with soft pitying eyes, long and earnestly into his
face.
"And thou wouldst see the world, poor fool?
And thou wouldst see the world ? "
" I would convert the world ! "
" Thou must know it first. And shall I tell thee
what that world is like, which seems to thee so
easy to convert? Here I sit, the poor unknown
old monk, until I die, fasting and praying, if per-
haps God will have mercy on my soul : but little
thou knowest how I have seen it. Little thou
knowest, or thou wouldst be well content to rest
here till the end. I was Arsenius. . . . Ah ! vain
old man that I am ! Thou hast never heard that
1 4 Hypatia
name, at which once queens would whisper and
grow pale. Vanitas vanitatum! omnia vanitasl
And yet he, at whose frown half the world trem-
bles, has trembled himself at mine. I was the
tutor of Arcadius."
"The Emperor of Byzantium ?"
" Even so, my son, even so. There I saw the
world which thou wouldst see. And what saw I?
Even what thou wilt see. Eunuchs the tyrants of
their own sovereigns. Bishops kissing the feet of
parricides and harlots. Saints tearing saints in
pieces for a word, while sinners cheer them on to
the unnatural fight. Liars thanked for lying,
hypocrites taking pride in their hypocrisy. The
many sold and butchered for the malice, the
caprice, the vanity of the few. The plunderers of
the poor plundered in their turn by worse de-
vourers than themselves. Every attempt at reform
the parent of worse scandals ; every mercy beget-
ting fresh cruelties; every persecutor silenced,
only to enable others to persecute him in their
turn : every devil who is exorcised, returning with
seven others worse than himself; falsehood and
selfishness, spite and lust, confusion seven times
confounded, Satan casting out Satan everywhere
from the emperor who wantons on his throne, to
the slave who blasphemes beneatk his fetters."
" If Satan cast out Satan, his kingdom shall not
stand."
" In the world to come. But in this world it
shall stand and conquer, even worse and worse,
until the end. These are the last days spoken of
by the prophets, the beginning of woes such as
never have been on the earth before 'On earth
distress of nations with perplexity, men's hearts
The Laura 15
failing them for fear, and for the dread of those
things which are coming on .the earth.' I have
seen it long. Year after year I have watched them
coming nearer and ever nearer in their course, like
the whirling sand-storms of the desert, which sweep
past the caravan, and past again, and yet over-
whelm it after all that black flood of the northern
barbarians. I foretold it; I prayed against it;
but, like Cassandra's of old, my prophecy and my
prayers were alike unheard. My pupil spurned my
warnings. The lusts of youth, the intrigues of
courtiers, were stronger than the warning voice of
God ; then I ceased to hope ; I ceased to pray for
the glorious city, for I knew that her sentence was
gone forth; I saw her in the spirit, even as St.
John saw her in the Revelations; her, and her
sins, and her ruin. And I fled secretly at night,
and buried myself here in the desert, to await the
end of the world. Night and day I pray the Lord
to accomplish His elect, and to hasten His king-
dom. Morning by morning I look up trembling,
and yet in hope, for the sign of the Son of man in
heaven, when the sun shall be turned into dark-
ness, and the moon into blood, and the stars shall
fall from heaven, and the skies pass away like a
scroll, and the fountains of the nether fire burst up
around our feet, and the end of all shall come. And
thou wouldst go into the world from which I fled ? "
"If the harvest be at hand, the Lord needs
laborers. If the times be awful, I should be doing
awful things in them. Send me, and let that day
find me, where I long to be, in the forefront of the
battle of the Lord."
" The Lord's voice be obeyed ! Thou shalt go.
Here are letters to Cyril the patriarch. He will
1 6 Hypatia
love thee for my sake : and for thine own sake, too,
I trust. Thou goest of our free will as well as
thine own. The abbot and I have watched thee
long, knowing that the Lord had need of such as
thee elsewhere. We did but prove thee, to see by
thy readiness to obey, whether thou wert fit to
rule. Go, and God be with thee. Covet no man's
gold or silver. Neither eat flesh nor drink wine,
but live as thou hast lived a Nazarite of the
Lord. Fear not the face of man ; but look not on
the face of woman. In an evil hour came they
into the world, the mothers of all mischiefs which
I have seen under the sun. Come ; the abbot waits
for us at the gate."
With tears of surprise, joy, sorrow, almost of
dread, Philammon hung back.
" Nay come. Why shouldst thou break thy
brethren's hearts and ours by many leave-takings !
Bring from the store-house a week's provision of
dried dates and millet. The papyrus boat lies at
the ferry; thou shalt descend in it. The Lord
will replace it for us when we need it. Speak
with no man on the river except the monks of
God. When thou hast gone five days' journey
downward, ask for the mouth of the canal of
Alexandria. Once in the city, any monk will
guide thee to the archbishop. Send us news of
thy welfare by some holy mouth. Come."
Silently they paced together down the glen to
the lonely beach of the great stream. Pambo was
there already, his white hair glittering in the rising
moon, as with slow and feeble arms he launched
the light canoe. Philammon flung himself at the
old men's feet, and besought, with many tears, their
forgiveness and their blessing.
The Laura 17
"We have nothing to forgive. Follow thou
thine inward call. If it be of the flesh, it will
avenge itself; if it be of the Spirit, who are we
that we should fight against God? Farewell."
A few minutes more, and the youth and his canoe
were lessening down the rapid stream in the golden
summer twilight. Again a minute, and the swift
southern night had fallen, and all was dark but
the cold glare of the moon on the river, and on
the rock-faces, and on the two old men, as they
knelt upon the beach, and with their heads upon
each other's shoulders, like two children, sobbed
and prayed together for the lost darling of their
age.
CHAPTER II
THE DYING WORLD
IN the upper story of a house in the Museum
Street of Alexandria, built and fitted up on
the old Athenian model, was a small room. It had
been chosen by its occupant, not merely on account
of its quiet; for though it was tolerably out of
hearing of the female slaves who worked, and
chattered, and quarrelled under the cloisters of the
women's court on the south side, yet it was exposed
to the rattle of carriages and the voices of passengers
in the fashionable street below, and to strange
bursts of roaring, squealing, and trumpeting from
the Menagerie, a short way off, on the opposite
side of the street. The attraction of the situation
lay, perhaps, in the view which it commanded over
the wall of the Museum gardens, of flower-beds,
shrubberies, fountains, statues, walks, and alcoves,
which had echoed for nearly seven hundred years
to the wisdom of the Alexandrian sages and poets.
School after school, they had all walked, and
taught, and sung there, beneath the spreading
planes and chestnuts, figs and palm-trees. The
place seemed fragrant with all the riches of Greek
thought and song, since the days when Ptolemy
Philadelphus walked there with Euclid and Theo-
critus, Callimachus and Lycophron.
On the left of the garden stretched the lofty
eastern front of the Museum itself, with its picture
The Dying World 19
galleries, halls of statuary, dining-halls, and lecture-
rooms; one huge wing containing that famous
library, founded by the father of Philadelphus,
which held in the time of Seneca, even after the
destruction of a great part of it in Caesar's siege,
four hundred thousand manuscripts. There it
towered up, the wonder of the world, its white roof
bright against the rainless blue; and beyond it,
among the ridges and pediments of noble build-
ings, a broad glimpse of the bright blue sea.
The room was fitted up in the purest Greek
style, not without an affectation of archaism, in the
severe forms and subdued half-tints of the frescoes
which ornamented the walls with scenes from the
old myths of Athene. Yet the general effect, even
under the blazing sun which poured in through
the mosquito nets of the courtyard windows, was
one of exquisite coolness, and cleanliness, and
repose. The room had neither carpet nor fire-
place; and the only movables in it were a sofa-
bed, a table, and an arm-chair, all of such delicate
and graceful forms, as may be seen on ancient
vases of a far earlier period than that whereof we
write. But, most probably, had any of us entered
that room that morning, we should not have been
able to spare a look either for the furniture, or the
general effect, or the Museum gardens, or the
sparkling Mediterranean beyond; but we should
have agreed that the room was quite rich enough
for human eyes, for the sake of one treasure which
it possessed, and, beside which, nothing was worth
a moment's glance. For in the light arm-chair,
reading a manuscript which lay on the table, sat a
woman, of some five-and-twenty years, evidently
the tutelary goddess of that little shrine, dressed in
2O Hypatia
perfect keeping with the archaism of the chamber,
in a simple old snow-white Ionic robe, falling to the
feet and reaching to the throat, and of that pecu-
liarly severe and graceful fashion in which the
upper part of the dress falls downward again from
the neck to the waist in a sort of cape, entirely
hiding the outline of the bust, while it leaves the
arms and the point of the shoulders bare. Her
dress was entirely without ornament, except the two
narrow purple stripes down the front, which marked
her rank as a Roman citizen, the gold-embroidered
shoes upon her feet, and the gold net, which looped
back, from her forehead to her neck, hair the
color and gloss of which were hardly distinguish-
able from that of the metal itself, such as Athene
herself might have envied for tint, and mass, and
ripple. Her features, arms, and hands were of the
severest and grandest type of old Greek beauty,
at once showing everywhere the high development
of the bones, and covering them with that firm,
round, ripe outline, and waxy morbidezza of skin,
which the old Greeks owed to their continual use
not only of the bath and muscular exercise, but
also of daily unguents. There might have seemed
to us too much sadness in that clear gray eye ; too
much self-conscious restraint in those sharp curved
lips ; too much affectation in the studied severity
of her posture as she read, copied, as it seemed,
from some old vase or bas-relief. But the glorious
grace and beauty of every line of face and figure
would have excused, even hidden those defects,
and we should have only recognized the marked
resemblance to the ideal portraits of Athene which
adorned every panel of the walls.
She has lifted her eyes off her manuscript ; she
The Dying World 21
is looking out with kindling countenance over the
gardens of the Museum; her ripe curling Greek
lips, such as we never see now, even among our
own wives and sisters, open. She is talking to
herself. Listen !
" Yes. The statues there are broken. The libra-
ries are plundered. The alcoves are silent. The
oracles are dumb. And yet who says that the
old faith of heroes and sages is dead? The beautiful
can never die. If the gods have deserted their
oracles, they have not deserted the souls who
aspire to them. If they have ceased to guide
nations, they have not ceased to speak to their
own elect. If they have cast off the vulgar herd,
they have not cast off Hypatia.
" Ay. To believe in the old creeds, while every
one else is dropping away from them. ... To
believe in spite of disappointments. . . . To hope
against hope. . . . To show oneself superior to
the herd, by seeing boundless depths of living
glory in myths which have become dark and dead
to them. . . . To struggle to the last against the
new and vulgar superstitions of a rotting age, for
the faith of my forefathers, for the old gods, the
old heroes, the old sages who gauged the myste-
ries of heaven and earth and perhaps to conquer
at least to have my reward ! To be welcomed
into the celestial ranks of the heroic to rise to
the immortal gods, to the ineffable powers, onward,
upward ever, through ages and through eternities,
till I find my home at last, and vanish in the glory
of the Nameless and the Absolute One ! . . ."
And her whole face flashed out into wild glory,
and then sank again suddenly into a shudder of some-
22 Hypatia
thing like fear and disgust, as she saw, watching
her from under the wall of the gardens opposite, a
crooked, withered Jewish crone, dressed out in the
most gorgeous and fantastic style of barbaric finery.
" Why does that old hag haunt me ? I see her
everywhere till the last month at least and
here she is again ! I will ask the prefect to find
out who she is, and get rid of her, before she
fascinates me with that evil eye. Thank the gods,
there she moves away ! Foolish ! foolish of me,
a philosopher. I, to believe, against the authority
of Porphyry himself, too, in evil eyes and magic!
But there is my father, pacing up and down in the
library."
As she spoke, the old man entered from the
next room. He was a Greek, also, but of a more
common, and, perhaps, lower type; dark and
fiery, thin and graceful; his delicate figure and
cheeks, wasted by meditation, harmonized well with
the staid and simple philosophic cloak which he wore
as a sign of his profession. He paced impatiently
up and down the chamber, while his keen, glitter-
ing eyes and restless gestures betokened intense
inward thought. . . .
..." I have it. ... No ; again it escapes it
contradicts itself. Miserable man that I am ! If
there is faith in Pythagoras, the symbol should be
an expanding series of the powers of three ; and
yet that accursed binary factor will introduce itself.
Did not you work the sum out once, Hypatia?"
" Sit down, my dear father, and eat. You have
tasted no food yet this day."
" What do I care for food ! The inexpressible
must be expressed, the work must be done if it
cost me the squaring of the circle. How can he,
The Dying World 23
whose sphere lies above the stars, stoop every
moment to earth?"
" Ay," she answered, half bitterly, " and would
that we could live without food, and imitate
perfectly the immortal gods. But while we are
in this prison-house of matter, we must wear our
chain; even wear it gracefully, if we have the
good taste ; and make the base necessities of this
body of shame symbolic of the divine food of the
reason. There is fruit, with lentils and rice,
waiting for you in the next room; and bread,
unless you despise it too much."
" The food of slaves ! " he answered. " Well, I
will eat, and be ashamed of eating. Stay, did I
tell you? Six new pupils in the mathematical
school this morning. It grows ! It spreads ! We
shall conquer yet ! "
She sighed. " How do you know that they have
not come to you, as Critias and Alcibiades did to
Socrates, to learn a merely political and mundane
virtue ? Strange ! that men should be content to
grovel, and be men, when they might rise to the
rank of gods ! Ah, my father ! That is my
bitterest grief; to see those who have been pre-
tending in the morning lecture-room to worship
every word of mine as an oracle, lounging in the
afternoon round Pelagia's litter ; and then at night
for I know that they do it the dice, and the
wine, and worse. That Pallas herself should be
conquered every day by Venus Pandemos ! That
Pelagia should have more power than I ! Not
that such a creature as that disturbs me : no
created thing, I hope, can move my equanimity;
but if I could stoop to hate I should hate her
hate her."
24 Hypatia
And her voice took a tone which made it some-
what uncertain whether, in spite of all the lofty
impassibility which she felt bound to possess, she
did not hate Pelagia with a most human and
mundane hatred.
But at that moment the conversation was cut
short by the hasty entrance of a slave-girl, who,
with fluttering voice, announced :
" His excellency, madam, the prefect ! His
chariot has been at the gate for these five minutes,
and he is now coming upstairs."
" Foolish child ! " answered Hypatia, with some
affectation of indifference. " And why should that
disturb me? Let him enter."
The door opened, and in came, preceded by the
scent of half-a-dozen different perfumes, a florid,
delicate-featured man, gorgeously dressed out in
senatorial costume, his fingers and neck covered
with jewels.
" The representative of the Caesars honors him-
self by offering at the shrine of Athene Polias, and
rejoices to see in her priestess as lovely a likeness
as ever of the goddess whom she serves. . . . Don't
betray me, but I really cannot help talking sheer
paganism whenever I find myself within the influ-
ence of your eyes."
" Truth is mighty," said Hypatia, as she rose to
greet him with a smile and a reverence.
"Ah, so they say Your excellent father has
vanished. He is really too modest honest,
though about his incapacity for state secrets.
After all, you know it was your Minervaship which
I came to consult. How has this turbulent
Alexandrian rascaldom been behaving itself in my
absence ? "
The Dying World 25
" The herd has been eating, and drinking, and
marrying, as usual, I believe," answered Hypatia,
in a languid tone.
"And multiplying, I don't doubt. Well, there
will be less loss to the empire if I have to crucify a
dozen or two, as I positively will, the next riot. It
is really a great comfort to a statesman that the
masses are so well aware that they deserve hang-
ing and therefore so careful to prevent any danger
of public justice depopulating the province. But
how go on the schools?"
Hypatia shook her head sadly.
" Ah, boys will be boys. ... I plead guilty my-
self. Video meliora proboque, deteriora sequor. You
must not be hard on us. ... Whether we obey
you or not in private life, we do in public ; and if
we enthrone you queen of Alexandria, you must
allow your courtiers and body-guards a few court
licenses. Now don't sigh, or I shall be inconsol-
able. At all events, your worst rival has betaken
herself to the wilderness, and gone to look for the
city of the gods above the cataracts."
"Whom do you mean?" asked Hypatia, in a
tone most unphilosophically eager.
"Pelagia, of course. I met that prettiest and
naughtiest of humanities half-way between here and
Thebes, transformed into a perfect Andromache of
chaste affection."
"And to whom, pray?"
"To a certain Gothic giant. What men those
barbarians do breed ! I was afraid of being crushed
under the elephant's foot at every step I took with
him ! "
" What ! " asked Hypatia, " did your excellency
condescend to converse with such savages ? "
C Vol. VI
26 Hypatia
" To tell you the truth, he had some forty stout
countrymen of his with him, who might have been
troublesome to a perplexed prefect ; not to men-
tion that it is always as well to keep on good terms
with these Goths. Really, after the sack of Rome,
and Athens cleaned out like a beehive by wasps,
things begin to look serious. And as for the great
brute himself, he has rank enough in his way,
boasts of his descent from some cannibal god or
other, really hardly deigned to speak to a paltry
Roman governor, till his faithful and adoring bride
interceded for me. Still, the fellow understood
good living, and we celebrated our new treaty of
friendship with noble libations but I must not
talk about that to you. However, I got rid of
them; quoted all the geographical lies I had
ever heard, and a great many more; quickened
their appetite for their fool's errand notably, and
started them off again. So now the star of Venus
is set, and that of Pallas in the ascendant. Where-
fore tell me what am I to do with Saint Fire-
brand?"
"Cyril?"
" Cyril."
" Justice."
" Ah, Fairest Wisdom, don't mention that horrid
word out of the lecture-room. In theory it is all
very well ; but in poor imperfect earthly practice, a
governor must be content with doing very much
what comes to hand. In abstract justice, now, I
ought to nail up Cyril, deacons, district visitors, and
all, in a row, on the sand-hills outside. That is
simple enough ; but, like a great many simple and
excellent things, impossible."
" You fear the people ? "
The Dying World 27
" Well, my dear lady, and has not the villanous
demagogue got the whole mob on his side ? Am I
to have the Constantinople riots re-enacted here?
I really cannot face it; I have not nerve for it;
perhaps I am too lazy. Be it so."
Hypatia sighed. " Ah, that your excellency but
saw the great duel which depends on you alone 1
Do not fancy that the battle is merely between
Paganism and Christianity "
" Why, if it were, you know, I, as a Christian,
under a Christian and sainted emperor, not to men-
tion his august sister "
"We understand," interrupted she, with an im-
patient wave of her beautiful hand. "Not even
between them ; not even between philosophy and
barbarianism. The struggle is simply one between
the aristocracy and the mob, between wealth,
refinement, art, learning, all that makes a nation
great, and the savage herd of child-breeders below,
the many ignoble, who were meant to labor for
the noble few. Shall the Roman empire command
or obey her own slaves ? is the question which you
and Cyril have to battle out; and the fight must
be internecine."
" I should not wonder if it became so, really,"
answered the prefect, with a shrug of his shoulders.
" I expect every time I ride, to have my brains
knocked out by some mad monk."
"Why not? In an age when, as has been well
and often said, emperors and consulars crawl to the
tombs of a tent-maker and a fisherman, and kiss
the mouldy bones of the vilest slaves ? Why not,
among a people whose God is the crucified son of
a carpenter ? Why should learning, authority, antiq-
uity, birth, rank, the system of empire which has
28 Hypatia
been growing up, fed by the accumulated wisdom
of ages, why, I say, should any of these things
protect your life a moment from the fury of any
beggar who believes that the Son of God died for
him as much as for you, and that he is your equal,
if not your superior in the sight of his low-born and
illiterate deity ! " l
" My most eloquent philosopher, this may be
and perhaps is all very true. I quite agree that
there are very great practical inconveniences of this
kind in the new I mean the Catholic faith ; but
the world is full of inconveniences. The wise man
does not quarrel with his creed for being disagree-
able, any more than he does with his finger for
aching: he cannot help it, and must make the
best of a bad matter. Only tell me how to keep
the peace."
" And let philosophy be destroyed ? "
" That it never will be, as long as Hypatia lives
to illuminate the earth; and, as far as I am con-
cerned, I promise you a clear stage and a great
deal of favor; as is proved by my visiting you
publicly at this moment, before I have given
audience to one of the four hundred bores, great
and small, who are waiting in the tribunal to tor-
ment me. Do help me and advise me. What am
I to do?"
" I have told you."
" Ah, yes, as to general principles. But out of
the lecture-room I prefer a practical expedient:
for instance, Cyril writes to me here plague on
him ! he would not let me even have a week's
1 These are the arguments and the language which were com-
monly employed by Porphyry, Julian, and the other opponents of
Christianity.
The Dying World 29
hunting in peace that there is a plot on the part
of the Jews to murder all the Christians. Here is
the precious document do look at it, in pity.
For aught I know or care, the plot may be an
exactly opposite one, and the Christians intend to
murder all the Jews. But I must take some notice
of the letter."
" I do not see that, your excellency."
" Why, if anything did happen, after all, con-
ceive the missives which would be sent flying off to
Constantinople against me ! "
" Let them go. If you are secure in the con-
sciousness of innocence, what matter?"
" Consciousness of innocence ? I shall lose my
prefecture ! "
** Your danger would be just as great if you
took notice of it. Whatever happened, you would
be accused of favoring the Jews."
" And really there might be some truth in the
accusation. How the finances of the provinces
would go on without their kind assistance, I dare
not think. If those Christians would but lend me
their money, instead of building almshouses and
hospitals with it, they might burn the Jews' quarter
to-morrow, for aught I care. But now . . ."
" But now, you must absolutely take no notice
of this letter. The very tone of it forbids you, for
your own honor, and the honor of the empire.
Are you to treat with a man who talks of the
masses at Alexandria as ' the flock whom the King
of kings has committed to his rule and care'?
Does your excellency, or this proud bishop,
govern Alexandria?"
" Really, my dear lady, I have given up in-
quiring."
30 Hypatia
" But he has not. He comes to you as a per-
son possessing an absolute authority over two-
thirds of the population, which he does not scruple
to hint to you is derived from a higher source than
your own. The consequence is clear. If it be
from a higher source than yours, of course it ought
to control yours ; and you will confess that it ought
to control it you will acknowledge the root and
ground of every extravagant claim which he makes,
if you deign to reply."
" But I must say something, or I shall be pelted
in the streets. You philosophers, however raised
above your own bodies you may be, must really
not forget that we poor worldlings have bones to
be broken."
" Then tell him, and by word of mouth merely,
that as the information which he sends you comes
from his private knowledge, and concerns not him
as bishop, but you as magistrate, you can only
take it into consideration when he addresses you
as a private person, laying a regular information at
your tribunal."
" Charming ! queen of diplomatists as well as
philosophers ! I go to obey you. Ah ! why were
you not Pulcheria? No, for then Alexandria had
been dark, and Orestes missed the supreme happi-
ness of kissing a hand which Pallas, when she
made you, must have borrowed from the workshop
of Aphrodite."
" Recollect that you are a Christian," answered
Hypatia, half smiling.
So the prefect departed; and passing through
the outer hall, which was already crowded with
Hypatia's aristocratic pupils and visitors, bowed
his way out past them, and regained his chariot,
The Dying World 31
chuckling over the rebuff which he intended to
administer to Cyril, and comforting himself with
the only text of Scripture of the inspiration of
which he was thoroughly convinced " Sufficient
for the day is the evil thereof."
At the door was a crowd of chariots, slaves with
their masters' parasols, and the rabble of on-
looking boys and market-folk, as usual in Alex-
andria then,- as in all great cities since, who were
staring at the prefect, and having their heads
rapped by his guards, and wondering what sort of
glorious personage Hypatia might be, and what
sort of glorious house she must live in, to be fit
company for the great governor of Alexandria.
Not that there was not many a sulky and lowering
face among the mob, for the great majority of
them were Christians, and very seditious and tur-
bulent politicians, as Alexandrians, " men of Mace-
donia," were bound to be ; and there was many a
grumble among them, all but audible, at the pre-
fect's going in state to the heathen woman's house
heathen sorceress, some pious old woman called
her before he heard any poor soul's petition in
the tribunal, or even said his prayers in church.
Just as he was stepping into his curricle, a tall
young man, as gorgeously bedizened as himself,
lounged down the steps after him, and beckoned
lazily to the black boy who carried his parasol.
" Ah, Raphael Aben-Ezra ! my excellent friend,
what propitious deity ahem! martyr brings
you to Alexandria just as I want you ! Get up
by my side, and let us have a chat on our way
to the tribunal."
The man addressed came slowly forward with
an ostentatiously low salutation, which could not
3 2 Hypatia
hide, and indeed was not intended to hide, the
contemptuous and lazy expression of his face;
and asked in a drawling tone :
" And for what kind purpose does the repre-
sentative of the Caesars bestow such an honor
on the humblest of his, etc. etc. your pene-
tration will supply the rest."
" Don't be frightened ; I am not going to
borrow money of you," answered Orestes, laugh-
ingly, as the Jew got into the curricle.
" I am glad to hear it. Really one usurer in a
family is enough. My father made the gold, and if
I spend it, I consider that I do all that is required
of a philosopher."
" A charming team of white Nisaeans, is not
this? And only one gray foot among all the
four."
"Yes . . . horses are a bore, I begin to find,
like everything else. Always falling sick, or run-
ning away, or breaking one's peace of mind in
some way or other. Besides, I have been pestered
out of my life there in Cyrene, by commissions for
dogs and horses and bows from that old Episcopal
Nimrod, Synesius."
" What, is the worthy man as lively as ever? "
" Lively? He nearly drove me into a nervous
fever in three days. Up at four in the morning,
always in the most disgustingly good health and
spirits, farming, coursing, shooting, riding over
hedge and ditch after rascally black robbers;
preaching, intriguing, borrowing money; bap-
tizing and excommunicating ; bullying that bully,
Andronicus; comforting old women, and giving
pretty girls dowries ; scribbling one half-hour on
philosophy, and the next on farriery; sitting up
The Dying World 33
all night writing hymns and drinking strong
liquors; off again on horseback at four the next
morning; and talking by the hour all the while
about philosophic abstraction from the mundane
tempest. Heaven defend me from all two-legged
whirlwinds ! By the by, there was a fair daughter
of my nation came back to Alexandria in the
same ship with me, with a cargo that may suit
your highness."
" There are a great many fair daughters of your
nation who might suit me, without any cargo at
all."
" Ah, they have had good practice, the little
fools, ever since the days of Jeroboam the son
of Nebat. But I mean old Miriam you know.
She has been lending Synesius money to fight
the black fellows with; and really it was high
time. They had burnt every homestead for miles
through the province. But the daring old girl
must do a little business for herself; so she went
off, in the teeth of the barbarians, right away
to the Atlas, bought all their lady prisoners, and
some of their own sons and daughters, too, of them,
for beads and old iron ; and has come back with
as pretty a cargo of Lybian beauties as a prefect
of good taste could wish to have the first choice of.
You may thank me for that privilege."
" After, of course, you had suited yourself, my
cunning Raphael ? "
" Not I. Women are bores, as Solomon found
out long ago. Did I never tell you ? I began, as
he did, with the most select harem in Alexandria.
But they quarrelled so, that one day I went out,
and sold them all but one, who was a Jewess so
there were objections on the part of the Rabbis.
34 Hypatia
Then I tried one, as Solomon did ; but my ' garden
shut up/ and my ' sealed fountain ' wanted me to
be always in love with her, so I went to the law-
yers, allowed her a comfortable maintenance, and
now I am as free as a monk, and shall be happy
to give your excellency the benefit of any good
taste or experience which I may possess."
" Thanks, worthy Jew. We are not yet as ex-
alted as yourself, and will send for the old Erictho
this very afternoon. Now listen a moment to base,
earthly, and political business. Cyril has written
to me, to say that you Jews have plotted to murder
all the Christians."
" Well why not ? I most heartily wish it were
true, and think, on the whole, that it very pro-
bably is so."
"By the immortal saints, man! you are not
serious?"
" The four archangels forbid ! It is no concern
of mine. All I say is, that my people are great
fools, like the rest of the world; and have, for
aught I know or care, some such intention. They
won't succeed, of course ; and that is all you have
to care for. But if you think it worth the trouble
which I do not I shall have to go to the
synagogue on business in a week or so, and then
I would ask some of the Rabbis."
" Laziest of men ! and I must answer Cyril
this very day."
" An additional reason for asking no questions
of our people. Now you can honestly say that
you know nothing about the matter."
" Well, after all, ignorance is a stronghold for
poor statesmen. So you need not hurry your-
self."
The Dying World 35
" I assure your excellency I will not."
" Ten days hence, or so, you know."
" Exactly, after it is all over."
"And can't be helped. What a comfort it is,
now and then, that Can't be helped ! "
"It is the root and marrow of all philosophy.
Your practical man, poor wretch, will try to help
this and that, and torment his soul with ways and
means, and preventives and forestallings : your
philosopher quietly says It can't be helped. If
it ought to be, it will be : if it is, it ought to be.
We did not make the world, and we are not respon-
sible for it. There is the sum and substance of
all true wisdom, and the epitome of all that has
been said and written thereon from Philo the Jew
to Hypatia the Gentile. By the way, here 's Cyril
coming down the steps of the Caesareum. A very
handsome fellow, after all, though he is looking
as sulky as a bear."
" With his cubs at his heels. What a scoundrelly
visage that tall fellow deacon, or reader, or
whatever he is by his dress has ! "
" There they are whispering together. Heaven
give them pleasant thoughts and pleasanter faces ! "
" Amen ! " quoth Orestes, with a sneer : and he
would have said Amen in good earnest, had he been
able to take the liberty which we shall and
listen to Cyril's answer to Peter, the tall reader.
" From Hypatia's, you say? Why, he only re-
turned to the city this morning."
" I saw his four-in-hand standing at her door, as
I came down the Museum Street hither, half-an-
hour ago."
" And twenty carriages besides, I don't doubt? "
" The street was blocked up with them. There i
36 Hypatia
Look round the corner now. Chariots, litters,
slaves, and fops. When shall we see such a con-
course as that where it ought to be ? "
Cyril made no answer; and Peter went on:
" Where it ought to be, my father in front of
your door at the Serapeium ? "
" The world, the flesh, and the devil know their
own, Peter : and as long as they have their own to
go to, we cannot expect them to come to us."
" But what if their own were taken out of the
way?"
" They might come to us for want of better
amusement . . . devil and all. Well if I could
get a fair hold of the two first, I would take the
third into the bargain, and see what could be done
with him. But never, while these lecture-rooms
last these Egyptian chambers of imagery
these theatres of Satan, where the devil transforms
himself into an angel of light, and apes Christian
virtue, and bedizens his ministers like ministers of
righteousness, as long as that lecture-room stands,
and the great and the powerful flock to it, to learn
excuses for their own tyrannies and atheisms, so
long will the kingdom of God be trampled under
foot in Alexandria; so long will the princes of
this world, with their gladiators, and parasites,
and money-lenders, be masters here, and not the
bishops and priests of the living God."
It was now Peter's turn to be silent ; and as the
two, with their little knot of district-visitors behind
them, walk moodily along the great esplanade which
overlooked the harbor, and then vanish suddenly
up some dingy alley into the crowded misery of
the sailors' quarter, we will leave them to go about
their errand of mercy, and, like fashionable people,
The Dying World 37
keep to the grand parade, and listen again to our
two fashionable friends in the carved and gilded
curricle with four white blood-horses.
"A fine sparkling breeze outside the Pharos,
Raphael fair for the wheat-ships too."
"Are they gone yet?"
Yes why? I sent the first fleet off three
days ago ; and the rest are clearing outwards
to-day."
" Oh ah so ! Then you have not heard
from Heraclian ? "
" Heraclian ? What the blessed saints has the
Count of Africa to do with my wheat-ships ? "
" Oh, nothing. It 's no business of mine. Only
he is going to rebel. . . . But here we are at your
door."
" To what? " asked Orestes, in a horrified tone.
" To rebel, and attack Rome."
" Good gods God I mean. A fresh bore !
Come in, and tell a poor miserable slave of
a governor speak low, for heaven's sake ! I
hope these rascally grooms have n't overheard
you."
" Easy to throw them into the canal, if they
have," quoth Raphael, as he walked coolly through
hall and corridor after the perturbed governor.
Poor Orestes never stopped till he reached a
little chamber of the inner court, beckoned the Jew
in after him, locked the door, threw himself into an
arm-chair, put his hands on his knees, and sat,
bending forward, staring into Raphael's face with a
ludicrous terror and perplexity.
" Tell me all about it. Tell me this instant."
"I have told you all I know," quoth Raphael,
quietly seating himself on a sofa, and playing with
38 Hypatia
a jewelled dagger. " I thought, of course, that you
were in the secret, or I should have said nothing.
It 's no business of mine, you know."
Orestes, like most weak and luxurious men,
Romans especially, had a wild-beast vein in him
and it burst forth.
" Hell and the furies ! You insolent provincial
slave you will carry these liberties of yours too
far ! Do you know who I am, you accursed Jew?
Tell me the whole truth, or, by the head of the
emperor, I '11 twist it out of you with red-hot
pincers ! "
Raphael's countenance assumed a dogged ex-
pression, which showed that the old Jewish blood
still beat true, under all its affected shell of Neo-
Platonist nonchalance ; and there was a quiet un-
pleasant earnest in his smile, as he answered :
" Then, my dear governor, you will be the first
man on earth who ever yet forced a Jew to say or
do what he did not choose."
" We '11 see ! " yelled Orestes. " Here, slaves ! "
And he clapped his hands loudly.
"Calm yourself, your excellency," quoth Ra-
phael, rising. " The door is locked ; the mosquito
net is across the window; and this dagger is
poisoned. If anything happens to me, you will
offend all the Jew money-lenders, and die in about
three days in a great deal of pain, having missed
our assignation with old Miriam, lost your pleasant-
est companion, and left your own finances and
those of the prefecture in a considerable state of
embarrassment. How much better to sit down,
hear all I have to say philosophically, like a true
pupil of Hypatia, and not expect a man to tell you
what he really does not know."
The Dying World 39
Orestes, after looking vainly round the room
for a place to escape, had quietly subsided into
his chair again ; and by the time that the slaves
knocked at the door, he had so far recovered his
philosophy as to ask, not for the torturers, but
for a page and wine.
" Oh, you Jews ! " quoth he, trying to laugh off
matters. " The same incarnate fiends that Titus
found you ! "
" The very same, my dear prefect. Now for
this matter, which is really important at least
to Gentiles. Heraclian will certainly rebel. Syne-
sius let out as much to me. He has fitted
out an armament for Ostia, stopped his own
wheat-ships, and is going to write to you to stop
yours, and to starve out the Eternal City, Goths,
senate, emperor, and all. Whether you will
comply with his reasonable little request depends
of course on yourself."
" And that again very much on his plans."
" Of course. You cannot be expected to we
will euphemize unless it be made worth your
while."
Orestes sat buried in deep thought.
" Of course not," said he at last, half uncon-
sciously. And then, in sudden dread of having
committed himself, he looked up fiercely at the
Jew.
" And how do I know that this is not some
infernal trap of yours? Tell me how you found
out all this, or by Hercules [he had quite forgotten
his Christianity by this time] by Hercules and
the twelve gods, I '11 "
"Don't use expressions unworthy of a philoso-
pher. My source of information was very simple
40 Hypatia
and very good. He has been negotiating a loan
from the Rabbis at Carthage. They were either
frightened, or loyal, or both, and hung back. He
knew as all wise governors know when they allow
themselves time that it is no use to bully a Jew ;
and applied to me. I never lend money it is
unphilosophical : but I introduced him to old
Miriam, who dare do business with the devil
himself; and by that move, whether he has the
money or not, I cannot tell : but this I can tell,
that we have his secret and so have you now ;
and if you want more information, the old woman,
who enjoys an intrigue as much as she does
Falernian, will get it you."
" Well, you are a true friend, after all."
" Of course I am. Now, is not this method of
getting at the truth much easier and pleasanter
than setting a couple of dirty negroes to pinch
and pull me, and so making it a point of honor
with me to tell you nothing but lies ? Here comes
Ganymede with the wine, just in time to calm
your nerves, and fill you with the spirit of divina-
tion. ... To the goddess of good counsels, my
lord? What wine this is ! "
" True Syrian fire and honey ; fourteen years
old next vintage, my Raphael. Out, Hypocorisma !
See that he is not listening. The impudent
rascal ! I was humbugged into giving two thou-
sand gold pieces for him two years ago, he was
so pretty they said he was only just rising
thirteen and he has been the plague of my life
ever since, and is beginning to want the barber
already. Now, what is the count dreaming of ! "
" His wages for killing Stilicho."
" What, is it not enough to be Count of Africa? "
The Dying World 41
" I suppose he sets off against that his services
during the last three years."
" Well, he saved Africa."
"And thereby Egypt also. And you too, as
well as the emperor, may be considered as owing
him somewhat."
"My good friend, my debts are far too numer-
ous for me to think of paying any of them. But
what wages does he want ? "
"The purple."
Orestes started, and then fell into thought.
Raphael sat watching him a while.
"Now, most noble lord, may I depart? I have
said all I have to say ; and unless I get home to
luncheon at once, I shall hardly have time to find
old Miriam for you, and get through our little
affair with her before sunset."
" Stay. What force has he ? "
" Forty thousand already, they say. And those
Donatist ruffians are with him to a man, if he can
but scrape together wherewith to change their
bludgeons into good steel." *
" Well, go. . . . So. A hundred thousand might
do it," said he, meditating, as Raphael bowed him-
self out. " He won't get them. I don't know,
though ; the man has the head of a Julius. Well
that fool Attalus talked of joining Egypt to the
Western Empire. . . . Not such a bad thought
either. Anything is better than being governed by
an idiot child and three canting nuns. I expect to
be excommunicated every day for some offence
against Pulcheria's prudery. . . . Heraclian empe-
ror at Rome . . . and I lord and master on this
side the sea ... the Donatists pitted again fairly
against the orthodox, to cut each other's throats
42 Hypatia
in peace ... no more of Cyril's spying and tale-
bearing to Constantinople. . . . Not such a bad
dish of fare. . . . But then it would take so
much trouble ! "
With which words, Orestes went into his third
warm bath for that day.
CHAPTER III
THE GOTHS
FOR two days the young monk held on, pad-
dling and floating rapidly down the Nile-
stream, leaving city after city to right and left with
longing eyes, and looking back to one villa after
another, till the reaches of the banks hid them
from his sight, with many a yearning to know
what sort of places those gay buildings and gar-
dens would look like on a nearer view, and what
sort of life the thousands led who crowded the
busy quays, and walked and drove, in an endless
stream, along the great highroads which ran along
either bank. He carefully avoided every boat that
passed him, from the gilded barge of the wealthy
landlord or merchant, to the tiny raft buoyed up
with empty jars, which was floating down to be
sold at some market in the Delta. Here and
there he met and hailed a crew of monks, drawing
their nets in a quiet bay, or passing along the
great watery highway from monastery to monas-
tery : but all the news he received from them was,
that the canal of Alexandria was still several days'
journey below him. It seemed endless, that
monotonous vista of the two high clay banks, with
their sluices and water-wheels, their knots of palms
and date-trees; endless seemed that wearisome
succession of bars of sand and banks of mud, every
one like the one before it, every one dotted with
44 Hypatia
the same line of logs and stones strewn along the
water's edge, which turned out as he approached
them, to be basking crocodiles and sleeping peli-
cans. His eye, wearied with the continual confine-
ment and want of distance, longed for the boundless
expanse of the desert, for the jagged outlines of
those far-off hills, which he had watched from boy-
hood rising mysteriously at morn out of the eastern
sky, and melting mysteriously into it again at
even, beyond which dwelt a whole world of won-
ders, elephants and dragons, satyrs and anthro-
pophagi, ay, and the phoenix itself. Tired and
melancholy, his mind returned inward to prey on
itself, and the last words of Arsenius rose again
and again to his thoughts. " Was his call of the
spirit or of the flesh?" How should he test that
problem? He wished to see the world . . . that
might be carnal. True; but, he wished to con-
vert the world ... was not that spiritual ? Was he
not going on a noble errand? . . . thirsting for toil,
for saintship, for martyrdom itself, if it would but
come and cut the Gordian knot of all temptations,
and save him for he dimly felt that it would save
him a whole sea of trouble in getting safe and
triumphant out of that world into which he had not
yet entered . . . and his heart shrunk back from
the untried homeless wilderness before him. But
no ! the die was cast, and he must down and on-
ward, whether in obedience to the spirit or the
flesh. Oh, for one hour of the quiet of that dear
Laura and the old familiar faces !
At last, a sudden turn of the bank brought him
in sight of a gaudily-painted barge, on board of
which armed men, in uncouth and foreign dresses,
were chasing with barbaric shouts some large
The Goths 45
object in the water. In the bows stood a man of
gigantic stature, brandishing a harpoon in his right
hand, and in his left holding the line of a second,
the head of which was fixed in the huge purple sides
of a hippopotamus, who foamed and wallowed a few
yards down the stream. An old grizzled warrior
at the stern, with a rudder in either hand, kept the
boat's head continually towards the monster, in
spite of its sudden and frantic wheelings; and
when it dashed madly across the stream, some
twenty oars flashed through the water in pursuit.
All was activity and excitement; and it was no
wonder if Philammon's curiosity had tempted him
to drift down almost abreast of the barge, ere he
descried, peeping from under a decorated awning
in the afterpart, some dozen pair of languishing
black eyes, turned alternately to the game and to
himself. The serpents ! chattering and smiling,
with pretty little shrieks and shaking of glossy
curls and gold necklaces, and fluttering of muslin
dresses, within a dozen yards of him ! Blushing
scarlet, he knew not why, he seized his paddle, and
tried to back out of the snare . . . but somehow,
his very efforts to escape those sparkling eyes
diverted his attention from everything else: the
hippopotamus had caught sight of him, and furious
with pain, rushed straight at the unoffending canoe ;
the harpoon line became entangled round his
body, and in a moment he and his frail bark were
overturned, and the monster, with his huge white
tusks gaping wide, close on him, as he struggled in
the stream.
Luckily Philammon, contrary to the wont of
monks, was a bather, and swam like a water-fowl :
fear he had never known: death from childhood
46 Hypatia
had been to him, as to the other inmates of the
Laura, a contemplation too perpetual to have any
paralyzing terror in it, even then, when life seemed
just about to open on him anew. But the monk
was a man, and a young one, and had no intention
of dying tamely or unavenged. In an instant he
had freed himself from the line ; drawn the short
knife which was his only weapon ; and diving sud-
denly, avoided the monster's rush, and attacked
him from behind with stabs, which, though not
deep, still dyed the waters with gore at every
stroke. The barbarians shouted with delight.
The hippopotamus turned furiously against his
new assailant, crushing, alas ! the empty canoe to
fragments with a single snap of his enormous jaws ;
but the turn was fatal to him ; the barge was close
upon him, and as he presented his broad side to
the blow, the sinewy arm of the giant drove a har-
poon through his heart, and with one convulsive
shudder the huge blue mass turned over on its
side and floated dead.
Poor Philammon! He alone was silent, amid
the yells of triumph ; sorrowfully he swam round
and round his little paper wreck ... it would not
have floated a mouse. Wistfully he eyed the dis-
tant banks, half minded to strike out for them, and
escape, . . . and thought of the crocodiles, . . . and
paddled round again, . . . and thought of the basi-
lisk eyes ; ... he might escape the crocodiles, but
who could escape women ? . . . and he struck out
valiantly for shore . . . when he was brought to a
sudden stop by finding the stem of the barge close
on him, a noose thrown over him by some friendly
barbarian, and himself hauled on board, amid the
laughter, praise, astonishment, and grumbling of
The Goths 47
the good-natured crew, who had expected him, as a
matter of course, to avail himself at once of their
help, and could not conceive the cause of his
reluctance.
Philammon gazed with wonder on his strange
hosts, their pale complexions, globular heads and
faces, high cheek-bones, tall and sturdy figures;
their red beards, and yellow hair knotted fantas-
tically above the head; their awkward dresses,
half Roman or Egyptian, and half of foreign fur,
soiled and stained in many a storm and fight, but
tastelessly bedizened with classic jewels, brooches
and Roman coins, strung like necklaces. Only the
steersman, who had come forward to wonder at the
hippopotamus, and to help in dragging the un-
wieldy brute on board, seemed to keep genuine
and unornamented the costume of his race, the
white linen leggings, strapped with thongs of deer-
skin, the quilted leather cuirass, the bear's-fur
cloak, the only ornaments of which were the fangs
and claws of the beast itself, and a fringe of griz-
zled tufts, which looked but too like human hair.
The language which they spoke was utterly unin-
telligible to Philammon, though it need not be so
to us.
" A well-grown lad and a brave one, Wulf the
son of Ovida," said the giant to the old hero of the
bearskin cloak; "and understands wearing skins,
in this furnace-mouth of a climate, rather better
than you do."
" I keep to the dress of my forefathers, Amalric
the Amal. What did to sack Rome in, may do to
find Asgard in."
The giant, who was decked out with helmet,
cuirass, and senatorial boots, in a sort of mongrel
48 Hypatia
mixture of the Roman military and civil dress, his
neck wreathed with a dozen gold chains, and
every finger sparkling with jewels, turned away
with an impatient sneer.
" Asgard Asgard ! If you are in such a hurry
to get to Asgard up this ditch in the sand, you had
better ask the fellow how far it is thither."
Wulf took him quietly at his word, and addressed
a question to the young monk, which he could
only answer by a shake of the head.
" Ask him in Greek, man."
" Greek is a slave's tongue. Make a slave talk
to him in it, not me."
" Here some of you girls ! Pelagia ! you
understand this fellow's talk. Ask him how far it
is to Asgard."
" You must ask me more civilly, my rough hero,"
replied a soft voice from underneath the awning.
" Beauty must be sued, and not commanded."
"Come, then, my olive-tree, my gazelle, my
lotus-flower, my what was the last nonsense you
taught me? and ask this wild man of the sands
how far it is from these accursed endless rabbit-
burrows to Asgard."
The awning was raised, and lying luxuriously on
a soft mattress, fanned with peacock's feathers, and
glittering with rubies and topazes, appeared such a
vision as Philammon had never seen before.
A woman of some two-and-twenty summers,
formed in the most voluptuous mould of Grecian
beauty, whose complexion showed every violet
vein through its veil of luscious brown. Her little
bare feet, as they dimpled the cushions, were more
perfect than Aphrodite's, softer than a swan's
bosom. Every swell of her bust and arms showed
The Goths 49
through the thin gauze robe, while her lower limbs
were wrapped in a shawl of orange silk, embroid-
ered with wreaths of shells and roses. Her dark
nair lay carefully spread out upon the pillow, in a
thousand ringlets entwined with gold and jewels ;
her languishing eyes blazed like diamonds from a
cavern, under eyelids darkened and deepened with
black antimony ; her lips pouted of themselves, by
habit or by nature, into a perpetual kiss ; slowly
she raised one little lazy hand ; slowly the ripe lips
opened; and in most pure and melodious Attic,
she lisped her huge lover's question to the monk,
and repeated it before the boy could shake off the
spell, and answer . . .
" Asgard ? What is Asgard ? "
The beauty looked at the giant for further
instructions.
" The city of the immortal gods," interposed the
old warrior, hastily and sternly, to the lady.
" The city of God is in heaven," said Philammon
to the interpreter, turning his head away from
those gleaming, luscious, searching glances.
His answer was received with a general laugh by
all except the leader, who shrugged his shoulders.
u It may as well be up in the skies as up the
Nile. We shall be just as likely, I believe, to
reach it by flying, as by rowing up this big ditch.
Ask him where the river comes from, Pelagia."
Pelagia obeyed . . . and thereon followed a con-
fusion worse confounded, composed of all the im-
possible wonders of that mythic fairy-land with
which Philammon had gorged himself from boy-
hood in his walks with the old monks, and of the
equally trustworthy traditions which the Goths
had picked up at Alexandria. There was nothing
D Vol. VI
50 Hypatia
which that river did not do. It rose in the Cau-
casus. Where was the Caucasus! He did not
know. In Paradise in Indian ./Ethiopia in
^Ethiopian India. Where were they? He did not
know. Nobody knew. It ran for a hundred and
fifty days' journey through deserts where nothing
but flying serpents and satyrs lived, and the very
lions' manes were burnt off by the heat. . . .
" Good sporting there, at all events, among these
dragons," quoth Smid the son of Troll, armorer
to the party.
" As good as Thor's when he caught Snake Mid-
gard with the bullock's head," said Wulf.
It turned to the East for a hundred days' jour-
ney more, all round Arabia and India, among
forests full of elephants and dog-headed women.
"Better and better, Smid!" growled Wulf,
approvingly.
"Fresh beef cheap there, Prince Wulf, eh?"
quoth Smid ; " I must look over the arrow-heads."
To the mountains of the Hyperboreans, where
there was eternal night, and the air was full of
feathers, . . . That is, one-third of it came from
thence, and another third came from the Southern
ocean, over the Moon mountains, where no one
had ever been, and the remaining third from the
country where the phoenix lived, and nobody
knew where that was. And then there were the
cataracts, and the inundations and and and
above the cataracts, nothing but sand-hills and
ruins, as full of devils as they could hold . . . and
as for Asgard, no one had ever heard of it ... till
every face grew longer and longer, as Pelagia went
on interpreting and misinterpreting; and at last
the giant smote his hand upon his knee, and swore
The Goths 51
a great oath that Asgard might rot till the twilight
of the gods before he went a step farther up the
Nile.
" Curse the monk 1 " growled Wulf. " How
should such a poor beast know anything about the
matter?"
" Why should not he know as well as that ape oi
a Roman governor?" asked Smid.
" Oh, the monks know everything," said Pelagia.
" They go hundreds and thousands of miles up the
river, and cross the deserts among fiends and mon-
sters, where any one else would be eaten up, or go
mad at once."
" Ah, the dear holy men ! It 's all by the sign
of the blessed cross ! " exclaimed all the girls to-
gether, devoutly crossing themselves, while two or
three of the most enthusiastic were half-minded to
go forward and kneel to Philammon for his bless-
ing; but hesitated, their Gothic lovers being
heathenishly stupid and prudish on such points.
" Why should he not know as well as the pre-
fect? Well said, Smid 1 I believe that prefect's
quill-driver was humbugging us when he said
Asgard was only ten days' sail up."
"Why?" asked Wulf.
" I never give any reasons. What 's the use of
being an Amal, and a son of Odin, if one has
always to be giving reasons like a rascally Roman
lawyer? I say the governor looked like a liar;
and I say this monk looks like an honest fellow;
and I choose to believe him, and there is an end
of it."
" Don't look so cross at me, Prince Wulf; I 'm
sure it 's not my fault ; I could only say what the
monk told me," whispered poor Pelagia.
52 * Hypatia
"Who looks cross at you, my queen?" roared
the Amal. " Let me have him out here, and by
Thor's hammer, I '11 "
"Who spoke to you, you stupid darling?" an-
swered Pelagia, who lived in hourly fear of thunder-
storms. " Who is going to be cross with any one,
except I with you, for mishearing and misunder-
standing, and meddling, as you are always doing?
I shall do as I threatened, and run away with
Prince Wulf, if you are not good. Don't you see
that the whole crew are expecting you to make
them an oration?"
Whereupon the Amal rose.
"See you here, Wulf the son of Ovida, and
warriors all ! If we want wealth, we sha'n't find
it among the sand-hills. If we want women, we
shall find nothing prettier than these among
dragons and devils. Don't look angry, Wulf.
You have no mind to marry one of those dog-
headed girls the monk talked of, have you?
Well, then, we have money and women; and if
we want sport, it's better sport killing men than
killing beasts ; so we had better go where we shall
find most of that game, which we certainly shall
not up this road. As for fame and all that, though
I 've had enough, there 's plenty to be got any-
where along the shores of that Mediterranean.
Let's burn and plunder Alexandria: forty of
us Goths might kill down all those donkey-riders
in two days, and hang up that lying prefect who
sent us here on this fool's errand. Don't answer,
Wulf. I knew he was humbugging us all along,
but you were so open-mouthed to all he said, that
I was bound to let my elders choose for me.
Let 's go back ; send over for any of the tribes j
The Goths 53
send to Spain for those Vandals they have
had enough of Adolf by now, curse him !
I '11 warrant them ; get together an army, and
take Constantinople. I'll be Augustus, and
Pelagia, Augusta; you and Smid here, the two
Caesars ; and we '11 make the monk the chief of
the eunuchs, eh ? anything you like for a quiet
life; but up this accursed kennel of hot water
I go no farther. Ask your girls, my heroes, and
I '11 ask mine. Women are all prophetesses, every
one of them."
" When they are not harlots," growled Wulf to
himself.
" I will go to the world's end with you, my
king!" sighed Pelagia; "but Alexandria is cer-
tainly pleasanter than this."
Old Wulf sprang up fiercely enough.
" Hear me, Amalric the Amal, son of Odin,
and heroes all ! When my fathers swore to be
Odin's men, and gave up the kingdom to the Holy
Amals, the sons of the ^Esir, what was the bond
between your fathers and mine? Was it not
that we should move and move, southward and
southward ever, till we came back to Asgard, the
city where Odin dwells for ever, and gave into
his hands the kingdom of all the earth? And did
we not keep our oath? Have we not held to the
Amals? Did we not leave Adolf, because we
would not follow a Balth, while there was an Amal
to lead us? Have we not been true men to you,
son of the ^Esir?"
"No man ever saw Wulf, the son of Ovida,
fail friend or foe."
"Then why does his friend fail him? Why
does his friend fail himself? If the bison-bull lie
54 Hypatia
down and wallow, what will the herd do for a
leader? If the king-wolf lose the scent, how will
the pack hold it? If the Yngling forgets the song
of Asgard, who will sing it to the heroes?"
" Sing it yourself, if you choose. Pelagia sings
quite well enough for me."
In an instant the cunning beauty caught at the
hint, and poured forth a soft, low, sleepy song :
" Loose the sail, rest the oar, float away down,
Fleeting and gliding by tower and town ;
Life is so short at best ! snatch, while thou can'st, thy rest,
Sleeping by me ! "
" Can you answer that, Wulf ? " shouted a dozen
voices.
" Hear the song of Asgard, warriors of the
Goths ! Did not Alaric the king love it well !
Did I not sing it before him in the palace of the
Caesars, till he swore, for all the Christian that he
was, to go southward in search of the holy city?
And when he went to Valhalla, and the ships were
wrecked off Sicily, and Adolf the Balth turned
back like a lazy hound, and married the daughter
of the Romans, whom Odin hates, and went north-
ward again to Gaul, did not I sing you all the song
of Asgard in Messina there, till you swore to
follow the Amal through fire and water until we
found the hall of Odin, and received the mead-cup
from his own hand? Hear it again, warriors of
the Goths!"
" Not that song ! " roared the Amal, stopping
his ears with both his hands. " Will you drive us
blood-mad again, just as we are settling down into
our sober senses, and finding out what our lives
were given us for?"
The Goths 55
" Hear the song of Asgard ! On to Asgard,
wolves of the Goths ! " shouted another ; and a
Babel of voices arose.
" Have n't we been fighting and marching these
seven years ? "
"Haven't we drank blood enough to satisfy
Odin ten times over? If he wants us, let him
come himself and lead us ! "
" Let us get our winds again before we start
afresh?"
" Wulf the Prince is like his name, and never
tires; he has a winter-wolf's legs under him;
that is no reason why we should have."
"Haven't you heard what the monk says?
we can never get over those cataracts."
" We '11 stop his old-wives' tales for him, and
then settle for ourselves," said Smid ; and spring-
ing from the thwart where he had been sitting,
he caught up a bill with one hand, and seized
Philammon's throat with the other ... in a
moment more, it would have been all ove; with
him . . .
For the first time in his life Philammon felt a
hostile gripe upon him, and a new sensation rushed
through every nerve, as he grappled with the
warrior, clutched with his left hand the uplifted
wrist, and with his right the girdle, and com-
menced without any definite aim, a fierce struggle,
which, strange to say, as it went on, grew abso-
lutely pleasant.
The women shrieked to their lovers to part the
combatants, but in vain.
"Not for worlds! A very fair match and a
very fair fight ! Take your long legs back, Itho,
or they will be over you ! That 's right, my Srnid,
56 Hypatia
don't use the knife ! They will be overboard in a
moment! By all the Valkyrs, they are down I
and Smid undermost 1 "
There was no doubt of it; and in another
moment Philammon would have wrenched the bill
out of his opponent's hand, when, to the utter
astonishment of the on-lookers, he suddenly loosed
his hold, shook himself free by one powerful
wrench, and quietly retreated to his seat, con-
science-stricken at the fearful thirst for blood
which had suddenly boiled up within him as he
felt his enemy under him.
The on-lookers were struck dumb with astonish-
ment ; they had taken for granted that he would,
as a matter of course, have used his right of split-
ting his vanquished opponent's skull an event
which they would of course have deeply deplored,
but with which, as men of honor, they could not
on any account interfere, but merely console them-
selves for the loss of their comrade by flaying his
conqueror alive, " carving him into the blood-eagle,"
or any other delicate ceremony which might serve
as a vent for their sorrow and a comfort to the soul
of the deceased.
Smid rose, with a bill in his hand, and looked
round him perhaps to see what was expected
of him. He half lifted his weapon to strike. . . .
Philammon, seated, looked him calmly in the
face. ... The old warrior's eye caught the bank,
which was now receding rapidly past them; and
when he saw that they were really floating down-
wards again, without an effort to stem the stream,
he put away his bill, and sat himself down delib-
erately in his place, astonishing the on-lookers
quite as much as Philammon had done.
The Goths 57
" Five minutes' good fighting, and no one killed !
This is a shame ! " quoth another. " Blood we
must see, and it had better be yours, master monk,
than your betters'," and therewith he rushed on
poor Philammon.
He spoke the heart of the crew; the sleeping
wolf in them had been awakened by the struggle,
and blood they would have; and not frantically,
like Celts or Egyptians, but with the cool, humor-
ous cruelty of the Teuton, they rose altogether,
and turning Philammon over on his back, delib-
erated by what death he should die.
Philammon quietly submitted if submission
have anything to do with that state of mind in
which sheer astonishment and novelty have broken
up all the custom of man's nature, till the strangest
deeds and sufferings are taken as matters of
course. His sudden escape from the Laura, the
new world of thought and action into which he
had been plunged, the new companions with whom
he had fallen in, had driven him utterly from his
moorings, and now anything and everything might
happen to him. He who had promised never to
look upon woman found himself, by circumstances
over which he had no control, amid a boatful
of the most objectionable species of that most
objectionable genus and the utterly worst hav-
ing happened, everything else which happened
must be better than the worst. For the rest, he
had gone forth to see the world and this was
one of the ways of it. So he made up his mind
to see it, and be filled with the fruit of his own
devices.
And he would have been certainly filled with
the same in five minutes more, in some shape
5 8 Hypatia
too ugly to be mentioned: but, as even sinful
women have hearts in them, Pelagia shrieked
out:
" Amalric t Amalric f do not let them ! I can-
not bear it!"
"The warriors are free men, my darling, and
know what is proper. And what can the life of
such a brute be to you ! "
Before he could stop her, Pelagia had sprung
from her cushions, and thrown herself into the
midst of the laughing ring of wild beasts.
" Spare him ! Spare him for my sake ! " shrieked
she.
"Oh, my pretty lady! you mustn't interrupt
warriors' sport ! "
In an instant she had torn off her shawl, and
thrown it over Philammon ; and as she stood, with
all the outlines of her beautiful limbs revealed
through the thin robe of spangled gauze :
" Let the man who dares, touch him beneath
that shawl ! though it be a saffron one ! "
The Goths drew back. For Pelagia herself
they had as little respect as the rest of the world
had. But for a moment she was not the Messalina
of Alexandria, but a woman ; and true to the old
woman-worshipping instinct, they looked one and
all at her flashing eyes, full of noble pity and
indignation, as well as of mere woman's terror
and drew back, and whispered together.
Whether the good spirit or the evil one would
conquer, seemed for a moment doubtful, when
Pelagia felt a heavy hand on her shoulder, and
turning, saw Wulf the son of Ovida.
" Go back, pretty woman ! Men, I claim the
boy. Smid, give him to me. He is your man.
The Goths 59
You could have killed him if you had chosen, and
did not; and no one else shall."
" Give him us, Prince Wulf ! We have not
seen blood for many a day ! "
" You might have seen rivers of it, if you had
had the hearts to go onward. The boy is mine,
and a brave boy. He has upset a warrior fairly
this day, and spared him; and we will make a
warrior of him in return."
And he lifted up the prostrate monk.
" You are my man now. Do you like fighting? "
Philammon, not understanding the language in
which he was addressed, could only shake his head
though if he had known what its import was, he
could hardly in honesty have said, No.
" He shakes his head ! He does not like it !
He is craven ! Let us have him ! "
"I had killed kings when you were shooting
frogs," cried Smid. " Listen to me, my sons ! A
coward grips sharply at first, and loosens his hand
after a while, because his blood is soon hot and
soon cold. A brave man's gripe grows the firmer
the longer he holds, because the spirit of Odin
comes upon him. I watched the boy's hands on
my throat ; and he will make a man ; and I will
make him one. However, we may as well make
him useful at once ; so give him an oar."
" Well," answered his new protector, " he can as
well row us as be rowed by us ; and if we are to go
back to a cow's death and the pool of Hela, the
quicker we go the better."
And as the men settled themselves again to their
oars, one was put into Philammon's hand, which he
managed with such strength and skill, that his late
tormentors, who, in spite of an occasional inclina-
60 Hypatia
tion to robbery and murder, were thoroughly
good-natured, honest fellows, clapped him on the
back, and praised him as heartily as they had just
jiow heartily intended to torture him to death, and
then went fonvard, as many of them as were not
rowing, to examine the strange beast which they
had just slaughtered, pawing him over from tusks
to tail, putting their heads into his mouth, trying
their knives on his hide, comparing him to all
beasts, like and unlike, which they had ever seen,
and laughing and shoving each other about with
the fun and childish wonder of a party of school-
boys; till Smid, who was the wit of the party,
settled the comparative anatomy of the subject for
them:
" Valhalla ! I Ve found out what he 's most
like ! One of those big blue plums, which gave
us all the stomach-ache when we were encamped
in the orchards above Ravenna ! "
CHAPTER IV
MIRIAM
ONE morning in the same week, Hypatia's
favorite maid entered her chamber with a
somewhat terrified face.
" The old Jewess, madam the hag who has
been watching so often lately under the wall
opposite. She frightened us all out of our senses
last evening by peeping in. We all said she had
the evil eye, if any one ever had "
"Well, what of her?"
" She is below, madam, and will speak with you.
Not that I care for her ; I have my amulet on. I
hope you have?"
" Silly girl ! Those who have been initiated as
I have in the mysteries of the gods, can defy
spirits and command them. Do you suppose that
the favorite of Pallas Athene will condescend to
charms and magic? Send her up."
The girl retreated, with a look half of awe, half
of doubt at the lofty pretensions of her mistress,
and returned with old Miriam, keeping, however,
prudently behind her, in order to test as little as
possible the power of her own amulet by avoiding
the basilisk eye which had terrified her.
Miriam came in, and advancing to the proud
beauty, who remained seated, made an obeisance
down to the very floor, without, however, taking
her eyes for an instant off Hypatia's face.
62 Hypatia
Her countenance was haggard and bony, with
broad sharp-cut lips, stamped with a strangely
mingled expression of strength and sensuality.
But the feature about her which instantly fixed
Hypatia's attention, and from which she could not
in spite of herself withdraw it, was the dry, glitter-
ing, coal-black eye which glared out from under-
neath the gray fringe of her swarthy brows, between
black locks covered with gold coins. Hypatia
could look at nothing but those eyes; and she
reddened, and grew all but unphilosophically
angry, as she saw that the old woman intended her
to look at them, and feel the strange power which
she evidently wished them to exercise.
After a moment's silence, Miriam drew a letter
from her bosom, and with a second low obeisance
presented it.
" From whom is this ? "
" Perhaps the letter itself will tell the beautiful
lady, the fortunate lady, the discerning lady,"
answered she, in a fawning, wheedling tone.
" How should a poor old Jewess know great folks'
secrets?"
"Great folks? "
Hypatia looked at the seal which fixed a silk
cord round the letter. It was Orestes'; and so
was the handwriting. . . . Strange that he should
have chosen such a messenger! What message
could it be which required such secrecy?
She clapped her hands for the maid. " Let this
woman wait in the ante-room." Miriam glided
out backwards, bowing as she went. As Hypatia
looked up over the letter to see whether she was
alone, she caught a last glance of that eye still
fixed upon her, and an expression in Miriam's face
Miriam 63
which made her, she knew not why, shudder and
turn chill.
" Foolish that I am ! What can that witch be
to me ? But now for the letter."
" To the most noble and most beautiful, the mistress
of philosophy, beloved of Athene, her pupil and slave
sends greeting." . . .
" My slave ! and no name mentioned ! "
" There are those who consider that the favorite hen
of Honorius, which bears the name of the Imperial City,
would thrive better under a new feeder ; and the Count
of Africa has been despatched by himself and by the
immortal gods to superintend for the present the poultry-
yard of the Caesars at least during the absence of
Aldolf and Placidia. There are those also who consider
that in his absence the Numidian lion might be pre-
vailed on to become the yoke-fellow of the Egyptian
crocodile ; and a farm which, ploughed by such a pair,
should extend from the upper cataract to the pillars of
Hercules, might have charms even for a philosopher.
But while the ploughman is without a nymph, Arcadia is
imperfect. What were Dionusos without his Ariadne,
Ares without Aphrodite, Zeus without Here? Even
Artemis has her Endymion; Athene alone remains
unwedded ; but only because Hephaestus was too rough
a wooer. Such is not he who now offers to the repre-
sentative of Athene the opportunity of sharing that
which may be with the help of her wisdom, which with-
out her is impossible. Quvavra. (rweroio-iv. Shall Eros,
invincible for ages, be balked at last of the noblest
game against which he ever drew his bow? " . . .
If Hypatia's color had faded a moment before
under the withering glance of the old Jewess,
it rose again swiftly enough, as she read line after
64 Hypatia
line of this strange epistle ; till at last, crushing it
together in her hand, she rose and hurried into the
adjoining library, where Theon sat over his books.
" Father, do you know anything of this ? Look
what Orestes has dared to send me by the hands
of some base Jewish witch ! " And she spread
the letter before him, and stood impatient, her
whole figure dilated with pride and anger, as the old
man read it slowly and carefully, and then looked
up, apparently not ill pleased with the contents.
"What, father? " asked she, half reproachfully.
"Do not you, too, feel the insult which has been
put upon your daughter? "
" My dear child," with a puzzled look, " do you
not see that he offers you "
" I know what he offers me, father. The Empire
of Africa. ... I am to descend from the mountain
heights of science, from the contemplation of the
unchangeable and ineffable glories, into the foul
fields and farmyards of earthly practical life, and
become a drudge among political chicanery, and
the petty ambitions, and sins, and falsehoods of
the earthly herd. . . . And the price which he
offers me me, the stainless me, the virgin
me, the untamed, is his hand ! Pallas Athene I
dost thou not blush with thy child ? "
" But, my child my child, an empire "
"Would the empire of the world restore my
lost self-respect my just pride? Would it save
my cheek from blushes every time I recollected
that I bore the hateful and degrading name of
wife? The property, the puppet of a man
submitting to his pleasure bearing his children
wearing myself out with all the nauseous cares
of wifehood no longer able to glory in myself,
Miriam 65
pure and self-sustained, but forced by day and
night to recollect that my very beauty is no longer
the sacrament of Athene's love for me, but the
plaything of a man ; and such a man as that !
Luxurious, frivolous, heartless courting my soci-
ety, as he has done for years, only to pick up and
turn to his own base earthly uses the scraps which
fall from the festal table of the gods ! I have en-
couraged him too much vain fool that I have
been! No, I wrong myself! It was only I
thought I thought that by his being seen at
our doors, the cause of the immortal gods would
gain honor and strength in the eyes of the multi-
tude. ... I have tried to feed the altars of heaven
with earthly fuel. . . . And this is my just reward !
I will write to him this moment ; return by
the fitting messenger which he has sent, insult
for insult ! "
"In the name of Heaven, my daughter! for
your father's sake ! for my sake ! Hypatia !
my pride, my joy, my only hope ! have pity on
my gray hairs ! "
And the poor old man flung himself at her feet,
and clasped her knees imploringly.
Tenderly she lifted him up, and wound her long
arms round him, and laid his head on her white
shoulder, and her tears fell fast upon his gray
hair ; but her lip was firm and determined.
"Think of my pride my glory in your glory;
think of me. . . . Not for myself! You know I
never cared for myself ! " sobbed out the old man.
" But to die seeing you empress ! "
" Unless I died first in childbed, father, as many
a woman dies who is weak enough to become a
slave., and submit to tortures only fit for slaves."
66 Hypatia
" But but " said the old man, racking his
bewildered brains for some argument far enough
removed from nature and common sense to have
an effect on the beautiful fanatic " but the cause
of the gods ! What you might do for it ! ...
Remember Julian ! "
Hypatia's arms dropped suddenly. Yes ; it was
true ! The thought flashed across her mind with
mingled delight and terror. . . . Visions of her
childhood rose swift and thick temples sacri-
fices priesthoods colleges museums ! What
might she not do? What might she not make
Africa! Give her ten years of power, and the
hated name of Christian might be forgotten, and
Athene Polias, colossal in ivory and gold, watch-
ing in calm triumph over the harbors of a heathen
Alexandria. . . . But the price I
And she hid her face in her hands, and bursting
into bitter tears, walked slowly away into her own
chamber, her whole body convulsed with the inter-
nal struggle.
The old man looked after her, anxiously and
perplexed, and then followed, hesitating. She was
sitting at the table, her face buried in her hands.
He did not dare to disturb her. In addition to all
the affection, the wisdom, the glorious beauty, on
which his whole heart fed day by day, he believed
her to be the possessor of those supernatural
powers and favors to which she so boldly laid
claim. And he stood watching her in the door-
way, praying in his heart to all gods and demons,
principalities and powers, from Athene down to
his daughter's guardian spirit, to move a deter-
mination which he was too weak to gainsay, and
yet too rational to approve.
Miriam 67
At last the struggle was over, and she looked up,
clear, calm, and glorious again.
"It shall be. For the sake of the immortal
gods for the sake of art, and science, and learn-
ing, and philosophy. ... It shall be. If the gods
demand a victim, here am I. If a second time in
the history of the ages the Grecian fleet cannot
sail forth, conquering and civilizing, without the
sacrifice of a virgin, I give my throat to the
knife. Father, call me no more Hypatia : call me
Iphigenia ! "
" And me Agamemnon ? " asked the old man,
attempting a faint jest through his tears of joy.
"I dare say you think me a very cruel father;
but "
" Spare me, father I have spared you."
And she began to write her answer.
" I have accepted his offer conditionally, that
is. And on whether he have courage or not to
fulfil that condition depends Do not ask me
what it is. While Cyril is leader of the Christian
mob, it may be safer for you, my father, that you
should be able to deny all knowledge of my an-
swer. Be content. I have said this that if he
will do as I would have him do, I will do as you
would have me do."
" Have you not been too rash? Have you not
demanded of him something which, for the sake of
public opinion, he dare not grant openly, and yet
which he may allow you to do for yourself when
once "
" I have. If I am to be a victim, the sacrificing
priest shall at least be a man, and not a coward
and a time-server. If he believes this Christian
faith, let him defend it against me ; for either it or
68 Hypatia
I shall perish. If he does not as he does not
let him give up living in a lie, and taking on his
lips blasphemies against the immortals, from which
his heart and reason revolt ! "
And she clapped her hands again for the maid-
servant, gave her the letter silently, shut the doors
of her chamber, and tried to resume her Com-
mentary on Plotinus. Alas! what were all the
wire-drawn dreams of metaphysics to her in that
real and human struggle of the heart? What
availed it to define the process by which individual
souls emanated from the universal one, while her
own soul had, singly and on its own responsibility,
to decide so terrible an act of will? or to write fine
words with pen and ink about the immutability of
the supreme Reason, while her own reason was
left there to struggle for its life amid a roaring
shoreless waste of doubts and darkness ? Oh, how
grand, and clear, and logical it had all looked half
an hour ago ! And how irrefragably she had been
deducing from it all, syllogism after syllogism, the
non-existence of evil ! how it was but a lower
form of good, one of the countless products of the
one great all-pervading mind which could not err
or change, only so strange and recondite in its
form as to excite antipathy in all minds but that of
the philosopher, who learnt to see the stem which
connected the apparently bitter fruit with the per-
fect root from whence it sprung. Could she see
the stem there ? the connection between the
pure and supreme Reason, and the hideous caresses
of the debauched and cowardly Orestes? was not
that evil, pure, unadulterate with any vein of good,
past, present, or future? . . .
True ; she might keep her spirit pure amid it
Miriam 69
all ; she might sacrifice the base body, and ennoble
the soul by the self-sacrifice. . . . And yet, would
not that increase the horror, the agony, the evil of
it to her, at least, most real evil, not to be
explained away and yet the gods required it?
Were they just, merciful in that? Was it like
them, to torture her, their last unshaken votary?
Did they require it? Was it not required of them
by some higher power, of whom they were only
the emanations, the tools, the puppets ? and re-
quired of that higher power by some still higher
one some nameless, absolute destiny of which
Orestes and she, and all heaven and earth, were
but the victims, dragged along in an inevitable
vortex, helpless, hopeless, toward that for which
each was meant? And she was meant for this!
The thought was unbearable ; it turned her giddy.
No ! she would not ! She would rebel ! Like
Prometheus, she would dare destiny, and brave its
worst ! And she sprang up to recall the letter. . . .
Miriam was gone; and she threw herself on the
floor, and wept bitterly.
And her peace of mind would certainly not
have been improved, could she have seen old
Miriam hurry home with her letter to a dingy
house in the Jews' quarter, where it was unsealed,
read, and sealed up again with such marvellous
skill, that no eye could have detected the change ;
and finally, still less would she have been com-
forted could she have heard the conversation which
was going on in a summer-room of Orestes' palace,
between that illustrious statesman and Raphael
Aben-Ezra, who were lying on two divans opposite
each other, whiling away, by a throw or two of dice,
the anxious moments which delayed her answer.
70 Hypatia
" Treys again ! The devil is in you, Raphael ! "
" I always thought he was," answered Raphael,
sweeping up the gold pieces. . . .
" When will that old witch be back? "
" When she has read through your letter and
Hypatia's answer."
"Read them?"
" Of course. You don't fancy she is going to
be fool enough to carry a message without know-
ing what it is? Don't be angry; she won't tell.
She would give one of those two grave-lights
there, which she calls her eyes, to see the thing
prosper."
"Why?"
"Your excellency will know when the letter
comes. Here she is ; I hear steps in the cloister.
Now, one bet before they enter. I give you two
to one she asks you to turn pagan."
" What in ? Negro-boys ? "
" Anything you like."
" Taken. Come in, slaves 1 "
And Hypocorisma entered, pouting.
" That Jewish fury is outside with a letter, and
has the impudence to say she won't let me bring
it in ! "
" Bring her in then. Quick ! "
" I wonder what I am here for, if people have
secrets that I am not to know," grumbled the
spoilt youth.
" Do you want a blue ribbon round those white
sides of yours, you monkey?" answered Orestes.
"Because, if you do, the hippopotamus hide hangs
ready outside."
" Let us make him kneel down here for a couple
of hours, and use him as a dice-toard," said
Miriam 7 1
Raphael, "as you used to do to the girls in
Armenia."
"Ah, you recollect that? and how the barba-
rian papas used to grumble, till I had to crucify one
or two, eh ? That was something like life ! I love
those out-of-the-way stations, where nobody asks
questions : but here one might as well live among
the monks in Nitria. Here comes Canidia! Ah, the
answer ? Hand it here, my queen of go-betweens ! "
Orestes read it, and his countenance fell.
"I have won?"
" Out of the room, slaves ! and no listening ! "
"I have won then?"
Orestes tossed the letter across to him, and
Raphael read:
" The immortal gods accept no divided worship ; and
he who would command the counsels of their prophetess
must remember that they will vouchsafe to her no illu-
mination till their lost honors be restored. If he who
aspires to be the lord of Africa dare trample on the hate-
ful cross, and restore the Caesareum to those for whose
worship it was built if he dare proclaim aloud with his
lips, and in his deeds, that contempt for novel and bar-
barous superstitions, which his taste and reason have
already taught him, then he would prove himself one
with whom it were a glory to labor, to dare, to die in a
great cause. But till then "
And so the letter ended.
"What am I to do?"
" Take her at her word."
" Good heavens ! I shall be excommunicated !
And and what is to become of my soul ? "
" What will become of it in any case, my most
excellent lord ? " answered Raphael, blandly.
72 Hypatia
" You mean I know what you cursed Jews
think will happen to every one but yourselves.
But what would the world say? I an apostate I
And in the face of Cyril and the populace ! I
dare n't, I tell you ! "
" No one asked your excellency to apostatize."
" Why, what? What did you say just now? "
"I asked you to promise. It will not be the
first time that promises before marriage have not
exactly coincided with performance afterwards."
"I daren't that is, I won't promise. I be-
lieve, now, this is some trap of your Jewish intrigue,
just to make me commit myself against those
Christians, whom you hate."
" I assure you, I despise all mankind far too pro-
foundly to hate them. How disinterested my
advice was when I proposed this match to you,
you never will know ; indeed, it would be boastful
in me to tell you. But really you must make a
little sacrifice to win this foolish girl. With all the
depth and daring of her intellect to help you, you
might be a match for Romans, Byzantines, and
Goths at once. And as for beauty why, there is
one dimple inside that wrist, just at the setting on
of the sweet little hand, worth all the other flesh
and blood in Alexandria."
" By Jove ! you admire her so much, I suspect
you must be in love with her yourself. Why don't
you marry her? I '11 make you my prime minister,
and then we shall have the use of her wits without
the trouble of her fancies. By the twelve gods !
If you marry her and help me, I '11 make you what
you like ! "
Raphael rose and bowed to the earth.
"Your serene high-mightiness overwhelms me.
Miriam 73
But I assure you, that never having as yet cared
for any one's interest but my own, I could not be
expected, at my time of life, to devote myself to
that of another, even though it were to yours."
" Candid ! "
" Exactly so ; and moreover, whosoever I may
marry, will be practically, as well as theoreti-
cally, my private and peculiar property. . . . You
comprehend."
" Candid again."
if Exactly so; and waiving the third argument,
that she probably might not choose to marry me,
I beg to remark that it would not be proper to
allow the world to say, that I, the subject, had a
wiser and fairer wife than you, the ruler; espe-
cially a wife who had already refused that ruler's
complimentary offer."
" By Jove ! and she has refused me in good
earnest ! I '11 make her repent it ! I was a fool
to ask her at all ! What 's the use of having
guards, if one can't compel what one wants? If
fair means can't do it, foul shall ! I '11 send for her
this moment ! "
" Most illustrious majesty it will not succeed.
You do not know that woman's determination.
Scourges and red-hot pincers will not shake her,
alive ; and dead, she will be of no use whatsoever
to you, while she will be of great use to Cyril."
"How?"
" He will be most happy to make the whole
story a handle against you, give out that she died
a virgin-martyr, in defence of the most holy cath-
olic and apostolic faith, get miracles worked at her
tomb, and pull your palace about your ears on the
strength thereof."
E Vol. VI
74 Hypatia
" Cyril will hear of it anyhow : that 's another
dilemma into which you have brought me, you
intriguing rascal ! Why, this girl will be boasting
all over Alexandria that I have offered her
marriage, and that she has done herself the
honor to refuse me ! "
"She will be much too wise to do anything of
the kind; she has sense enough to know that if
she did so, you would inform a Christian populace
what conditions she offered you, and, with all her
contempt for the burden of the flesh, she has no
mind to be lightened of that pretty load by being
torn in pieces by Christian monks: a very prob-
able ending for her in any case, as she herself, in
her melancholy moods, confesses ! "
" What will you have me to do, then ? "
"Simply nothing. Let the prophetic spirit go
out of her, as it will, in a day or two, and then I
know nothing of human nature, if she does not
bate a little of her own price. Depend on it, for
all her ineffabilities, and impassibilities, and all the
rest of the seventh-heaven moonshine at which we
play here in Alexandria, a throne is far too pretty
a bait for even Hypatia the Pythoness to refuse.
Leave well alone is a good rule, but leave ill alone
is a better. So now another bet before we part,
and this time three to one. Do nothing either
way, and she sends to you of her own accord
before a month is out. In Caucasian mules?
Done? Be it so."
" Well, you are the most charming counsellor
for a poor perplexed devil of a prefect ! If I had
but a private fortune like you, I could just take
the money, and let the work do itself."
" Which is the true method of successful govern-
Miriam 75
ment. Your slave bids you farewell. Do not
forget our bet. You dine with me to-morrow?"
And Raphael bowed himself out.
As he left the prefect's door, he saw Miriam on
the opposite side of the street, evidently watching
for him. As soon as she saw him, she held her
own side, without appearing to notice him, till he
turned a corner, and then crossing, caught him
eagerly by the arm.
"Does the fool dare?"
"Who dare what?"
" You know what I mean. Do you suppose old
Miriam carries letters without taking care to know
what is inside them? Will he apostatize? Tell
me. I am secret as the grave ! "
" The fool has found an old worm-eaten rag of
conscience somewhere in the corner of his heart,
and dare not."
" Curse the coward ! And such a plot as I had
laid ! I would have swept every Christian dog
out of Africa within the year. What is the man
afraid of?"
" Hell-fire."
" Why, he will go there in any case, the accursed
Gentile ! "
"So I hinted to him, as delicately as I could;
but, like the rest of the world, he had a sort of
partiality for getting thither by his own road."
"Coward! And whom shall I get now? Oh,
if that Pelagia had as much cunning in her whole
body as Hypatia has in her little finger, I 'd seat
her and her Goth upon the throne of the Caesars.
But "
"But she has five senses, and just enough wit
to use them, eh?"
76 Hypatia
" Don't laugh at her for that, the darling ! I do
delight in her, after all. It warms even my old
blood to see how thoroughly she knows her
business, and how she enjoys it, like a true
daughter of Eve."
" She has been your most successful pupil, cer-
tainly, mother. You may well be proud of her."
The old hag chuckled to herself a while; and
then suddenly turning to Raphael:
" See here ! I have a present for you ; " and she
pulled out a magnificent ring.
" Why, mother, you are always giving me pres-
ents. It was but a month ago you sent me this
poisoned dagger."
"Why not, eh? why not? Why should not
Jew give to Jew? Take the old woman's ring!"
" What a glorious opal ! "
"Ah, that is an opal, indeed ! And the un-
speakable name upon it; just like Solomon's own.
Take it, I say ! Whosoever wears that never need
fear fire, steel, poison, or woman's eye."
"Your own included, eh?"
" Take it, I say ! " and Miriam caught his hand,
and forced the ring on his finger. " There ! Now
you 're safe. And now call me mother again. I
like it. I don't know why, but I like it. And
Raphael Aben-Ezra don't laugh at me, and call
me witch and hag, as you often do. I don't care
about it from any one else ; I 'm accustomed to it.
But when you do it, I always long to stab you.
That 's why I gave you the dagger. I used to wear
it; and I was afraid I might be tempted to use it
some day, when the thought came across me how
handsome you 'd look, and how quiet, when you
were dead, and your soul up there so happy in
Miriam 77
Abraham's bosom, watching all the Gentiles frying
and roasting for ever down below. Don't laugh at
me, I say; and don't thwart me! I may make
you the emperor's prime minister some day. I
can if I choose."
" Heaven forbid ! " said Raphael, laughing.
"Don't laugh. I cast your nativity last night,
and I know you have no cause to laugh. A great
danger hangs over you, and a deep temptation.
And if you weather this storm, you may be cham-
berlain, prime minister, emperor, if you will. And
you shall be by the four archangels, you shall ! "
And the old woman vanished down a by-lane,
leaving Raphael utterly bewildered.
" Moses and the prophets ! Does the old lady
intend to marry me? What can there be in this
very lazy and selfish personage who bears my
name, to excite so romantic an affection? Well,
Raphael Aben-Ezra, thou hast one more friend in
the world beside Bran the mastiff; and therefore
one more trouble seeing that friends always ex-
pect a due return of affection and good offices and
what not. I wonder whether the old lady has
been getting into a scrape kidnapping, and wants
my patronage to help her out of it. ... Three-
quarters of a mile of roasting sun between me and
home ! ... I must hire a gig, or a litter, or some-
thing, off the next stand . . . with a driver who has
been eating onions . . . and of course there is not a
stand for the next half-mile. Oh, divine aether ! as
Prometheus has it, and ye swift-winged breezes (I
wish there were any here), when will it all be over?
Three-and-thirty years have I endured already of
this Babel of knaves and fools; and with this
abominable good health of mine, which won't even
78 Hypatia
help me with gout or indigestion, I am likely to
have three-and-thirty years more of it. ... I know
nothing, and I care for nothing, and I expect
nothing ; and I actually can't take the trouble to
prick a hole in myself, and let the very small
amount of wits out, to see something really worth
seeing, and try its strength at something really
worth doing if, after all, the other side the grave
does not turn out to be just as stupid as this
one. . . . When will it be all over, and I in Abra-
ham's bosom or anyone else's, provided it be
not a woman's?"
CHAPTER V
A DAY IN ALEXANDRIA
IN the meanwhile, Philammon, with his hosts, the
Goths, had been slipping down the stream.
Passing, one after another, world-old cities now
dwindled to decaying towns, and numberless canal-
mouths, now fast falling into ruin with the fields to
which they insured fertility, under the pressure of
Roman extortion and misrule, they had entered
one evening the mouth of the great canal of
Alexandria, slid easily all night across the star-
bespangled shadows of Lake Mareotis, and found
themselves, when the next morning dawned, among
the countless masts and noisy quays of the greatest
seaport in the world. The motley crowd of for-
eigners, the hubbub of all dialects from the Crimea
to Cadiz, the vast pile of merchandise, and heaps
of wheat, lying unsheltered in that rainless air, the
huge bulk of the corn-ships lading for Rome,
whose tall sides rose story over story, like floating
palaces, above the buildings of some inner dock
these sights, and a hundred more, made the young
monk think that the world did not look at first
sight a thing to be despised. In front of heaps of
fruit, fresh from the market-boats, black groups of
glossy negro slaves were basking and laughing on
the quay, looking anxiously and coquettishly round
in hopes of a purchaser; they evidently did not
think the change from desert toil to city luxuries a
80 Hypatia
change for the worse. Philammon turned away
his eyes from beholding vanity ; but only to meet
fresh vanity wheresoever they fell. He felt crushed
by the multitude of new objects, stunned by the din
around ; and scarcely recollected himself enough
to seize the first opportunity of escaping from his
dangerous companions.
" Holloa ! " roared Smid the armorer, as he
scrambled on to the steps of the slip ; " you are
not going to run away without bidding us good-
bye?"
"Stop with me, boy!" said old Wulf. "I
saved you ; and you are my man."
Philammon turned and hesitated.
" I am a monk, and God's man."
" You can be that anywhere. I will make you a
warrior."
"The weapons of my warfare are not of flesh
and blood, but prayer and fasting," answered poor
Philammon, who felt already that he should have
ten times more need of the said weapons in Alex-
andria than ever he had had in the desert. . . .
" Let me go ! I am not made for your life ! I
thank you, bless you ! I will pray for you, sir !
but let me go ! "
" Curse the craven hound ! " roared half-a-dozen
voices. "Why did you not let us have our will
with him, Prince Wulf? You might have expected
such gratitude from a monk."
" He owes me my share of the sport," quoth
Smid. " And here it is ! " And a hatchet, thrown
with practised aim, whistled right for Philammon's
head he had just time to swerve, and the weapon
struck and snapped against the granite wall
behind.
A Day in Alexandria 81
"Well saved!" said Wulf, coolly, while the
sailors and market-women above yelled murder,
and the custom-house officers, and other con-
stables and catchpolls of the harbor, rushed to the
place and retired again quietly at the thunder of
the Amal from the boat's stern:
" Never mind, my good fellows ! we 're only
Goths ; and on a visit to the prefect, too."
" Only Goths, my donkey-riding friends ! " echoed
Smid, and at that ominous name the whole posse
comitatus tried to look unconcerned, aud found
suddenly that their presence was absolutely re-
quired in an opposite direction.
" Let him go," said Wulf, as he stalked up the
steps. " Let the boy go. I never set my heart on
any man yet," he growled to himself in an under
voice, "but what he disappointed me and I
must not expect more from this fellow. Come,
men, ashore, and get drunk ! "
Philammon, of course, now that he had leave to
go, longed to stay at all events, he must go
back and thank his hosts. He turned unwillingly
to do so, as hastily as he could, and found Pelagia
and her gigantic lover just entering a palanquin.
With downcast eyes he approached the beautiful
basilisk, and stammered out some common-
place ; and she, full of smiles, turned to him at
once.
" Tell us more about yourself before we part.
You speak such beautiful Greek true Athenian.
It is quite delightful to hear one's own accent
again. Were you ever at Athens?"
"When I was a child; I recollect that is, I
think "
"What?" asked Pelagia, eagerly.
8 2 Hypatia
" A great house in Athens and a great battle
there and coming to Egypt in a ship."
" Heavens ! " said Pelagia, and paused. . . ;
" How strange ! Girls, who said he was like me? "
" I 'm sure we meant no harm, if we did say it in
a joke," pouted one of the attendants.
" Like me ! you must come and see us. I
have something to say to you. . . . You must ! "
Philammon misinterpreted the intense interest of
her tone, and if he did not shrink back, gave some
involuntary gesture of reluctance. Pelagia laughed
aloud.
" Don't be vain enough to suspect, foolish boy,
but come ! Do you think that I have nothing to
talk about but nonsense ! Come and see me. It
may be better for you. I live in ," and she
named a fashionable street, which Philammon,
though he inwardly vowed not to accept the invi-
tation, somehow could not help remembering.
"Do leave the wild man, and come," growled
the Amal from within the palanquin. "You are
not going to turn nun, I hope ? "
" Not while the first man I ever met in the world
stays in it," answered Pelagia, as she skipped into
the palanquin, taking care to show the most lovely
white heel and ankle, and, like the Parthian, send
a random arrow as she retreated. But the dart
was lost on Philammon, who had been already
hustled away by the bevy of laughing attendants,
amid baskets, dressing-cases, and bird-cages, and
was fain to make his escape into the Babel round,
and inquire his way to the patriarch's house.
"Patriarch's house?" answered the man whom
he first addressed, a little lean, swarthy fellow, with
merry black eyes, who, with a basket of fruit at his
A Day in Alexandria 83
feet, was sunning himself on a baulk of timber,
meditatively chewing the papyrus-cane, and exam-
ining the strangers with a look of absurd sagacity.
" I know it ; without a doubt I know it ; all Alex-
andria has good reason to know it. Are you a
monk?"
"Yes."
" Then ask your way of the monks ; you won't
go far without rinding one."
" But I do not even know the right direction :
what is your grudge against monks, my good
man?"
" Look here, my youth ; you seem too ingen-
uous for a monk. Don't flatter yourself that it
will last. If you can wear the sheepskin, and
haunt the churches here for a month, without
learning to lie, and slander, and clap, and hoot, and
perhaps play your part in a sedition-and-murder
satyric drama why, you are a better man than I
take you for. I, sir, am a Greek, and a philoso-
pher ; though the whirlpool of matter may have,
and indeed has, involved my ethereal spark in the
body of a porter. Therefore, youth," continued
the little man, starting up upon his baulk like an
excited monkey, and stretching out one oratoric
paw, " I bear a treble hatred to the monkish tribe.
First, as a man and a husband ; . . . for as for the
smiles of beauty, or otherwise, such as I have, I
have; and the monks, if they had their wicked
will, would leave neither men nor women in the
world. Sir, they would exterminate the human
race in a single generation, by a voluntary suicide !
Secondly, as a porter; for if all men turned
monks, nobody would be idle, and the profession
of portering would be annihilated. Thirdly, sir, as
84 Hypatia
a philosopher; for as the false coin is odious to
the true, so is the irrational and animal asceticism
of the monk, to the logical and methodic self-
restraint of one who, like your humblest of
philosophers, aspires to a life according to the
pure reason."
"And pray," asked Philammon, half-laughing,
" who has been your tutor in philosophy? "
" The fountain of classic wisdom, Hypatia her-
self. As the ancient sage the name is unimpor-
tant to a monk pumped water nightly that he
might study by day, so I, the guardian of cloaks
and parasols at the sacred doors of her lecture-
room, imbibe celestial knowledge. From my
youth I felt in me a soul above the matter-
entangled herd. She revealed to me the glorious
fact, that I am a spark of Divinity itself. A fallen
star, I am, sir ! " continued he, pensively, stroking
his lean stomach "a fallen star ! fallen, if the
dignity of philosophy will allow of the simile,
among the hogs of the lower world indeed, even
into the hog-bucket itself. Well, after all, I will
show you the way to the archbishop's. There is
a philosophic pleasure in opening one's treasures
to the modest young. Perhaps you will assist me
by carrying this basket of fruit?" And the little
man jumped up, put his basket on Philammon's
head, and trotted off up a neighboring street.
Philammon followed, half contemptuous, half
wondering at what this philosophy might be,
which could feed the self-conceit of anything so
abject as his ragged little apish guide; but the
novel roar and whirl of the street, the perpetual
stream of busy faces, the line of curricles, palan-
quins, laden asses, camels, elephants, which met
A Day in Alexandria 85
and passed him, and squeezed him up steps and
into doorways, as they threaded their way through
the great Moon-gate into the ample street beyond,
drove everything from his mind but wondering
curiosity, and a vague, helpless dread of that great
living wilderness, more terrible than any dead wil-
derness of sand which he had left behind. Already
he longed for the repose, the silence of the Laura
for faces which knew him and smiled upon him ;
but it was too late to turn back now. His guide
held on for more than a mile up the great main
street, crossed in the center of the city, at right
angles, by one equally magnificent, at each end of
which, miles away, appeared, dim and distant over
the heads of the living stream of passengers, the
yellow sand-hills of the desert ; while at the end of
the vista in front of them gleamed the blue harbor,
through a network of countless masts.
At last they reached the quay at the opposite
end of the street ; and there burst on Philammon's
astonished eyes a vast semicircle of the blue sea,
ringed with palaces and towers. . . . He stopped
involuntarily; and his little guide stopped also,
and looked askance at the young monk, to watch
the effect which that grand panorama should pro-
duce on him.
" There ! Behold our works ! Us Greeks !
Us benighted heathens ! Look at it and feel your-
self what you are, a very small, conceited, ignorant
young person, who fancies that your new religion
gives you a right to despise every one else. Did
Christians make all this? Did Christians build
that Pharos there on the left horn wonder of the
world? Did Christians raise that mile-long mole
which runs towards the land, with its two draw-
86 Hypatia
bridges, connecting the two ports ? Did Christians
build this esplanade, or this gate of the Sun above
our heads? Or that Caesareum on our right here?
Look at those obelisks before it ! " And he
pointed upwards to those two world-famous ones,
one of which still lies on its ancient site, as Cleo-
patra's Needle. " Look up ! look up, I say, and
feel small very small indeed ! Did Christians
raise them, or engrave them from base to point
with the wisdom of the ancients ? Did Christians
build that Museum next to it, or design its statues
and its frescoes now, alas ! re-echoing no more
to the hummings of the Attic bee? Did they pile
up out of the waves that palace beyond it, or that
Exchange, or fill that Temple of Neptune with
breathing brass and blushing marble? Did they
build that Timonium on the point, where Antony,
worsted at Actium, forgot his shame in Cleopatra's
arms? Did they quarry out that island ofAntir-
rhodus into a nest of docks, or cover those waters
with the sails of every nation under heaven?
Speak ! Thou son of bats and moles thou six
feet of sand thou mummy out of the cliff
caverns ! Can monks do works like these?"
" Other men have labored, and we have entered
into their labors," answered Philammon, trying to
seem as unconcerned as he could. He was, in-
deed, too utterly astonished to be angry at any-
thing. The overwhelming vastness, multiplicity,
and magnificence of the whole scene ; the range of
buildings, such as mother earth never, perhaps,
carried on her lap before or since, the extraor-
dinary variety of form the pure Doric and Ionic
of the earlier Ptolemies, the barbaric and confused
gorgeousness of the later Roman, and here and
A Day in Alexandria 87
there an imitation of the grand elephantine style of
old Egypt, its gaudy colors relieving, while they
deepened, the effect of its massive and simple out-
lines ; the eternal repose of that great belt of stone
contrasting with the restless ripple of the glittering
harbor, and the busy sails which crowded out into
the sea beyond, like white doves taking their flight
into boundless space all dazzled, overpowered,
saddened him. . . . This was the world. . . . Was it
not beautiful ? . . . . Must not the men who made
all this have been if not great . . . yet ... he
knew not what ? Surely they had great souls and
noble thoughts in them ! Surely there was some-
thing god-like in being able to create such things 1
Not for themselves alone, too ; but for a nation
for generations yet unborn. . . . And there was the
sea ... and beyond it, nations of men innumer-
able. . . . His imagination was dizzy with thinking
of them. . . . Were they all doomed lost? . . .
Had God no love for them?
At last, recovering himself, he recollected his
errand, and again asked his way to the arch-
bishop's house.
" This way, O youthful nonentity ! " answered
the little man, leading the way round the great
front of the Caesareum, at the foot of the obelisks.
Philammon's eye fell on some new masonry in
the pediment, ornamented with Christian symbols.
" How ? Is this a church ? "
" It is the Caesareum. It has become tempo-
rarily a church. The immortal gods have, for the
time being, condescended to waive their rights;
but it is the Caesareum, nevertheless. This way;
down this street to the right. There," said he,
pointing to a doorway in the side of the Museum,
88 Hypatia
"is the last haunt of the Muses the lecture-room
of Hypatia, the school of my unworthiness. . . .
And here," stopping at the door of a splendid
house on the opposite side of the street, " is the
residence of that blest favorite of Athene Neith,
as the barbarians of Egypt would denominate the
goddess we men of Macedonia retain the time-
honored Grecian nomenclature. . . . You may put
down your basket." And he knocked at the door,
and delivering the fruit to a black porter, made a
polite obeisance to Philammon, and seemed on the
point of taking his departure.
" But where is the archbishop's house? "
" Close to the Serapeium. You cannot miss
the place : four hundred columns of marble, now
ruined by Christian persecutors, stand on an
eminence "
" But how far off ? "
"About three miles; near the gate of the
Moon."
" Why, was not that the gate by which we
entered the city on the other side ? "
"Exactly so; you will know your way back,
having already traversed it"
Philammon checked a decidedly carnal inclina-
tion to seize the little fellow by the throat, and
knock his head against the wall, and contented
himself by saying :
" Then do you actually mean to say, you heathen
villain, that you have taken me six or seven miles
out of my road ? "
" Good words, young man. If you do me harm,
I call for help ; we are close to the Jews' quarter,
and there are some thousands there who will swarm
out like wasps on the chance of beating a monk to
A Day in Alexandria 89
death. Yet that which I have done, I have done
with a good purpose. First, politically, or accord-
ing to practical wisdom in order that you, not
I, might carry the basket. Next, philosophically,
or according to the intuitions of the pure reason
in order that you might, by beholding the magnifi-
cence of that great civilization which your fellows
wish to destroy, learn that you are an ass, and a
tortoise, and a nonentity, and so beholding your-
self to be nothing, may be moved to become
something."
And he moved off.
Philammon seized him by the collar of his
ragged tunic, and held him in a grip from which
the little man, though he twisted like an eel, could
not escape.
" Peaceably, if you will ; if not, by main force.
You shall go back with me, and show me every
step of the way. It is a just penalty."
" The philosopher conquers circumstances by
submitting to them. I go peaceably. Indeed, the
base necessities of the hog-bucket side of existence
compel me of themselves back to the Moon-gate,
for another early fruit job."
So they went back together.
Now why Philammon's thoughts should have
been running on the next new specimen of woman-
kind to whom he had been introduced, though
only in name, let psychologists tell, but certainly,
after he had walked some half-mile in silence, he
suddenly woke up, as out of many meditations, and
asked :
" But who is this Hypatia, of whom you talk so
much?"
" Who is Hypatia, rustic ? The queen of Alex -
90 Hypatia
andria! In wit, Athene; Hera in majesty; in
beauty, Aphrodite ! "
"And who are they?" asked Philammon.
The porter stopped, surveyed him slowly from
foot to head with an expression of boundless pity
and contempt, and was in the act of walking off in
the ecstasy of his disdain, when he was brought to
suddenly by Philammon's strong arm.
" Ah ! I recollect. There is a compact. . . .
Who is Athene? The goddess, giver of wisdom.
Hera, spouse of Zeus, queen of the Celestials.
Aphrodite, mother of love. . . . You are not ex-
pected to understand."
Philammon did understand, however, so much as
this, that Hypatia was a very unique and wonder-
ful person in the mind of his little guide; and
therefore asked the only further question by
which he could as yet test any Alexandrian
phenomenon :
"And is she a friend of the patriarch? "
The porter opened his eyes very wide, put his
middle finger in a careful and complicated fashion
between his fore and third finger, and extending it
playfully towards Philammon, performed therewith
certain mysterious signals, the effect whereof being
totally lost on him, the little man stopped, took
another look at Philammon's stately figure, and
answered :
" Of the human race in general, my young
friend. The philosopher must rise above the in-
dividual, to the contemplation of the universal. . . .
Aha ! Here is something worth seeing, and the
gates are open." And he stopped at the portal of
a vast building.
" Is this the patriarch's house? "
A Day in Alexandria 91
"The patriarch's tastes are more plebeian. He
lives, they say, in two dirty little rooms knowing
what is fit for him. The patriarch's house? Its
antipodes, my young friend that is, if such
beings have a cosmic existence, on which point
Hypatia has her doubts. This is the temple of art
and beauty ; the Delphic tripod of poetic inspira-
tion; the solace of the earthworn drudge; in a
word, the theatre; which your patriarch, if he
could, would convert to-morrow into a but the
philosopher must not revile. Ah ! I see the pre-
fect's apparitors at the gate. He is making the
polity, as we call it here ; the dispositions ; settling,
in short, the bill of fare for the day, in compliance
with the public palate. A facetious pantomime
dances here on this day every week admired by
some, the Jews especially. To the more classic
taste, many of his movements his recoil, espe-
cially are wanting in the true antique severity
might be called, perhaps, on the whole, indecent.
Still the weary pilgrim must be amused. Let us
step in and hear."
But before Philammon could refuse, an uproar
arose within, a rush outward of the mob, and in-
ward of the prefect's apparitors.
" It is false ! " shouted many voices. " A Jewish
calumny ! The man is innocent ! "
" There is no more sedition in him than there is
in me," roared a fat butcher, who looked as ready
to fell a man as an ox. " He was always the first
and the last to clap the holy patriarch at sermon."
" Dear tender soul," whimpered a woman ; " and
I said to him only this morning, why don't you
flog my boys, Master Hierax? how can you expect
them to learn if they are not flogged? And he
92 Hypatia
said, he never could abide the sight ol a rod, it
made his back tingle so."
" Which was plainly a prophecy ! "
" And proves him innocent ; for how could he
prophesy if he was not one of the holy ones ? "
" Monks, to the rescue ! Hierax, a Christian, is
taken and tortured in the theatre ! " thundered a
wild hermit, his beard and hair streaming about his
chest and shoulders.
" Nitria ! Nitria ! For God and the mother of
God, monks of Nitria ! Down with the Jewish
slanderers ! Down with heathen tyrants ! " And
the mob, reinforced as if by magic by hundreds
from without, swept down the huge vaulted pass-
age, carrying Philammon and the porter with
them.
" My friends," quoth the little man, trying to
look philosophically calm, though he was fairly off
his legs, and hanging between heaven and earth
on the elbows of the bystanders, " whence this
tumult?"
" The Jews got up a cry that Hierax wanted
to raise a riot. Curse them and their sabbath,
they are always rioting on Saturdays about this
dancer of theirs, instead of working like honest
Christians ! "
" And rioting on Sunday instead. Ahem ! sec-
tarian differences, which the philosopher "
The rest of the sentence disappeared with the
speaker, as a sudden opening of the mob let him
drop, and buried him under innumerable legs.
Philammon, furious at the notion of persecution,
maddened by the cries around him, found himself
bursting fiercely through the crowd, till he reached
the front ranks, where tall gates of open ironwork
A Day in Alexandria 93
barred all further progress, but left a full view of
the tragedy which was enacting within, where the
poor innocent wretch, suspended from a gibbet,
writhed and shrieked at every stroke of the hide
whips of his tormentors.
In vain Philammon and the monks around him
knocked and beat at the gates ; they were only an-
swered by laughter and taunts from the apparitors
within, curses on the turbulent mob of Alexandria,
with its patriarch, clergy, saints, and churches, and
promises to each and all outside, that their turn
would come next; while the piteous screams grew
fainter and more faint, and at last, with a convul-
sive shudder, motion and suffering ceased for ever
in the poor mangled body.
" They have killed him ! Martyred him ! Back
to the archbishop ! To the patriarch's house : he
will avenge us ! " And as the horrible news, and
the watchword which followed it, passed outwards
through the crowd, they wheeled round as one
man, and poured through street after street to-
wards Cyril's house; while Philammon, beside
himself with horror, rage, and pity, hurried onward
with them.
A tumultuous hour, or more, was passed in the
street, before he could gain entrance ; and then he
was swept, along with the mob in which he had
been fast wedged, through a dark low passage, and
landed breathless in a quadrangle of mean and new
buildings, overhung by the four hundred stately
columns of the ruined Serapeium. The grass was
already growing on the ruined capitals and archi-
traves. . . . Little did even its destroyers dream
then, that the day would come when one only of
that four hundred would be left, as " Pompey's
94 Hypatia
Pillar," to show what the men of old could think
and do.
Philammon at last escaped from the crowd, and
putting the letter which he had carried in his
bosom into the hands of one of the priests who was
mixing with the mob, was beckoned by him into a
corridor, and up a flight of stairs, and into a large,
low, mean room, and there, by virtue of the world-
wide freemasonry which Christianity had, for the
first time on earth, established, found himself in
five minutes awaiting the summons of the most
powerful man south of the Mediterranean.
A curtain hung across the door of the inner
chamber, through which Philammon could hear
plainly the steps of some one walking up and
down hurriedly and fiercely.
" They will drive me to it ! " at last burst out a
deep sonorous voice. "They will drive me to
it. ... Their blood be on their own head ! It is
not enough for them to blaspheme God and His
church, to have the monopoly of all the cheating,
fortune-telling, usury, sorcery, and coining of the
city, but they must deliver my clergy into the
hands of the tyrant?"
" It was so even in the apostles' time," suggested
a softer, but far more unpleasant voice.
" Then it shall be so no longer ! God has given
me the power to stop them; and God do so to
me, and more also, if I do not use that power.
To-morrow I sweep out this Augean stable of
villany, and leave not a Jew to blaspheme and
cheat in Alexandria."
" I am afraid such a judgment, however righteous,
might offend his excellency."
" His excellency ! His tyranny ! Why does
A Day in Alexandria 95
Orestes truckle to these circumcised, but because
they lend money to him and to his creatures ? He
would keep up a den of fiends in Alexandria if
they would do as much for him ! And then to
play them off against me and mine, to bring reli-
gion into contempt by setting the mob together by
the ears, and to end with outrages like this ! Sedi-
tious ! Have they not cause enough? The sooner
I remove one of their temptations, the better : let
the other tempter beware, lest his judgment be at
hand ! "
" The prefect, your holiness?" asked the other
voice, slily.
"Who spoke of the prefect? Whosoever is a
tyrant, and a murderer, and an oppressor of the
poor, and a favorer of the philosophy which de-
spises and enslaves the poor, should not he perish,
though he be seven times a prefect ! "
At this juncture Philammon, thinking perhaps
that he had already heard too much, notified his
presence by some slight noise, at which the secre-
tary, as he seemed to be, hastily lifted the curtain,
and somewhat sharply demanded his business.
The names of Pambo and Arsenius, however,
seemed to pacify him at once ; and the trembling
youth was ushered into the presence of him who in
reality, though not in name, sat on the throne of
the Pharaohs.
Not, indeed, in their outward pomp ; the furni-
ture of the chamber was but a grade above that of
the artisan's; the dress of the great man was
coarse and simple ; if personal vanity peeped out
anywhere, it was in the careful arrangement of the
bushy beard, and of the few curling locks which
the tonsure had spared. But the height and
96 Hypatia
majesty of his figure, the stern and massive beauty
of his features, the flashing eye, curling lip, and
projecting brow all marked him as one born to
command. As the youth entered, Cyril stopped
short in his walk, and looking him through and
through, with a glance which burnt upon his
cheeks like fire, and made him all but wish the
kindly earth would open and hide him, took the
letters, read them, and then began :
" Philammon. A Greek. You are said to have
learned to obey. If so you have also learned to
rule. Your father-abbot has transferred you to my
tutelage. You are now to obey me."
"And I will."
" Well said. Go to that window, then, and leap
into the court."
Philammon walked to it, and opened it. The
pavement was fully twenty feet below; but his
business was to obey, and not take measurements.
There was a flower in a vase upon the sill. He
quietly removed it, and in an instant more would
have leapt for life or death, when Cyril's voice
thundered " Stop ! "
"The lad will pass, my Peter. I shall not be
afraid, now, for the secrets which he may have
overheard."
Peter smiled assent, looking all the while as if
he thought it a great pity that the young man had
not been allowed to put talebearing out of his own
power by breaking his, neck.
" You wish to see the world. Perhaps you have
seen something of it to-day."
" I saw the murder "
" Then you saw what you came hither to see ;
what the world is, and what justice and mercy it
A Day in Alexandria 97
can deal out. You would not dislike to see God's
reprisals to man's tyranny? ... Or to be a fellow-
worker with God therein, if I judge rightly by
your looks ? "
" I would avenge that man."
" Ah ! my poor simple schoolmaster ! And his
fate is the portent of portents to you now ! Stay
awhile, till you have gone with Ezekiel into the
inner chambers of the devil's temple, and you will
see worse things than these women weeping for
Thammuz; bemoaning the decay of an idolatry
which they themselves disbelieve That, too, is
on the list of Hercules' labor, Peter mine."
At this moment a deacon entered. ..." Your
holiness, the rabbis of the accursed nation are
below, at your summons. We brought them in
through the back gate, for fear of "
" Right, right. An accident to them might have
ruined us. I shall not forget you. Bring them
up. Peter, take this youth, introduce him to the
parabolani. . . . Who will be the best man for him
to work under?"
" The brother Theopompus is especially sober
and gentle."
Cyril shook his head laughingly. ..." Go into
the next room, my son. . . . No, Peter, put him
under some fiery saint, some true Boanerges, who
will talk him down, and work him to death, and
show him the best and worst of everything. Cleit-
ophon will be the man. Now then, let me see my
engagements ; five minutes for these Jews Orestes
did not choose to frighten them : let us see whether
Cyril cannot ; then an hour to look over the hos-
pital accounts; an hour for the schools; a half-
hour for the reserved cases of distress ; and an-
F Vol. VI
98 Hypatia
other half-hour for myself; and then divine service.
See that the boy is there. Do bring in every one
in their turn, Peter mine. So much time goes in
hunting for this man and that man . . . and life is
too short for all that. Where are these Jews ? "
and Cyril plunged into the latter half of his day's
work with that untiring energy, self-sacrifice and
method, which commanded for him, in spite of all
suspicions of his violence, ambition, and intrigue,
the loving awe and implicit obedience of several
hundred thousand human beings.
So Philammon went out with the parabolani, a
sort of organized guild of district visitors. . . . And
in their company he saw that afternoon the dark
side of that world, whereof the harbor-panorama
had been the bright one. In squalid misery, filth,
profligacy, ignorance, ferocity, discontent, neglected
in body, house, and soul, by the civil authorities,
proving their existence only in aimless and san-
guinary riots, there they starved and rotted, heap
on heap, the masses of the old Greek population,
close to the great food-exporting harbor of the
world. Among these, fiercely perhaps, and fana-
tically, but still among them and for them, labored
those district visitors night and day. And so
Philammon toiled away with them, carrying food
and clothing, helping sick to the hospital, anjd
dead to the burial : cleaning out the infected
houses for the fever was all but perennial in
those quarters and comforting the dying with
the good news of forgiveness from above ; till the
larger number had to return to evening service.
He, however, was kept by his superior, watching
at a sick-bedside, and it was late at night before he
got home, and was reported to Peter the Reader
A Day in Alexandria 99
as having acquitted himself like " a man of God,"
as, indeed, without the least thought of doing any-
thing noble or self-sacrificing, he had truly done,
being a monk. And so he threw himself on a
truckle bed, in one of the many cells which opened
off a long corridor, and fell fast asleep in a
minute.
He was just weltering about in a dreary dream-
jumble of Goths dancing with district visitors,
Pelagia as an angel, with peacock's wfngs ; Hypatia
with horns and cloven feet, riding three hippo-
potami at once round the theatre ; Cyril standing
at an open window, cursing frightfully, and pelting
him with flower-pots ; and a similar self-sown after-
crop of his day's impression ; when he -was awak-
ened by the tramp of hurried feet in the street
outside, and shouts, which gradually, as he became
conscious, shaped themselves into cries of " Alex-
ander's Church is on fire ! Help, good Christians !
Fire ! Help ! "
Whereat he sat up in his truckle-bed, tried to
recollect where he was, and having with some
trouble succeeded, threw on his sheepskin, and
jumped up to ask the news from the deacons and
monks who were hurrying along the corridor out-
side. " Yes, Alexander's church was on fire ; "
and down the stairs they poured, across the court-
yard, and out into the street, Peter's tall figure
serving as a standard and a rallying point.
As they rushed out through the gateway, Phil-
ammon, dazzled by the sudden transition from the
darkness within to the blaze of moon and starlight
which flooded the street, and walls, and shining
roofs, hung back a moment. That hesitation
probably saved his life ; for in an instant he saw a
i oo Hypatia
dark figure spring out of the shadow, a long knife
flashed across his eyes, and a priest next to him
sank upon the pavement with a groan, while the
assassin dashed off down the street, hotly pursued
by monks and parabolani.
Philammon, who ran like a desert ostrich, had
soon outstripped all but Peter, when several more
dark figures sprang out of doorways and corners,
and joined, or seemed to join, the pursuit. Sud-
denly, however, after running a hundred yards,
they drew up opposite the mouth of a side street;
the assassin stopped also. Peter, suspecting some-
thing wrong, slackened his pace, and caught Phil-
ammon's arm.
"Do you see those fellows in the shadow?"
But, before Philammon could answer, some
thirty or forty men, their daggers gleaming in the
moonlight, moved out into the middle of the
street, and received the fugitives into their ranks.
What was the meaning of it? Here was a pleasant
taste of the ways of the most Christian and civilized
city of the Empire !
" Well," thought Philammon, " I have come out
to see the world, and I seem, at this rate, to be
likely to see enough of it."
Peter turned at once, and fled as quickly as he
had pursued; while Philammon, considering dis-
cretion the better part of valor, followed, and they
rejoined their party breathless.
"There is an armed mob at the end of the
street."
" Assassins ! " " Jews ! " "A conspiracy ! " Up
rose a Babel of doubtful voices. The foe appeared
in sight, advancing stealthily, and the whole party
took to flight, led once more by Peter, who seemed
A Day in Alexandria 101
determined to make free use, in behalf of his own
safety, of the long legs which nature had given
him.
Philammon followed, sulkily and unwillingly, at
a foot's pace ; but he had not gone a dozen yards
when a pitiable voice at his feet called to him :
" Help ! mercy ! Do not leave me here to be
murdered ! I am a Christian ; indeed I am a
Christian ! "
Philammon stooped, and lifted from the ground
a comely negro-woman, weeping, and shivering in
a few tattered remnants of clothing.
" I ran out when they said the church was on
fire," sobbed the poor creature, " and the Jews
beat and wounded me. They tore my shawl and
tunic off me before I could get away from them ;
and then our own people ran over me and trod me
down. And now my husband will beat me, if I
ever get home. Quick 1 up this side street, or we
shall be murdered ! "
The armed men, whosoever they were, were
close on them. There was no time to be lost ; and
Philammon, assuring her that he would not desert
her, hurried her up the side street which she
pointed out. But the pursuers had caught sight of
them, and while the mass held on up the main
street, three or four turned aside and gave chase.
The poor negress could only limp along, and
Philammon, unarmed, looked back, and saw the
bright steel points gleaming in the moonlight, and
made up his mind to die as a monk should.
Nevertheless, youth is hopeful. One chance for
life. He thrust the negress into a dark doorway,
where her color hid her well enough, and had just
time to ensconce himself behind a pillar, when the
102 Hypatia
foremost pursuer reached him. He held his
breath in fearful suspense. Should he be seen?
He would not die without a struggle at least. No !
the fellow ran on, panting. But in a minute more,
another came up, saw him suddenly, and sprang
aside startled. That start saved Philammon.
Quick as a cat, he leapt upon him, felled him to
the earth with a single blow, tore the dagger from
his hand, and sprang to his feet again just in time
to strike his new weapon full into the third pur-
suer's face. The man put his hand to his head,
and recoiled against a fellow-ruffian, who was close
on his heels. Philammon, flushed with victory,
took advantage of the confusion, and before the
worthy pair could recover, dealt them half-a-
dozen blows which, luckily for them, came from an
unpractised hand, or the young monk might have
had more than one life to answer for. As it was,
they turned and limped off, cursing in an unknown
tongue ; and Philammon found himself triumphant
and alone, with the trembling negress and the
prostrate ruffian, who, stunned by the blow and
the fall, lay groaning on the pavement.
It was all over in a minute. . . . The negress was
kneeling under the gateway, pouring out her
simple thanks to Heaven for this unexpected
deliverance; and Philammon was about to kneel
too, when a thought struck him; and coolly
despoiling the Jew of his shawl and sash, he handed
them over to the poor negress, considering them
fairly enough as his own by right of conquest ; but,
lo and behold ! as she was overwhelming him with
thanks, a fresh mob poured into the street from
the upper end, and were close on them before
they were aware. ... A flush of terror and despair,
A Day in Alexandria 103
, . . and then a burst of joy, as, by mingled moon-
light and torchlight, Philammon descried priestly
robes, and in the forefront of the battle there
being no apparent danger Peter the Reader,
who seemed to be anxious to prevent inquiry, by
beginning to talk as fast as possible.
"Ah, boy! Safe? The saints be praised ! We
gave you up for dead ! Whom have you here ?
A prisoner? And we have another. He ran right
into our arms up the street, and the Lord delivered
him into our hand. He must have passed you."
" So he did," said Philammon, dragging up
his captive, "and here is his fellow-scoundrel."
Whereon the two worthies were speedily tied to-
gether by the elbows ; and the party marched on
once more in search of Alexander's church, and
the supposed conflagration.
Philammon looked round for the negress, but
she had vanished. He was far too much ashamed
of being known to have been alone with a woman
to say anything about her. Yet he longed to see
her again; an interest even something like an
affection had already sprung up in his heart
toward the poor simple creature whom he had
delivered from death. Instead of thinking her
ungrateful for not staying to tell what he had done
for her, he was thankful to her for having saved his
blushes, by disappearing so opportunely. . . . And
he longed to tell her so to know if she was hurt
to Oh, Philammon ! only four days from
the Laura, and a whole regiment of women
acquaintances already ! True, Providence having
sent into the world about as many women as men,
it may be difficult to keep out of their way alto-
gether. Perhaps, too, Providence may have in-
1 04 Hypatia
tended them to be of some use to that other sex,
with whom it has so mixed them up. Don't argue,
poor Philammon ; Alexander's church is on fire !
forward !
And so they hurried on, a confused mass of
monks and populace, with their hapless prisoners
in the center, who hauled, cuffed, questioned, and
cursed by twenty self -elected inquisitors at once,
thought fit, either from Jewish obstinacy, or sheer
bewilderment, to give no account whatsoever of
themselves.
As they turned the corner of a street, the folding-
doors of a large gateway rolled open ; a long lane
of glittering figures poured across the road,
dropped their spear-butts on the pavement with a
single rattle, and remained motionless. The front
rank of the mob recoiled ; and an awe-struck whis-
per ran through them. . . . "The Stationaries ! "
"Who are they?" asked Philammon, in a
whisper.
"The soldiers the Roman soldiers," answered
a whisperer to him.
Philammon, who was among the leaders, had
recoiled too he hardly knew why at that stern
apparition. His next instinct was to press forward
as close as he dared. . . . And these were Roman
soldiers ! the conquerors of the world ! the
men whose name had thrilled him from his child-
hood with vague awe and admiration, dimly heard
of up there in the lonely Laura. . . . Roman
soldiers ! And here he was face to face with them
at last!
His curiosity received a sudden check, however,
as he found his arm seized by an officer, as he
took him to be, from the gold ornaments on his
A Day in Alexandria 105
helmet and cuirass, who lifted his vine-stock
threateningly over the young monk's head, and
demanded :
"What's all this about? Why are you not
quietly in your beds, you Alexandrian rascals ? "
" Alexander's church is on fire," answered Phit-
ammon, thinking the shortest answer the wisest.
" So much the better."
" And the Jews are murdering the Christians."
" Fight it out, then. Turn in, men, it 's only a
riot."
And the steel-clad apparition suddenly flashed
round, and vanished, trampling and jingling, into
the dark jaws of the guardhouse-gate, while the
stream, its temporary barrier removed, rushed on
wilder than ever.
Philammon hurried on too with them, not with-
out a strange feeling of disappointment. " Only a
riot ! " Peter was chuckling to his brothers over
their cleverness in " having kept the prisoners in
the middle, and stopped the rascals' mouths till
they were past the guardhouse." "A fine thing
to boast of," thought Philammon, " in the face
of the men who make and unmake kings and
Caesars ! " " Only a riot ! " He, and the corps of
district visitors whom he fancied the most august
body on earth and Alexander's church, Chris-
tians murdered by Jews, persecution of the Catholic
faith, and all the rest of it, was simply, then, not
worth the notice of those forty men, alone and
secure in the sense of power and discipline,
among tens of thousands. . . . He hated them,
those soldiers. Was it because they were indiffer-
ent to the cause of which he was inclined to
think himself a not unimportant member, on the
1 06 Hypatia
strength of his late Samsonic defeat of Jewish
persecutors? At least, he obeyed the little por-
ter's advice, and " felt very small indeed."
And he felt smaller still, being young and alive
to ridicule, when, at some sudden ebb or flow,
wave or wavelet of the Babel sea, which weltered
up and down every street, a shrill female voice
informed them from an upper window, that Alex-
ander's church was not on fire at all ; that she had
gone to the top of the house, as they might have
gone, if they had not been fools, etc. etc.; and
that it " looked as safe and as ugly as ever ; "
wherewith a brickbat or two having been sent up
in answer, she shut the blinds, leaving them to halt,
inquire, discover gradually and piecemeal, after the
method of mobs, they had been following the
nature of mobs ; that no one had seen the church
on fire, or seen any one else who had seen the
the same, or even seen any light in the sky in any
quarter, or knew who raised the cry; or or
in short, Alexander's church was two miles off;
if it was on fire, it was either burnt down or saved
by this time ; if not, the night-air was, to say the
least, chilly: and, whether it was or not, there
were ambuscades of Jews Satan only knew how
strong in every street between them and it. ...
Might it not be better to secure their two prison-
ers, and then ask for further orders from the arch-
bishop? Wherewith, after the manner of mobs,
they melted off the way they came, by twos and
threes, till those of a contrary opinion began to find
themselves left alone, and having a strong dislike
to Jewish daggers, were fain to follow the stream.
With a panic or two, a cry of " The Jews are on
us 1 " and a general rush in every direction (in
A Day in Alexandria 107
which one or two, seeking shelter from the awful
nothing in neighboring houses, were handed over
to the watch as burglars, and sent to the quarries
accordingly), they reached the Serapeium, and
there found, of course, a counter mob collected
to inform them that they had been taken in that
Alexander's church had never been on fire at all
that the Jews had murdered a thousand Chris-
tians at least, though three dead bodies, includ-
ing the poor priest who lay in the house within,
were all of the thousand who had yet been seen
and that the whole Jews' quarter was marching
upon them. At which news it was considered
advisable to retreat into the archbishop's house
as quickly as possible, barricade the doors, and
prepare for a siege a work at which Philammon
performed prodigies, tearing woodwork from the
rooms, and stones from the parapets, before it
struck some of the more sober-minded that it was as
well to wait for some more decided demonstration
of attack, before incurring so heavy a carpenter's
bill of repairs.
At last the heavy tramp of footsteps was heard
coming down the street, and every window was
crowded in an instant with eager heads; while
Peter rushed downstairs to heat the large coppers,
having some experience in the defensive virtues of
boiling water. The bright moon glittered on a long
line of helmets and cuirasses. Thank Heaven ! it
was the soldiery.
" Are the Jews coming?" " Is the city quiet?"
"Why did not you prevent this villany?" "A
thousand citizens murdered while you have been
snoring ! " and a volley of similar ejaculations,
greeted the soldiers as they passed, and were an-
io8 Hypatia
swered by a cool: "To your perches, and sleep,
you noisy chickens, or we '11 set the coop on fire
about your ears."
A yell of defiance answered this polite speech,
and the soldiery, who knew perfectly well that the
unarmed ecclesiastics within were not to be trifled
with, and had no ambition to die by coping-stones
and hot water, went quietly on their way.
All danger was now past ; and the cackling rose
jubilant, louder than ever, and might have contin-
ued till daylight, had not a window in the court-
yard been suddenly thrown open, and the awful
voice of Cyril commanded silence.
" Every man sleep where he can. I shall want
you at daybreak. The superiors of the parabolani
are to come up to me with the two prisoners, and
the men who took them. "
In a few minutes Philammon found himself, with
some twenty others, in the great man's presence:
he was sitting at his desk, writing, quietly, small
notes on slips of paper.
" Here is the youth who helped me to pursue
the murderer, and having outrun me, was attacked
by the prisoners," said Peter. " My hands are
clean from blood, I thank the Lord ! "
" Three set on me with daggers," said Philammon,
apologetically, " and I was forced to take this one's
dagger away, and beat off the two others with it."
Cyril smiled, and shook his head.
" Thou art a brave boy ; but hast thou not read,
' If a man smite thee on one cheek, turn to him
the other'?"
" I could not run away, as Master Peter and the
rest did."
" So you ran away, eh? my worthy friend?"
A Day in Alexandria 109
*' Is it not written," asked Peter, in his blandest
tone, " ' If they persecute you in one city, flee
unto another ' ? "
Cyril smiled again. " And why could not you
run away, boy?"
Philammon blushed scarlet, but he dared not lie.
" There was a a poor black woman, wounded
and trodden down, and I dare not leave her, for
she told me she was a Christian."
" Right, my son, right. I shall remember this.
What was her name ? "
" I did not hear it. Stay, I think she said
Judith."
" Ah ! the wife of the porter who stands at the
lecture-room door, which God confound ! A de-
vout woman, full of good works, and sorely ill-
treated by her heathen husband. Peter, thou shalt
go to her to-morrow with the physician, and see if
she is in need of anything. Boy, thou hast done
well. Cyril never forgets. Now bring up those
Jews. Their Rabbis were with me two hours ago
promising peace : and this is the way they have
kept their promise. So be it. The wicked is
snared in his own wickedness."
The Jews were brought in, but kept a stubborn
silence.
" Your holiness perceives," said some one, " that
they have each of them rings of green palm-bark
on their right hand."
" A very dangerous sign ! An evident conspir-
acy ! " commented Peter.
" Ah ? What does that mean, you rascals ? An-
swer me, as you value your lives."
" You have no business with us : we are Jews,
and none of your people, " said one, sulkily.
no Hypatia
" None of my people? You have murdered my
people ! None of my people ? Every soul in
Alexandria is mine, if the kingdom of God means
anything; and you shall find it out. I shall not
argue with you, my good friends, any more than I
did with your Rabbis. Take these fellows away,
Peter, and lock them up in the fuel-cellar, and see
that they are guarded. If any man lets them go,
his life shall be for the life of them. "
And the two worthies were led out.
" Now, my brothers, here are your orders. You
will divide these notes among yourselves, and dis-
tribute them to trusty and godly catholics in your
districts. Wait one hour, till the city be quiet;
and then start, and raise the church. I must
have thirty thousand men by sunrise."
" What for, your holiness ? " asked a dozen
voice."
" Read your notes. Whosoever will fight to-
morrow under the banner of the Lord, shall have
free plunder of the Jews' quarter, outrage and
murder only forbidden. As I have said it, God
do so to me, and more also, if there be a Jew left
in Alexandria by to-morrow at noon. Go."
And the staff of orderlies filed out, thanking
Heaven that they had a leader so prompt and val-
iant, and spent the next hour over the hall fire,
eating millet cakes, drinking bad beer, likening
Cyril to Barak, Gideon, Samson, Jephtha, Judas
Maccabeus, and all the worthies of the Old Testa-
ment, and then started on their pacific errand.
Philammon was about to follow them, when
Cyril stopped him.
" Stay, my son ; you are young and rash, and
do not know the city. Lie down here and sleep
A Day in Alexandria in
in the anteroom. Three hours hence the sun rises,
and we go forth against the enemies of the Lord."
Philammon threw himself on the floor in a cor-
ner, and slumbered like a child, till he was awak-
ened in the gray dawn by one of the parabolani.
" Up, boy ! and see what we can do. Cyril goes
down greater than Barak the son of Abinoam, not
with ten, but with thirty thousand men at his
feet!"
" Ay, my brothers ! " said Cyril, as he passed
proudly out in full pontificals, with a gorgeous
retinue of priests and deacons : " the Catholic
Church has her organization, her unity, her com-
mon cause, her watchwords, such as the tyrants of
the earth, in their weakness and their divisions,
may envy and tremble at, but cannot imitate.
Could Orestes raise, in three hours, thirty thousand
men, who would die for him?"
" As we will for you ! " shouted many voices.
" Say for the kingdom of God. " And he passed
out.
And so ended Philammon's first day in Alex-
andria.
CHAPTER VI
THE NEW DIOGENES
ABOUT five o'clock the next morning, Raphael
Aben-Ezra was lying in bed, alternately
yawning over a manuscript of Philo Judaeus, pulling
the ears of his huge British mastiff, watching the
sparkle of the fountain in the court outside, won-
dering when that lazy boy would come to tell
him that the bath was warmed, and meditating,
half aloud. . . .
" Alas ! poor me ! Here I am, back again
just at the point from which I started ! . . . How
am I to get free from that heathen Siren ? Plagues
on her ! I shall end by falling in love with her.
... I don't know that I have not got a barb of
the blind boy in me already. I felt absurdly glad
the other day when that fool told me he dare not
accept her modest offer. Ha ! ha ! A delicious
joke it would have been to have seen Orestes bow-
ing down to stocks and stones, and Hypatia in-
stalled in the ruins of the Serapeium, as High
Priestess of the Abomination of Desolation ! . . .
And now . . . Well: I call all heaven and earth
to witness, that I have fought valiantly. I have
faced naughty little Eros like a man, rod in hand.
What could a poor human being do more than try
to marry her to some one else, in hopes of sicken-
ing himself of the whole matter? Well, every
moth has its candle, and every man his destiny.
The New Diogenes 1 1 3
But the daring of the little fool I What huge
imaginations she has ! She might be another
Zenobia, now, with Orestes as Odenatus, and
Raphael Aben-Ezra to play the part of Longinus
. . . and receive Longinus's salary of axe or
poison. She don't care for me; she would sacri-
fice me, or a thousand of me, the cold-blooded
fanatical archangel that she is, to water with our
blood the foundation of some new temple of cast
rags and broken dolls . . . Oh, Raphael Aben-
Ezra, what a fool you are ! . . . You know you
are going off as usual to her lecture, this very
morning ! "
At this crisis of his confessions the page entered,
and announced, not the bath, but Miriam.
The old woman, who, in virtue of her profes-
sion, had the private entry of all fashionable
chambers in Alexandria, came in hurriedly; and
instead of seating herself as usual, for a gossip,
remained standing, and motioned the boy out of
the room.
"Well, my sweet mother? Sit: Ah? I see!
You rascal, you have brought in no wine for the
lady. Don't you know her little ways yet ? "
" Eos has got it at the door, of course," answered
the boy, with a saucy air of offended virtue.
" Out with you, imp of Satan ! " cried Miriam.
" This is no time for winebibbing. Raphael Aben-
Ezra, why are you lying here ? Did you not re-
ceive a note last night?"
"A note? So I did, but I was too sleepy to
read it. There it lies. Boy, bring it here. . . .
What's this? A scrap out of Jeremiah? 'Arise,
and flee for thy life, for evil is determined against
the whole house of Israel ! ' Does this come
H4 Hypatia
from the chief rabbi ? I always took the venerable
father for a sober man. . . . Eh, Miriam?"
" Fool ! instead of laughing at the sacred words
of the prophets, get up and obey them. I sent
you the note."
" Why can't I obey them in bed ! Here I am,
reading hard at the Cabbala or Philo who is
stupider still and what more would you have ! "
The old woman, unable to restrain her impatience,
literally ran at him, gnashing her teeth, and, before
he was aware, dragged him out of bed upon the
floor, where he stood meekly wondering what
would come next.
" Many thanks, mother, for having saved me the
one daily torture of life getting out of bed by
one's own exertion."
" Raphael Aben-Ezra ! are you so besotted with
your philosophy and your heathenry, and your
laziness, and your contempt for God and man, that
you will see your nation given up for a prey, and
your wealth plundered by heathen dogs? I tell
you, Cyril has sworn that God shall do so to him,
and more also, if there be a Jew left in Alexandria
by to-morrow about this time."
" So much the better for the Jews, then, if they
are half as tired of this noisy Pandemonium as I
am. But how can I help it? Am I Queen Esther,
to go to Ahasuerus there in the prefect's palace,
and get him to hold out the golden sceptre to
me?"
" Fool ! if you had read that note last night, you
might have gone and saved us, and your name
would have been handed down for ever from
generation to generation as a second Mordecai."
" My dear mother, Ahasuerus would have been
The New Diogenes 115
either fast asleep, or far too drunk to listen to me.
Why did you not go yourself? "
" Do you suppose that I would not have gone if
I could ? Do you fancy me a sluggard like your-
self? At the risk of my life I have got hither in
time, if there be time to save you."
"Well : shall I dress? What can be done now?"
" Nothing ! The streets are blockaded by Cyril's
mob There ! do you hear the shouts and screams?
They are attacking the further part of the quarter
already."
" What ! are they murdering them ? " asked
Raphael, throwing on his pelisse. " Because, if it
has really come to a practical joke of that kind,
I shall have the greatest pleasure in employing
a counter-irritant. Here, boy! My sword and
dagger ! Quick ! "
" No, the hypocrites ! No blood is to be shed,
they say, if we make no resistance, and let them
pillage. Cyril and his monks are there, to prevent
outrage, and so forth. . . . The Angel of the Lord
scatter them ! "
The conversation was interruped by the rushing
in of the whole household, in an agony of terror ;
and Raphael, at last thoroughly roused, went to a
window which looked into the street. The thor-
oughfare was full of scolding women and screaming
children ; while men, old and young, looked on at
the plunder of their property with true Jewish
doggedness, too prudent to resist, but too manful
to complain; while furniture came flying out of
every window, and from door after door poured a
stream of rascality, carrying off money, jewels,
silks, and all the treasures which Jewish usury
had accumulated during many a generation. But
1 1 6 Hypatia
unmoved amid the roaring sea of plunderers and
plundered, stood, scattered up and down, Cyril's
spiritual police, enforcing, by a word, an obedience
which the Roman soldiers could only have com-
pelled by hard blows of the spear-butt. There
was to be no outrage, and no outrage there was;
and more than once some man in priestly robes
hurried through the crowd, leading by the hand,
tenderly enough, a lost child in search of its
parents.
Raphael stood watching silently, while Miriam,
who had followed him upstairs, paced the room in
an ecstasy of rage, calling vainly to him to speak
or act.
" Let me alone, mother, " he said, at last. " It
will be full ten minutes more before they pay me
a visit, and in the mean time what can one do
better than watch the progress of this, the little
Exodus?"
" Not like that first one ! Then we went forth
with cymbals and songs to the Red Sea triumph !
Then we borrowed, every woman of her neigh-
bor, jewels of silver, and jewels of gold, and
raiment. "
" And now we pay them back again ; ... it is
but fair, after all. We ought to have listened to
Jeremiah a thousand years ago, and never gone
back again, like fools, into a country to which we
were so deeply in debt. "
" Accursed land ! " cried Miriam. " In an evil
hour our forefathers disobeyed the prophet; and
now we reap the harvest of our sins! Our sons
have forgotten the faith of their forefathers for the
philosophy of the Gentiles, and fill their cham-
bers " (with a contemptuous look round) " with
The New Diogenes 1 1 7
heathern imagery; and our daughters are Look
there ! "
As she spoke, a beautiful girl rushed shrieking
out of an adjoining house, followed by some half-
drunk ruffian, who was clutching at the gold chains
and trinkets with which she was profusely be-
decked, after the fashion of Jewish women. The
rascal had just seized with one hand her streaming
black tresses, and with the other a heavy collar of
gold, which was wound round her throat, when a
priest, stepping up, laid a quiet hand upon his
shoulder. The fellow, too maddened to obey,
turned, and struck back the restraining arm . . .
and in an instant was felled to the earth by a
young monk. . . .
" Touchest thou the Lord's anointed, sacrilegious
wretch ? " cried the man of the desert, as the fellow
dropped on the pavement, with his booty in his
hand.
The monk tore the gold necklace from his grasp,
looked at it for a moment with childish wonder, as
a savage might at some incomprehensible product
of civilized industry, and then, spitting on it in con-
tempt, dashed it on the ground, and trampled it
into the mud.
" Follow the golden wedge of Achan, and the
silver of Iscariot, thou root of all evil ! " And he
rushed on, yelling, " Down with the circumcision !
Down with the blasphemers ! " while the poor
girl vanished among the crowd.
Raphael watched him with a quaint thoughtful
smile, while Miriam shrieked aloud at the destruc-
tion of the precious trumpery.
"The monk is right, mother. If those Chris-
tians go on upon that method, they must beat us.
1 1 8 Hypatia
It has been our ruin from the first, our fancy for
loading ourselves with the thick clay."
"What will you do?" cried Miriam, clutching
him by the arm.
" What will you do ? "
" I am safe. I have a boat waiting for me on
the canal at the garden gate, and in Alexandria I
stay; no Christian hound shall make old Miriam
move a foot against her will. My jewels are all
buried my girls are sold ; save what you can, and
come with me ! "
" My sweet mother, why so peculiarly solicitous
about my welfare, above that of all the sons of
Judah?"
" Because because No, I '11 tell you that
another time. But I loved your mother, and she
loved me. Come ! "
Raphael relapsed into silence for a few minutes,
and watched the tumult below.
" How those Christian priests keep their men in
order ! There is no use resisting destiny. They
are the strong men of the time, after all, and the
little Exodus must needs have its course. Miriam,
daughter of Jonathan "
" I am no man's daughter ! I have neither father
nor mother, husband nor Call me mother
again ! "
" Whatsoever I am to call you, there are jewels
enough in that closet to buy half Alexandria.
Take them. I am going. "
"With me?"
" Out into the wide world, my dear lady. I am
bored with riches. That young savage of a monk
understood them better than we Jews do. I shall
just make a virtue of necessity, and turn beggar. "
The New Diogenes 119
"Beggar?"
"Why not? Don't argue. These scoundrels
will make me one, whether I like or not ; so forth
I go. There will be few leave-takings. This brute
of a dog is the only friend I have on earth ; and I
love her, because she has the true old, dogged,
spiteful, cunning, obstinate Maccabee spirit in
her of which if we had a spark left in us just
now, there would be no little Exodus; eh, Bran,
my beauty ? "
" You can escape with me to the prefect's, and
save the mass of your wealth."
" Exactly what I don't want to do. I hate that
prefect as I hate a dead camel, or the vulture who
eats him. And to tell the truth, I am growing a
great deal too fond of that heathen woman
there "
" What? " shrieked the old woman" Hypatia?"
" If you choose. At all events, the easiest way
to cut the knot is to expatriate. I shall beg my
passage on board the first ship to Cyrene, and go
and study life in Italy with Heraclian's expedition.
Quick take the jewels, and breed fresh troubles
for yourself with them. I am going. My liberators
are battering the outer door already."
Miriam greedily tore out of the closet diamonds
and pearls, rubies and emeralds, and concealed
them among her ample robes : " Go ! go ! Es-
cape from her ! I will hide your jewels ! "
" Ay, hide them, as mother earth does all things,
in that all-embracing bosom. You will have
doubled them before we meet again, no doubt.
Farewell, mother ! "
" But not for ever, Raphael ! not for ever !
Promise me, in the name of the four archangels,
120 Hypatia
that if you are in trouble or danger, you will write
to me, at the house of Eudaimon."
" The little porter philosopher, who hangs about
Hypatia's lecture-room ? "
"The same, the same. He will give me your
letter, and I swear to you, I will cross the moun-
tains of Kaf, to deliver you ! I will pay you all
back. By Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob I swear!
May my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth,
if I do not account to you for the last penny ! "
"Don't commit yourself to rash promises, my
dear lady. If I am bored with poverty, I can
but borrow a few gold pieces of a rabbi, and turn
pedler. I really do not trust you to pay me back,
so I shall not be disappointed if you do not. Why
should I?"
" Because because Oh, God ! No never
mind ! You shall have all back. Spirit of Elias !
where is the black agate ? Why is it not among
these? The broken half of the black agate
talisman ! "
Raphael turned pale. " How did you know that
I have a black agate ? "
" How did I ? How did I not ? " cried she, clutch-
ing him by the arm. " Where is it? All depends
on that ! Fool ! " she went on, throwing him off
from her at arm's length, as a sudden suspicion
stung her " you have not given it to the heathen
woman ? "
" By the soul of my fathers, then, you mysterious
old witch, who seem to know everything, that is
exactly what I have done."
Miriam clapped her hands together wildly.
" Lost ! lost ! lost ! No ! I will have it, if I tear
it out of her heart ! I will be avenged of her
The New Diogenes 121
the strange woman who flatters with her words, to
whom the simple go in, and know not that the
dead are there, and that her guests are in the
depths of hell ! God do so to me, and more also,
if she and her sorceries be on earth a twelvemonth
hence ! "
" Silence, Jezebel ! Heathen or none, she is as
pure as the sunlight ! I only gave it her because
she fancied the talisman upon it."
" To enchant you with it, to your ruin ! "
" Brute of a slave-dealer ! you fancy every one
as base as the poor wretches whom you buy and
sell to shame, that you may make them as much
the children of hell, if that be possible, as your-
self! "
Miriam looked at him, her large black eyes widen-
ing and kindling. For an instant she felt for her
poniard and then burst into an agony of tears,
hid her face in her withered hands, and rushed
from the room, as a crash and shout below an-
nounced the bursting of the door.
"There she goes with my jewels. And here
come my guests, with the young monk at their
head. One rising when the other sets. A worthy
pair of Dioscuri ! Come, Bran ! . . . Boys ! Slaves !
Where are you ? Steal every one what he can lay
his hands on, and run for your lives through the
back gate."
The slaves had obeyed him already. He walked
smiling down stairs through utter solitude, and in
the front passage, met face to face the mob of
monks, costermongers and dock-workers, fish-
wives and beggars, who were thronging up the
narrow entry, and bursting into the doors right
and left ; and at their head, alas ! the young monk
G Vol. VI
122 Hypatia
who had just trampled the necklace into the mud
... no other, in fact, than Philammon.
" Welcome, my worthy guests ! Enter, I beseech
you, and fulfil, in your own peculiar way, the pre-
cepts which bid you not be over anxious for the
good things of this life. . . . For eating and drink-
ing, my kitchen and cellar are at your service. For
clothing, if any illustrious personage will do me the
honor to change his holy rags with me, here are
an Indian shawl-pelisse and a pair of silk trousers
at his service. Perhaps you will accommodate me,
my handsome young captain, choragus of this new
school of the prophets?"
Philammon, who was the person addressed, tried
to push by him contemptuously.
" Allow me, sir. I lead the way. This dagger
is poisoned, a scratch and you are dead. This
dog is of the true British breed ; if she seizes you,
red-hot iron will not loose her, till she hears the
bone crack. If any one will change clothes with
me, all I have is at your service. If not, the first
that stirs is a dead man."
There was no mistaking the quiet, high-bred
determination of the speaker. Had he raged and
blustered, Philammon could have met him on his
own ground : but there was an easy self-possessed
disdain about him, which utterly abashed the young
monk, and abashed, too, the whole crowd of rascals
at his heels.
" I '11 change clothes with you, you Jewish dog ! "
roared a dirty fellow out of the mob.
" I am your eternal debtor. Let us step into
this side room. Walk up stairs, my friends. Take
care there, sir ! That porcelain, whole, is worth
three thousand gold pieces ; broken, it is not worth
The New Diogenes 123
three pence. I leave it to your good sense to treat
it accordingly. Now then, my friend ! " And in
the midst of the raging vortex of plunderers, who
were snatching up everything which they could
carry away, and breaking everything which they
could not, he quietly divested himself of his finery,
and put on the ragged cotton tunic, and battered
straw hat, which the fellow handed over to him.
Philammon, who had had from the first no mind
to plunder, stood watching Raphael with dumb
wonder; and a shudder of regret, he knew not
why, passed through him, as he saw the mob tear-
ing down pictures, and dashing statues to the
ground. Heathen they were, doubtless ; but still,
the Nymphs and Venuses looked too lovely to be
so brutally destroyed. . . . There was something
almost humanly pitiful in their poor broken arms
and legs, as they lay about upon the pavement.
. . . He laughed at himself for the notion; but
he could not laugh it away.
Raphael seemed to think that he ought not to
laugh it away; for he pointed to the fragments,
and with a quaint look at the young monk
" Our nurses used to tell us,
" ' If you can't make it,
You ought not to break it.' "
" I had no nurse," said Philammon.
" Ah ! that accounts for this and other
things. Well," he went on, with the most provok-
ing good-nature, " you are in a fair road, my
handsome youth ; I wish you joy of your fellow-
workmen, and of your apprenticeship in the noble
art of monkery. Riot and pillage, shrieking women
and houseless children in your twentieth summer,
1 24 Hypatia
are the sure path to a saintship, such as Paul of
Tarsus, who, with all his eccentricities, was a gentle-
man, certainly never contemplated. I have heard
of Phoebus Apollo under many disguises, but this
is the first time I ever saw him in the wolf's hide."
" Or in the lion's," said Philammon, trying in his
shame to make a fine speech.
" Like the Ass in the Fable. Farewell ! Stand
out of the way, friends ! 'Ware teeth and poison ! "
And he disappeared among the crowd, who
made way respectfully enough for his dagger and
his brindled companion.
CHAPTER VII
THOSE BY WHOM OFFENCES COME
PHILAMMON'S heart smote him all that day,
whenever he thought of his morning's work.
Till then all Christians, monks above all, had been
infallible in his eyes : all Jews and heathens insane
and accursed. Moreover, meekness under insult,
fortitude in calamity, the contempt of worldly com-
fort, the worship of poverty as a noble estate,
were virtues which the Church Catholic boasted as
her peculiar heritage: on which side had the
balance of those qualities inclined that morning?
The figure of Raphael, stalking out ragged and
penniless into the wide world, haunted him, with
its quiet self-assured smile. And there haunted
him, too, another peculiarity in the man, which he
had never before remarked in any one but Arsenius
that ease and grace, that courtesy and self-
restraint, which made Raphael's rebukes rankle all
the more keenly, because he felt that the rebuker
was in some mysterious way superior to him,
and saw through him, and could have won him
over, or crushed him in argument, or in intrigue
or in anything, perhaps, except mere brute force.
Strange that Raphael, of all men, should in
those few moments have reminded him so much of
Arsenius ; and that the very same qualities which
gave a peculiar charm to the latter should give a
peculiar unloveliness to the former, and yet be,
1 26 Hypatia
without a doubt, the same. What was it? Was it
rank which gave it? Arsenius had been a great
man, he knew the companion of kings. And
Raphael seemed rich. He had heard the mob
crying out against the prefect for favoring him.
Was it then familiarity with the great ones of the
world which produced this manner and tone? It
was a real strength, whether in Arsenius or in
Raphael. He felt humbled before it envied it.
If it made Arsenius a more complete and more
captivating person, why should it not do the same
for him ? Why should not he, too, have his share
of it?
Bringing with it such thoughts as these, the time
ran on till noon, and the midday meal, and the
afternoon's work, to which Philammon looked for-
ward joyfully, as a refuge from his own thoughts.
He was sitting on his sheepskin upon a step,
basking, like a true son of the desert, in a blaze of
fiery sunshine, which made the black stonework
too hot to touch with the bare hand, watching the
swallows, as they threaded the columns of the
Serapeium, and thinking how often he had de-
lighted in their air-dance, as they turned and
hawked up and down the dear old glen at Scetis.
A crowd of citizens with causes, appeals, and
petitions, were passing in and out from the patri-
arch's audience-room. Peter and the archdeacon
were waiting in the shade close by, for the gather-
ing of the parabolani, and talking over the morn-
ing's work in an earnest whisper, in which the
names of Hypatia and Orestes were now and then
audible.
An old priest came up, and bowing reverently
enough to the archdeacon, requested the help of
Those by whom Offences Come 127
one of the parabolani. He had a sailor's family,
all fever-stricken, who must be removed to the
hospital at once.
The archdeacon looked at him, answered an off-
hafcid " Very well," and went on with his talk.
The priest, bowing lower than before, repre-
sented the immediate necessity for help.
" It is very odd," said Peter to the swallows in
the Serapeium, " that some people cannot obtain
influence enough in their own parishes to get the
simplest good works performed without torment-
ing his holiness the patriarch."
The old priest mumbled some sort of excuse,
and the archdeacon, without deigning a second
look at him, said : " Find him a man, brother
Peter. Anybody will do. What is that boy
Philammon doing there ? Let him go with
Master Hieracas."
Peter seemed not to receive the proposition
favorably, and whispered something to the arch-
deacon. . . .
" No. I can spare none of the rest. Importu-
nate persons must take their chance of being well
served. Come here are our brethren ; we will
all go together."
" The further together the better for the boy's
sake," grumbled Peter, loud enough for Philam-
mon perhaps for the old priest to overhear
him.
So Philammon went out with them, and as he
went questioned his companions meekly enough,
as to who Raphael was.
" A friend of Hypatia ! " that name, too,
haunted him ; and he began, as stealthily and in-
directly as he could, to obtain information about
128 Hypatia
her. There was no need for his caution ; for the
very mention of her name roused the whole party
into a fury of execration.
" May God confound her, siren, enchantress,
dealer in spells and sorceries ! She is the strange
woman of whom Solomon prophesied."
" It is my opinion," said another, " that she is
the forerunner of Antichrist."
" Perhaps the virgin of whom it is prophesied
that he will be born," suggested another.
" Not that, I '11 warrant her," said Peter, with a
savage sneer.
" And is Raphael Aben-Ezra her pupil in phil-
osophy?" asked Philammon.
" Her pupil in whatsoever she can find where-
with to delude men's souls," said the old priest.
11 The reality of philosophy has died long ago, but
the great ones find it still worth their while to wor-
ship its shadow."
" Some of them worship more than a shadow,
when they haunt her house," said Peter. " Do
you think Orestes goes thither only for phil-
osophy?"
" We must not judge harsh judgments," said the
old priest; " Synesius of Cyrene is a holy man,
and yet he loves Hypatia well."
"He a holy man? and keeps a wife! One
who had the insolence to tell the blessed Theophi-
lus himself that he would not be made bishop
unless he were allowed to remain with her; and
despised the gift of the Holy Ghost in comparison
of the carnal joys of wedlock, not knowing the
Scriptures, which saith that those who are in the
flesh cannot please God ! Well said Siricius of
Rome of such men : ' Can the Holy Spirit of
Those by whom Offences Come 129
God dwell in other than holy bodies? ' No wonder
that such a one as Synesius grovels at the feet of
Orestes' mistress ! "
"Then she is profligate? " asked Philammon.
" She must be. Has a heathen faith and grace?
And without faith and grace, are not all our right-
eousnesses as filthy rags ? What says Saint Paul ?
That God has given them over to a reprobate
mind, full of all injustice, uncleanness, covetous-
ness, maliciousness, you know the catalogue
why do you ask me ? "
" Alas ! and is she this ? "
"Alas! And why alas? How would the Gos-
pel be glorified if heathens were holier than
Christians? It ought to be so, therefore it is so.
If she seems to have virtues, they, being done
without the grace of Christ, are only bedizened
vices, cunning shams, the devil transformed into
an angel of light. And as for chastity, the flower
and crown of all virtues whosoever says that she,
being yet a heathen, has that, blasphemes the
Holy Spirit, whose peculiar and highest gift it is,
and is anathema maranatha for ever ! Amen ! "
And Peter, devoutly crossing himself, turned
angrily and contemptuously away from his young
companion.
Philammon was quite shrewd enough to see
that assertion was not identical with proof. But
Peter's argument of " it ought to be, therefore it
is," is one which saves a great deal of trouble . . .
and no doubt he had very good sources of infor-
mation. So Philammon walked on, sad, he knew
not why, at the new notion which he had formed
of Hypatia, as a sort of awful sorceress-Messalina,
whose den was foul with magic rites and ruined
130 Hypatia
souls of men. And yet if that was all she had to
teach, whence had her pupil Raphael learned that
fortitude of his? If philosophy had, as they said,
utterly died out, then what was Raphael ?
Just then, Peter and the rest turned up a side
street, and Philammon and Hieracas were left to
go on their joint errand together. They paced on
for some way in silence, up one street and down
another, till Philammon, for want of anything bet-
ter to say, asked where they were going.
"Where I choose, at all events. No, young
man ! If I, a priest, am to be insulted by arch-
deacons and readers, I won't be insulted by you."
" I assure you I meant no harm."
" Of course not ; you all learn the same trick,
and the young ones catch it of the old ones fast
enough. Words smoother than butter, yet very
swords."
" You do not mean to complain of the archdeacon
and his companions?" said Philammon, who of
course was boiling over with pugnacious respect
for the body to which he belonged.
No answer.
" Why, sir, are they not among the most holy
and devoted of men ? "
" Ah yes," said his companion, in a tone which
sounded very like " Ah no."
" You do not think so ? " asked Philammon,
bluntly.
" You are young, you are young. Wait a while
till you have seen as much as I have. A degenerate
age this, my son ; not like the good old times, when
men dare suffer and die for the faith. We are too
prosperous nowadays ; and fine ladies walk about
with Magdalens embroidered on their silks, and
Those by whom Offences Come 1 3 1
gospels hanging round their necks. When I was
young, they died for that with which they now
bedizen themselves."
" But I was speaking of the parabolani."
" Ah, there are a great many among them who
have not much business where they are. Don't say
I said so. But many a rich man puts his name on
the list of the guild just to get his exemption from
taxes, and leaves the work to poor men like you.
Rotten, rotten ! my son, and you will find it out.
The preachers, now people used to say I know
Abbot Isidore did that I had as good a gift for
expounding as any man in Pelusium ; but since I
came here, eleven years since, if you will believe it,
I have never been asked to preach in my own parish
church."
" You surely jest ! "
" True, as I am a christened man. I know why
I know why : they are afraid of Isidore's men
here. . . . Perhaps they may have caught the holy
man's trick of plain speaking and ears are dainty
in Alexandria. And there are some in these parts,
too, that have never forgiven him the part he took
about those three villains, Maro, Zosimus, and Mar-
tinian, and a certain letter that came of it ; or another
letter either, which we know of, about taking alms for
the church from the gains of robbers and usurers.
' Cyril never forgets.' So he says to every one
who does him a good turn. . . . And so he does
to every one who he fancies has done him a bad
one. So here am I slaving away, a subordinate
priest, while such fellows as Peter the Reader look
down on me as their slave. But it's always so.
There never was a bishop yet, except the blessed
Augustine would to Heaven I had taken my
132 Hypatia
abbot's advice, and gone to him at Hippo ! who
had not his flatterers and his tale-bearers, and
generally the archdeacon at the head of them,
ready to step into the bishop's place when he dies,
over the heads of hard-working parish priests.
But that is the way of the world. The sleekest
and the oiliest, and the noisiest ; the man who can
bring in most money to the charities, never mind
whence or how ; the man who will take most of the
bishop's work off his hands, and agree with him in
everything he wants, and save him, by spying and
eavesdropping, the trouble of using his own eyes ;
that is the man to succeed in Alexandria, or Con-
stantinople, or Rome itself. Look now ; there are
but seven deacons to this great city, and all its
priests; and they and the archdeacon are the
masters of it and us. They and that Peter manage
Cyril's work for him, and when Cyril makes the
archdeacon a bishop, he will make Peter arch-
deacon. . . . They have their reward, they have
their reward ; and so has Cyril, for that matter."
"How?"
" Why, don't say I said it. But what do I care ?
I have nothing to lose, I 'm sure. But they do say
that there are two ways of promotion in Alexan-
dria : one by deserving it, the other by paying for
it. That 'sail."
" Impossible ! "
"Oh, of course, quite impossible. But all I know
is just this, that when that fellow Martinian got
back again into Pelusium, after being turned out
by the late bishop for a rogue and hypocrite as he
was, and got the ear of this present bishop, and
was appointed his steward, and ordained priest
I'd as soon have ordained that street-dog and
Those by whom Offences Come 133
plundered him and brought him to disgrace for
I don't believe this bishop is a bad man, but those
who use rogues must expect to be called rogues
and ground the poor to the earth, and tyrannized
over the whole city so that no man's property, or
reputation, scarcely their lives, were safe; and
after all, had the impudence, when he was called
on for his accounts, to bring the church in as
owing him money ; I just know this, that he added
to all his other shamelessness this, that he offered
the patriarch a large sum of money to buy a bishop-
ric of him. . . . And what do you think the patri-
arch answered ? "
"Excommunicated the sacrilegious wretch, of
course ! "
" Sent him a letter to say that if he dared to do
such a thing again he should really be forced to
expose him ! So the fellow, taking courage,
brought his money himself the next time; and
all the world says that Cyril would have made
him a bishop after all, if Abbot Isidore had not
written to remonstrate."
" He could not have known the man's character,"
said poor Philammon, hunting for an excuse.
" The whole Delta was ringing with it. Isidore
had written to him again and again."
"Surely then his wish was to prevent scandal,
and preserve the unity of the church in the eyes
of the heathen."
The old man laughed bitterly.
" Ah, the old story of preventing scandals by
retaining them, and fancying that sin is a less evil
than a little noise ; as if the worst of all scandals
was not the being discovered in hushing up a scan-
dal. And as for unity, if you want that, you must
134 Hypatia
go back to the good old times of Diocletian and
Decius."
"The persecutors?"
"Ay, boy to the times of persecution, when
Christians died like brothers, because they lived
like brothers. You will see very little of that now,
except in some little remote county bishopric,
which no one ever hears of from year's end to
year's end. But in the cities it is all one great
fight for place and power. Every one is jealous
of his neighbor. The priests are jealous of the
deacons, and good cause they have. The county
bishops are jealous of the metropolitan, and he is
jealous of the North African bishops, and quite
right he is. What business have they to set up
for themselves, as if they were infallible? It's a
schism, I say a complete schism. They are just
as bad as their own Donatists. Did not the Coun-
cil of Nice settle that the Metropolitan of Alex-
andria should have authority over Libya and
Pentapolis, according to the ancient custom ? "
" Of course he ought, " said Philammon, jealous
for the honor of his own patriarchate.
" And the patriarchs of Rome and Constanti-
nople are jealous of our patriarch."
"Of Cyril?"
" Of course, because he won't be at their beck
and nod, and let them be lords and masters of
Africa."
"But surely these things can be settled by
councils?"
" Councils ? Wait till you have been at one. The
blessed Abbot Isidore used to say, that if he ever
was a bishop which he never will be he is far
too honest for that, he would never go near one
Those by whom Offences Come 135
of them ; for he never had seen one which did not
call out every evil passion in men's hearts, and leave
the question more confounded with words than they
found it, even if the whole matter was not settled
beforehand by some chamberlain, or eunuch, or
cook sent from court, as if he were an anointed
vessel of the Spirit, to settle the dogmas of the
Holy Catholic Church. "
"Cook?"
" Why, Valens sent his chief cook to stop Basil
of Caesarea from opposing the court doctrine. . . .
I tell you, the great battle in these cases is to get
votes from courts, or to get to court yourself.
When I was young, the Council of Antioch had
to make a law to keep bishops from running off to
Constantinople to intrigue, under pretence of plead-
ing the cause of the orphan and widow. But
what 's the use of that, when every noisy and ambi-
tious man shifts and shifts, from one see to another,
till he settles himself close to Rome or Byzantium,
and gets the emperor's ear, and plays into the hands
of his courtiers?"
" Is it not written, ' Speak not evil of dignities '?"
said Philammon, in his most sanctimonious tone.
" Well, what of that? I don't speak evil of dig-
nities, when I complain of the men who fill them
badly, do I?"
" I never heard that interpretation of the text
before."
"Very likely not. That's no reason why it
should not be true and orthodox. .You will soon
hear a good many more things, which are true
enough though whether they are orthodox or not,
the court cooks must settle. Of course, I am a dis-
appointed, irreverent old grumbler. Of course, and
136 Hypatia
of course, too, young men must needs buy their
own experience, instead of taking old folks' at a gift.
There use your own eyes, and judge for yourself.
There you may see what sort of saints are bred by
this plan of managing the Catholic Church. There
comes one of them. Now ! I say no more ! "
As he spoke, two tall negroes came up to them,
and set down before the steps of a large church
which they were passing, an object new to Philam-
mon a sedan-chair, the poles of which were inlaid
with ivory and silver, and the upper part enclosed
in rose-colored silk curtains.
" What is inside that cage ? " asked he of the old
priest, as the negroes stood wiping the perspiration
from their foreheads, and a smart slave-girl stepped
forward, with a parasol and slippers in her hand,
and reverently lifted the lower edge of the curtain.
" A saint, I tell you ! "
An embroidered shoe, with a large gold cross on
the instep, was put forth delicately from beneath
the curtain, and the kneeling maid put on the slip-
per over it.
" There ! " whispered the old grumbler. " Not
enough, you see, to use Christian men as beasts of
burden Abbot Isidore used to say ay, and told
Iron, the pleader, to his face, that he could not con-
ceive how a man who loved Christ, and knew the
grace which has made all men free, could keep a
slave. "
" Nor can I," said Philammon.
" But we think otherwise, you see, in Alexandria
here. We can't even walk up the steps of God's
temple without an additional protection to our deli-
cate feet. "
" I had thought it was written, ' Put off thy shoes
Those by whom Offences Come 137
from off thy feet, for the place where thou standest
is holy ground."
" Ah ! there are a good many more things
written which we do not find it convenient to
recollect. Look ! There is one of the pillars
of the church the richest and most pious lady
in Alexandria."
And forth stepped a figure, at which Philammon's
eyes opened wider than they had done even at the
sight of Pelagia. Whatever thoughts the rich and
careless grace of her attire might have raised in his
mind, it had certainly not given his innate Greek
good taste the inclination to laugh and weep at once,
which he felt at this specimen of the tasteless
fashion of an artificial and decaying civilization.
Her gown was stuffed out behind in a fashion which
provoked from the dirty boys who lay about the
steps, gambling for pistachios on their fingers,
the same comments with which Saint Clement had
upbraided from the pulpit the Alexandrian ladies
of his day. The said gown of white silk was be-
dizened, from waist to ankle, with certain mysterious
red and green figures at least a foot long, which
Philammon gradually discovered to be a represen-
tation, in the very lowest and ugliest style of fallen
art, of Dives and Lazarus; while down her back
hung, upon a bright blue shawl, edged with em-
broidered crosses, Job sitting, potsherd in hand,
surrounded by his three friends a memorial, the
old priest whispered, of a pilgrimage which she had
taken a year or two before, to Arabia, to see and
kiss the identical dunghill on which the patriarch
had sat.
Round her neck hung by one of half-a-dozen
necklaces, a manuscript of the Gospels, gilt-edged
138 Hypatia
and clasped with jewels ; the lofty diadem of pearls
on the head carried in front a large gold cross;
while above and around it her hair, stiffened
with pomatum, was frizzled out half a foot from a
wilderness of plaits and curls, which must have
cost some hapless slave-girl an hour's work,
and perhaps more than one scolding, that very
morning.
Meekly, with simpering face and downcast eyes,
and now and then a penitent sigh and shake of the
head and pressure of her hand on her jewelled
bosom, the fair penitent was proceeding up the
steps, when she caught sight of the priest and the
monk, and turning to them with an obeisance of
the deepest humility, entreated to be allowed to
kiss the hem of their garments.
" You had far better, madam," said Philammon,
bluntly enough, " kiss the hem of your own. You
carry two lessons there which you do not seem to
have learnt yet."
In an instant her face flashed up into pride and
fury. " I asked for your blessing, and not for a
sermon. I can have that when I like."
" And such as you like," grumbled the old priest,
as she swept up the steps, tossing some small coin
to the ragged boys, and murmuring to herself,
loud enough for Philammon's hearing, that she
should certainly inform the confessor, and that she
would not be insulted in the streets by savage
monks.
" Now she will confess her sins inside all but
those which she has been showing off to us here
outside, and beat her breast, and weep like a very
Magdalen ; and then the worthy man will comfort
her with : ' What a beautiful chain ! And what
Those by whom Offences Come 139
a shawl allow me to touch it! How soft and
delicate this Indian wool ! Ah ! if you knew the
debts which I have been compelled to incur in the
service of the sanctuary ! ' And then of
course the answer will be, as, indeed, he expects it
should, that if it can be of the least use in the
service of the Temple, she, of course, will think it
only too great an honor. . . . And he will keep the
chain, and perhaps the shawl, too. And she will
go home, believing that she has fulfilled to the
very letter the command to break off her sins by
almsgiving, and only sorry that the good priest
happened to hit on that particular gewgaw ! "
" What," asked Philammon ; " dare she actually
not refuse such importunity?"
" From a poor priest like me, stoutly enough;
but from a popular ecclesiastic like him. . . . As
Jerome says, in a letter of his I once saw, ladies
think twice in such cases before they offend the
city newsmonger. Have you anything more to
say?"
Philammon had nothing to say ; and wisely held
his peace, while the old grumbler ran on :
" Ah, boy, you have yet to learn city fashions !
When you are a little older, instead of speaking
unpleasant truths to a fine lady with a cross on
her forehead, you will be ready to run to the
Pillars of Hercules at her beck and nod, for the
sake of her disinterested help toward a fashionable
pulpit, or perhaps a bishopric. The ladies settle
that for us here."
" The women ? "
"The women, lad. Do you suppose that they
heap priests and churches with wealth for nothing?
They have their reward. Do you suppose that a
1 40 Hypatia
preacher gets mto the pulpit of that church there,
without looking anxiously, at the end of each
peculiarly flowery sentence, to see whether her
saintship there is clapping or not? She, who has
such a delicate sense for orthodoxy, that she
can scent out Novatianism or Origenism where
no other mortal nose would suspect it. She who
meets at her own house weekly all the richest and
most pious women of the city, to settle our disci-
pline for us, as the court cooks do our doctrine.
She who has even, it is whispered, the ear of the
Augusta Pulcheria herself, and sends monthly let-
ters to her at Constantinople, and might give the
patriarch himself some trouble, if he crossed her
holy will ! "
" What ! will Cyril truckle to such creatures ? "
" Cyril is a wise man in his generation too
wise, some say, for a child of the light. But at
least, he knows there is no use fighting with those
whom you cannot conquer ; and while he can get
money out of these great ladies for his almshouses,
and orphan-houses, and lodging-houses, and hos-
pitals, and work-shops, and all the rest of it and
in that, I will say for him, there is no man on earth
equal to him, but Ambrose of Milan and Basil of
Caesarea why, I don't quarrel with him for mak-
ing the best of a bad matter ; and a very bad mat-
ter it is, boy, and has been ever since emperors and
courtiers have given up burning and crucifying us,
and taken to patronizing and bribing us instead."
Philammon walked on in silence by the old
priest's side, stunned and sickened. ..." And
this is what I have come out to see reeds shaken
in the wind, and men clothed in soft raiment, fit
only for kings' palaces ! " For this he had left the
Those by whom Offences Come 141
dear old Laura, and the simple joys and friendships
of childhood, and cast himself into a roaring whirl-
pool of labor and temptation ! This was the har-
monious strength and unity of that Church Catholic,
in which, as he had been taught from boyhood,
there was but one Lord, one Faith, one Spirit.
This was the indivisible body, " without spot or
wrinkle, which fitly joined together and compacted
by that which every member supplied, according
to the effectual and proportionate working of every
part, increased the body, and enabled it to build
itself up in Love ! " He shuddered as the well-
known words passed through his memory, and
seemed to mock the base and chaotic reality around
him. He felt angry with the old man for having
broken his dream ; he longed to believe that his
complaints were only exaggerations of cynic pee-
vishness, of selfish disappointment : and yet, had
not Arsenius warned him? Had he not foretold,
word for word, what the youth would find what
he had found? Then was Saint Paul's great idea
an empty and an impossible dream? No! God's
word could not fail; the Church could not err.
The fault could not be in her, but in her enemies ;
not, as the old man said, in her too great prosper-
ity, but in her slavery. And then the words which
he had heard from Cyril at their first interview
rose before him as the true explanation. How
could the Church work freely and healthily while
she was crushed and fettered by the rulers of this
world ? And how could they be anything but the
tyrants and the antichrists they were, while they
were menaced and deluded by heathen philosophy,
and vain systems of human wisdom? If Orestes
was the curse of the Alexandrian Church, then
142 Hypatia
Hypatia was the curse of Orestes. On her head
the true blame lay. She was the root of the evil
Who would extirpate it? ...
Why should not he? It might be dangerous:
yet, successful or unsuccessful, it must be glorious.
The course of Christianity wanted great examples.
Might he not and his young heart beat high at
the thought might he not, by some great act of
daring, self-sacrifice, divine madness of faith, like
David's of old, when he went out against the giant
awaken selfish and luxurious souls to a noble
emulation, and recall to their minds, perhaps to their
lives, the patterns of those martyrs who were the
pride, the glory, the heirloom of Egypt? And as
figure after figure rose before his imagination, of
simple men and weak women who had conquered
temptation and shame, torture and death, to live
for ever on the lips of men, and take their seats
among the patricians of the heavenly court, with
brows glittering through all eternities with the
martyr's crown, his heart beat thick and fast, and
he longed only for an opportunity to dare and die.
And the longing begot the opportunity. For he
had hardly rejoined his brother visitors when the
absorbing thought took word again, and he began
questioning them eagerly for more information
about Hypatia.
On that point, indeed, he obtained nothing but
fresh invective; but when his companions, after
talking of the triumph which the true faith had
gained that morning, went on to speak of the great
overthrow of Paganism twenty years before, under
the patriarch Theophilus; of Olympiodorus and
his mob, who held the Serapeium for many days
by force of arms against the Christians, making
Those by whom Offences Come 143
sallies into the city, and torturing and murdering
the prisoners whom they took: of the martyrs
who, among those very pillars which overhung
their heads, had died in torments rather than
sacrifice to Serapis ; and of the final victory, and
the soldier who, in presence of the trembling
mob, clove the great jaw of the colossal idol, and
snapped for ever the spell of heathenism, Phil-
ammon's heart burned to distinguish himself like
that soldier, and to wipe out his qualms of con-
science by some more unquestionable deed of
Christian prowess. There were no idols now to
break: but there was philosophy: "Why not
carry war into the heart of the enemy's camp, and
beard Satan in his very den ? Why does not some
man of God go boldly into the lecture-room of the
sorceress, and testify against her to her face ? "
" Do it yourself if you dare," said Peter. " We
have no wish to get our brains knocked out by all
the profligate young gentlemen in the city."
" I will do it," said Philammon.
" That is, if his holiness allows you to make such
a fool of yourself."
" Take care, sir, of your words. You revile the
blessed martyrs, from Saint Stephen to Saint Telem-
achus, when you call such a deed foolishness."
" I shall most certainly inform his holiness of your
insolence."
" Do so," said Philammon, who, possessed with
a new idea, wished for nothing more. And there
the matter dropped for the time.
" The presumption of the young in this genera-
tion is growing insufferable," said Peter to his
master that evening.
144 Hypatia
" So much the better. They put their elders on
their mettle in the race of good works. But who
has been presuming to-day? "
" That mad boy whom Pambo sent up from the
deserts, dared to offer himself as champion of the
faith against Hypatia. He actually proposed to go
into her 'lecture-room and argue with her to her
face. What think you of that for a specimen of
youthful modesty, and self-distrust?"
Cyril was silent a while.
" What answer am I to have the honor of tak-
ing back ? A month's relegation to Nitria on bread
and water? You, I am sure, will not allow such
things to go unpunished ; indeed, if they do, there
is an end to all authority and discipline."
Cyril was still silent ; whilst Peter's brow clouded
fast. At last he answered :
"The cause wants martyrs. Send the boy to
me."
Peter went down with a shrug, and an expres-
sion of face which looked but too like envy, and
ushered up the trembling youth, who dropped on
his knees as soon as he entered.
" So you wish to go into the heathen woman's
lecture-room, and defy her? Have you courage
for it?"
" God will give it me."
" You will be murdered by her pupils."
"I can defend myself," said Philammon, with a
pardonable glance downward at his sinewy limbs.
"And if not: what death more glorious than
martyrdom ? "
Cyril smiled genially enough. " Promise me two
things."
" Two thousand, if you will."
Those by whom Offences Come 145
" Two are quite difficult enough to keep. Youth
is rash in promises, and rasher in forgetting them.
Promise me that, whatever happens, you will not
strike the first blow."
" I do."
" Promise me again, that you will not argue
with her."
"What then?"
" Contradict, denounce, defy. But give no rea-
sons. If you do, you are lost. She is subtler
than the serpent, skilled in all the tricks of logic,
and you will become a laughing-stock, and run
away in shame. Promise me."
" I do."
"Then go."
"When?"
" The sooner the better. At what hour does
the accursed woman lecture to-morrow, Peter ? "
" We saw her going to the Museum at nine this
morning."
" Then go at nine to-morrow. There is money
for you."
"What is this for?" asked Philammon, finger-
ing curiously the first coins which he ever had
handled in his life.
" To pay for your entrance. To the philosopher
none enters without money. Not so to the Church
of God, open all day long to the beggar and the
slave. If you convert her, well. And if not "...
And he added to himself between his teeth, " And
if not, well also perhaps better."
" Ay ! " said Peter, bitterly, as he ushered Phil-
ammon out. " Go up to Ramoth Gilead, and
prosper, young fool ! What evil spirit sent you
hereto feed the noble patriarch's only weakness?"
H Vol. VI
1 46 Hypatia
" What do you mean ? " asked Philammon, as
fiercely as he dare.
" The fancy that preachings, and protestations,
and martyrdoms can drive out the Canaanites, who
can only be got rid of with the sword of the Lord
and of Gideon. His uncle Theophilus knew that
well enough. If he had not, Olympiodorus might
have been master of Alexandria, and incense burn-
ing before Serapis to this day. Ay, go, and let
her convert you ! Touch the accursed thing, like
Achan, and see if you do not end by having it in
your tent. Keep company with the daughters of
Midian, and see if you do not join yourself to
Baalpeor, and eat the offerings of the dead ! "
And with this encouraging sentence, the two
parted for the night.
CHAPTER VIII
THE EAST WIND
AS Hypatia went forth the next morning, in all
her glory, with a crowd of philosophers and
philosophasters, students, and fine gentlemen, fol-
lowing her in reverend admiration across the street
to her lecture-room, a ragged beggar-man, accom-
panied by a huge and villainous-looking dog,
planted himself right before her, and extending
a dirty hand, whined for an alms.
Hypatia, whose refined taste could never endure
the sight, much less the contact, of anything squa-
lid and degraded, recoiled a little, and bade the
attendant slave get rid of the man, with a coin.
Several of the younger gentlemen, however, con-
sidered themselves adepts in that noble art of
" upsetting " then in vogue in the African univer-
sities, to which we all have reason enough to be
thankful, seeing that it drove Saint Augustine from
Carthage to Rome ; and they in compliance with
the usual fashion of tormenting any simple creature
who came in their way by mystification and insult,
commenced a series of personal witticisims, which
the beggar bore stoically enough. The coin was
offered him, but he blandly put aside the hand of
the giver, and keeping his place on the pavement,
seemed inclined to dispute Hypatia's further
passage.
148 Hypatia
"What do you want? Send the wretch and
his frightful dog away, gentlemen ! " said the poor
philosopher, in some trepidation.
" I know that dog," said one of them ; " it is
Aben-Ezra's. Where did you find it before it
was lost, you rascal ? "
"Where your mother found you when she palmed
you off upon her goodman, my child in the
slave market. Fair sibyl, have you already for-
gotten your humblest pupil, as these young dogs
have, who are already trying to upset their master
and instructor in the angelic science of bullying?"
And the beggar, lifting his broad straw hat, dis-
closed the features of Raphael Aben-Ezra. Hypatia
recoiled with a shriek of surprise.
" Ah ! you are astonished. At what, I pray? "
" To see you, sir, thus ! "
"Why, then? You have been preaching to us
all a long time the glory of abstraction from the
allurements of sense. It augurs ill, surely, for
your estimate either of your pupils or of your own
eloquence, if you are so struck with consternation
because one of them has actually at last obeyed
you."
" What is the meaning of this masquerade, most
excellent sir ? " asked Hypatia and a dozen voices
beside.
" Ask Cyril. I am on my way to Italy, in the
character of the New Diogenes, to look, like him,
for a man. When I have found one, I shall feel
great pleasure in returning to acquaint you with
the amazing news. Farewell ! I wished to look
once more at a certain countenance, though I have
turned, as you see, Cynic ; and intend henceforth
to attend no teacher but my dog, who will luckily
The East Wind 149
charge no fees for instruction ; if she did, I must
go untaught, for my ancestral wealth made itself
wings yesterday morning. You are aware, doubt-
less, of the Plebiscitum against the Jews, which
was carried into effect under the auspices of a
certain holy tribune of the people ? "
" Infamous ! "
" And dangerous, my dear lady. Success is in-
spiriting . . . and Theon's house is quite as easily
sacked as the Jews' quarter. . . . Beware."
" Come, come, Aben-Ezra," cried the young men ;
" you are far too good company for us to lose you
for that rascally patriarch's fancy. We will make
a subscription for you, eh? And you shall live
with each of us, month and month about. We
shall quite lose the trick of joking without
you."
"Thank you, gentlemen. But really you have
been my butts far too long for me to think of be-
coming yours. Madam, one word in private before
I go."
Hypatia leant forward, and speaking in Syriac,
whispered hurriedly:
" Oh, stay, sir, I beseech you ! You are the wisest
of my pupils perhaps my only true pupil. . . .
My father will find some concealment for you from
these wretches ; and if you need money, remember,
he is your debtor. We have never repaid you the
gold which "
" Fairest Muse, that was but my entrance-fee to
Parnassus. It is I who am in your debt ; and I have
brought my arrears, in the form of this opal ring.
As for shelter near you," he went on, lowering his
voice, and speaking like her, in Syriac : " Hypatia
the Gentite is far too lovely for the peace of mind
150 Hypatia
of Raphael the Jew." And he drew from his ringer
Miriam's ring, and offered it.
"Impossible!" said Hypatia, blushing scarlet:
" I cannot accept it."
" I beseech you. It is the last earthly burden I
have, except this snail's prison of flesh and blood.
My dagger will open a crack through that when it
becomes intolerable. But as I do not intend to leave
my shell, if I can help it, except just when and how
I choose ; and as, if I take this ring with me, some
of Heraclian's Circumcellions will assuredly knock
my brains out for the sake of it I must entreat."
" Never ! Can you not sell the ring, and escape
fc Synesius ? He will give you shelter."
" The hospitable hurricane ! Shelter, yes ; but
rest, none. As soon pitch my tent in the crater of
./Etna. Why, he will be trying day and night to
convert me to that eclectic farrago of his, which he
calls philosophic Christianity. Well, if you will
not have the ring, it is soon disposed of. We
Easterns know how to be magnificent, and vanish
as the lords of the world ought."
And he turned to the philosophic crowd.
" Here, gentlemen of Alexandria ! Does any gay
youth wish to pay his debts once and for all?
Behold the Rainbow of Solomon, an opal such as
Alexandria never saw before, which would buy any
one of you, and his Macedonian papa, and Mace-
donian mamma, and his Macedonian sisters, and
horses, and parrots, and peacocks, twice over, in
any slave-market in the world. Any gentleman
who wishes to possess a jewel worth ten thousand
gold pieces, will only need to pick it out of the
gutter into which I throw it. Scramble for it, you
young Phaedrias and Pamphili ! There are Laides
The East Wind 1 5 1
and Thaides enough about, who will help you to
spend it."
And raising the jewel on high, he was in the act
of tossing it into the street, when his arm was
seized from behind, and the ring snatched from
his hand. He turned, fiercely enough, and saw
behind him, her eyes flashing fury and contempt,
old Miriam.
Bran sprang at the old woman's throat in an in-
stant: but recoiled again before the glare of her
eye. Raphael called the dog off, and turning
quietly to the disappointed spectators:
" It is all right, my luckless friends. You must
raise money for yourselves, after all ; which, since
the departure of my nation, will be a somewhat
more difficult matter than ever. The over-ruling
destinies, whom, as you all know so well when you
are getting tipsy, not even philosophers can resist,
have restored the Rainbow of Solomon to its orig-
inal possessor. Farewell, Queen of Philosophy!
When I find the man, you shall hear of it. Mother,
I am coming with you for a friendly word before we
part, though," he went on laughing as the two
walked away together, " it was a scupvy trick of
you to balk one of The Nation of the exquisite
pleasure of seeing those heathen dogs scrambling
in the gutter for his bounty."
Hypatia went on to the Museum, utterly bewil-
dered by this strange meeting, and its still stranger
end. She took care, nevertheless, to betray no sign
of her deep interest till she found herself alone in
her little waiting-room adjoining the lecture-hall;
and there, throwing herself into a chair, she sat and
thought, till she found, to her surprise and anger,
the tears trickling down her cheeks. Not that her
152 Hypatia
bosom held one spark of affection for Raphael. If
there had ever been any danger of that the wily Jew
had himself taken care to ward it off, by the sneer-
ing and frivolous tone with which he quashed every
approach to deep feeling, either in himself or in
others. As for his compliments to her beauty, she
was far too much accustomed to such, to be either
pleased or displeased by them. But she felt, as
she said, that she had lost perhaps her only true
pupil ; and more perhaps her only true master.
For she saw clearly enough, that under that Silenus'
mask was hidden a nature capable of perhaps
more than she dare think of. She had always felt
him her superior in practical cunning; and that
morning had proved to her what she had long
suspected, that he was possibly also her superior
in that moral earnestness and strength of will for
which she looked in vain among the enervated
Greeks who surrounded her. And even in those
matters in which he professed himself her pupil, she
had long been alternately delighted by finding that
he alone, of all her school, seemed thoroughly and
instinctively to comprehend her every word, and
chilled by the disagreeable suspicion that he was
only playing with her, and her mathematics and
geometry, and metaphysic and dialectic, like a
fencer practising with foils, while he reserved his
real strength for some object more worthy of him.
More than once some paradox or question of his had
shaken her neatest systems into a thousand cracks,
and opened up ugly depths of doubt, even on the
most seemingly-palpable certainties ; or some half-
jesting allusion to those Hebrew Scriptures, the
quantity and quality of his faith in which he would
never confess, made her indignant at the notion that
The East Wind 153
he considered himself in possession of a reserved
ground of knowledge, deeper and surer than her
own, in which he did not deign to allow her to
share.
And yet she was irresistibly attracted to him.
That deliberate and consistent luxury of his, from
which she shrank, he had always boasted that he
was able to put on and take off at will like a gar-
ment: and now he seemed to have proved his
words ; to be a worthy rival of the great stoics of
old time. Could Zeno himself have asked more
from frail humanity? Moreover, Raphael had been
of infinite practical use to her. He worked out,
unasked, her mathematical problems; he looked
out authorities, kept her pupils in order by his
bitter tongue, and drew fresh students to her lect-
ures by the attractions of his wit, his arguments,
and last, but not least, his unrivalled cook and
cellar. Above all, he acted the part of a fierce
and valiant watch-dog on her behalf, against the
knots of clownish and often brutal sophists, the
wrecks of the old Cynic, Stoic, and Academic
schools, who, with venom increasing, after the
wont of parties, with their decrepitude, assailed the
beautifully bespangled card-castle of Neo-Platon-
ism, as an empty medley of all Greek philosophies
with all Eastern superstitions. All such Philis-
tines had as yet dreaded the pen and tongue of
Raphael, even more than those of the chivalrous
Bishop of Cyrene, though he certainly, to judge
from certain of his letters, hated them as much as
he could hate any human being ; which was after
all not very bitterly.
But the visits of Synesius were few and far be-
tween; the distance between Carthage and Alex-
1 54 Hypatia
andria, and the labor of his diocese, and, worse
than all, the growing difference in purpose between
him and his beautiful teacher, made his protection
all but valueless. And now Aben-Ezra was gone
too, and with him were gone a thousand plans and
hopes. To have converted him at last to a phil-
osophic faith in the old gods ! To have made him
her instrument for turning back the stream of
human error ! . . . How often had that dream
crossed her ! And now, who would take his
place? Athanasius? Synesius in his good-nature
might dignify him with the name of brother, but
to her he was a powerless pedant, destined to die
without having wrought any deliverance on the
earth, as indeed the event proved. Plutarch of
Athens? He was superannuated. Syrianus? A
mere logician, twisting Aristotle to mean what she
knew, and he ought to have known, Aristotle
never meant. Her father? A man of triangles
and conic sections. How paltry they all looked by
the side of the unfathomable Jew ! Spinners of
charming cobwebs. . . . But would the flies con-
descend to be caught in them ! Builders of pretty-
houses. ... If people would but enter and live in
them ! Preachers of superfine morality . . . which
their admiring pupils never dreamt of practising.
Without her, she well knew, philosophy must die
in Alexandria. And was it her wisdom or other
and more earthly charms of hers which enabled
her to keep it alive? Sickening thought! Oh,
that she were ugly, only to test the power of her
doctrines.
Ho ! The odds were fearful enough already ;
she would be glad of any help, however earthly
and carnal. But was not the work hopeless?
The East Wind 155
What she wanted was men who could act while
she thought. And those were just the men whom
she would find nowhere but she knew it too
well in the hated Christian priesthood. And
then that fearful Iphigenia sacrifice loomed in the
distance as inevitable. The only hope of phil-
osophy was in her despair !
She dashed away the tears, and proudly entered
the lecture-hall, and ascended the tribune like a
goddess, amid the shouts of her audience. . . .
What did she care for them? Would they do
what she told them? She was half through her
lecture before she could recollect herself, and
banish from her mind the thought of Raphael.
And at that point we will take the lecture up.
" Truth ! Where is truth but in the soul itself?
Facts, objects, are but phantoms matter-woven
ghosts of this earthly night, at which the soul,
sleeping here in the mire and clay of matter, shud-
ders and names its own vague tremors sense and
perception. Yet, even as our nightly dreams stir
in us the suspicion of mysterious and immaterial
presences, unfettered by the bonds of time and
space, so do these waking dreams which we call
sight and sound. They are divine messengers,
whom Zeus, pitying his children, even when he
pent them in this prison-house of flesh, appointed
to arouse in them dim recollections of that real
world of souls whence they came. Awakened
once to them; seeing, through the veil of sense
and fact, the spiritual truth of which they are but
the accidental garment, concealing the very thing
which they make palpable, the philosopher may
156 Hypatia
neglect the fact for the doctrine, the shell for the
kernel, the body for the soul, of which it is but
the symbol and the vehicle. What matter, then,
to the philosopher whether these names of men,
Hector or Priam, Helen or Achilles, were ever
visible as phantoms of flesh and blood before the
eyes of men? What matter whether they spoke
or thought as he of Scios says they did ? What
matter, even, whether he himself ever had earthly
life ? The book is here the word which men
call his. Let the thoughts thereof have been at
first whose they may, now they are mine. I have
taken them to myself, and thought them to myself,
and made them parts of my own soul. Nay, they
were and ever will be parts of me ; for they, even
as the poet was, even as I am, are but a part of
the universal soul. What matter, then, what myths
grew up around those mighty thoughts of ancient
seers? Let others try to reconcile the Cyclic
fragments, or vindicate the Catalogue of ships.
What has the philosopher lost, though the former
were proved to be contradictory, and the latter
interpolated? The thoughts are there, and ours.
Let us open our hearts lovingly to receive them,
from whencesoever they may have come. As in
men, so in books, the soul is all with which our
souls must deal ; and the soul of the book is what-
soever beautiful, and true, and noble we can find
in it. It matters not to us whether the poet was
altogether conscious of the meanings which we can
find in him. Consciously or unconsciously to him,
the meanings must be there; for were they not
there to be seen, how could we see them ? There
are those among the uninitiate vulgar and those,
too, who carry under the philosophic cloak hearts
The East Wind 157
still uninitiate who revile such interpretations as
merely the sophistic and arbitrary sports of fancy.
It lies with them to show what Homer meant, if
our spiritual meanings be absurd; to tell the
world why Homer is admirable, if that for which
we hold him up to admiration does not exist in
him. Will they say that the honor which he has
enjoyed for ages was inspired by that which seems
to be his first and literal meaning? And more,
will they venture to impute that literal meaning to
him? can they suppose that the divine soul of
Homer could degrade itself to write of actual and
physical feastings, and nuptials, and dances, actual
nightly thefts of horses, actual fidelity of dogs and
swineherds, actual intermarriages between deities
and men, or that it is this seeming vulgarity
which has won for him from the wisest of every
age the title of the father of poetry? Degrading
thought ! fit only for the coarse and sense-bound
tribe who can appreciate nothing but what is pal-
pable to sense and sight ! As soon believe the
Christian scriptures, when they tell us of a deity
who has hands and feet, eyes and ears, who
condescends to command the patterns of furniture
and culinary utensils, and is made perfect by being
born disgusting thought ! as the son of a
village maiden, and defiling himself with the wants
and sorrows of the lowest slaves ! "
" It is false ! blasphemous ! The Scriptures
cannot lie ! " cried a voice from the further end of
the room.
It was Philammon's. He had been listening to
the whole lecture, and yet not so much listening as
watching, in bewilderment, the beauty of the
speaker, the grace of her action, the melody of her
158 Hypatia
voice, and last, but not least, the maze of her rhet-
oric, as it glittered before his mind's eye like a cob-
web diamonded with dew. A sea of new thoughts
and questions, if not of doubts, came rushing
in at every sentence on his acute Greek intellect,
all the more plentifully and irresistibly because his
speculative faculty was as yet altogether waste and
empty, undefended by any scientific culture from
the inrushing flood. For the first time in his life
he found himself face to face with the root-ques-
tions of all thought: "What am I, and where?"
"What can I know?" And in the half- terrified
struggle with them, he had all but forgotten the
purpose for which he entered the lecture-hall.
He felt that he must break the spell. Was she
not a heathen and a false prophetess ? Here was
something tangible to attack ; and half in indigna-
tion at the blasphemy, half in order to force himself
into action, he had sprung up and spoken.
A yell arose. " Turn the monk out ! " " Throw
the rustic through the window ! " cried a dozen
young gentlemen. Several of the most, valiant
began to scramble over the benches up to him ; and
Philammon was congratulating himself on the near
approach of a glorious martyrdom, when Hypatia's
voice, calm and silvery, stifled the tumult in a
moment.
" Let the youth listen, gentlemen. He is but a
monk and a plebeian, and knows no better ; he has
been taught thus. Let him sit here quietly, and
perhaps we may be able to teach him otherwise."
And without interrupting, even by a change of
tone, the thread of her discourse, she continued :
" Listen, then, to a passage, from the sixth book
of the * Iliad/ in which last night I seemed to
The East Wind 159
see glimpses of some mighty mystery. You know
it well : yet I will read it to you ; the very sound
and pomp of that great verse may tune our souls
to a fit key for the reception of lofty wisdom. For
well said Abamnon the Teacher, that ' the soul con-
sisted first of harmony and rhythm, and ere it gave
itself to the body, had listened to the divine har-
mony. Therefore it is that when, after having
come into a body, it hears such melodies as most
preserve the divine footstep of harmony, it em-
braces such, and recollects from them that divine
harmony, and is impelled to it, and finds its home
in it, and shares of it as much as it can share.' "
And therewith fell on Philammon's ear, for the
first time, the mighty thunder-roll of Homer's verse :
So spoke the stewardess: but Hector rushed
From the house, the same way back, down stately streets,
Through the broad city, to the Scaian gates,
Whereby he must go forth toward the plain,
There running toward him came Andromache,
His ample-dowered wife, Eetion's child
Eetion the great-hearted, he who dwelt
In Thebe* under Places, and the woods
Of Placos, ruling over Kilic men.
His daughter wedded Hector brazen-helmed,
And met him then ; and with her came a maid,
Who bore in arms a playful-hearted babe,
An infant still, akin to some fair star,
Only and well-loved child of Hector's house,
Whom he had named Scamandrios, but the rest
Astyanax, because his sire alone-
Upheld the weal of Ilion the holy.
He smiled in silence, looking on his child :
But she stood close to him, with many tears ;
And hung upon his hand, and spoke, and called him.
" My hero, thy great heart will wear thee out ;
Thou pitiest not thine infant child, nor me
The hapless, soon to be thy widow ;
160 Hypatia
The Greeks will slay thee, falling one and all
Upon thee : but to me were sweeter far,
Having lost thee, to die ; no cheer to me
Will come thenceforth, if thou shouldst meet thy fate ;
Woes only : mother have I none, nor sire.
For that my sire divine Achilles slew,
And wasted utterly the pleasant homes
Of Kilic folk in Thetx? lofty-walled,
And slew Eetion with the sword ! yet spared
To strip the dead : awe kept his soul from that.
Therefore he burnt him in his graven arms,
And heaped a mound above him ; and around
The damsels of the vEgis-holding Zeus,
The nymphs who haunt the upland, planted elms.
And seven brothers bred with me in the halls,
All in one day went down to Hades there ;
For all of them swift-foot Achilles slew
Beside the lazy kine and snow-white sheep.
And her, my mother, who of late was queen
Beneath the woods of Placos, he brought here
Among his other spoils ; yet set her free
Again, receiving ransom rich and great.
But Artemis, whose bow is all her joy,
Smote her to death within her father's halls.
Hector ! so thou art father to me now,
Mother, and brother, and husband fair and strong 1
Oh, come now, pity me, and stay thou here
Upon the tower, nor make thy child an orphan
And me thy wife a widow ; range the men
Here by the fig-tree, where the city lies
Lowest, and where the wall can well be scaled ;
For here three times the best have tried the assault
Round either Ajax, and Idomeneus,
And round the Atridai both, and Tydeus' son,
Whether some cunning seer taught them craft,
Or their own spirit stirred and drove them on."
Then spake tall Hector, with the glancing helm:
" All this I too have watched, my wife ; yet much
I hold in dread the scorn of Trojan men
And Trojan women with their trailing shawls,
If, like a coward, I should skulk from war.
Beside, I have no lust to stay ; I have learnt
The East Wind 161
Aye to be bold, and lead the van of fight,
To win my father, and myself, a name.
For well I know, at heart and in my thought,
The day will come when Ilios the holy
Shall lie in heaps, and Priam, and the folk
Of ashen-speared Priam, perish all.
But yet no woe to come to Trojan men,
Nor even to Hecabe, nor Priam king,
Nor to my brothers, who shall roll in dust,
Many and fair, beneath the strokes of foes,
So moves me, as doth thine, when thou shalt go
Weeping, led off by some brass-harnessed Greek,
Robbed of the daylight of thy liberty,
To weave in Argos at another's loom,
Or bear the water of Messeis home,
Or Hypereia, with unseemly toils,
While heavy doom constrains thee, and perchance
The folk may say, who see thy tears run down,
4 This was the wife of Hector, best in fight
At Ilium, of horse-taming Trojan men.'
So will they say perchance ; while unto thee
Now grief will come, for such a husband's loss,
Who might have warded off the day of thrall.
But may the soil be heaped above my corpse
Before I hear thy shriek and see thy shame ! "
He spoke, and stretched his arms to take th child,
But back the child upon his nurse's breast
Shrank crying, frightened at his father's looks,
Fearing the brass and crest of horse's hair
Which waved above the helmet terribly.
Then out that father dear and mother laughed,
And glorious Hector took the helmet off,
And laid it gleaming on the ground, and kissed
His darling child, and danced him in his arm ;
And spoke in prayer to Zeus, and all the gods :
" Zeu, and ye other gods, oh grant that this
My child, like me, may grow the champion here
As good in strength, and rule with might in Troy.
That men may say, ' The boy is better far
Than was his sire,' when he returns from war,
Bearing a gory harness, having slain
A foeman, and his mother's heart rejoice."
1 62 Hypatia
Thus saying, on the hands of his dear wife
He laid the child ; and she received him back
In fragrant bosom, smiling through her tears. 1
" Such is the myth. Do you fancy that in it
Homer meant to hand down to the admiration of
ages such earthly commonplaces as a mother's
brute affection, and the terrors of an infant?
Surely the deeper insight of the philosopher may
be allowed, without the reproach of fancifulness,
to see in it the adumbration of some deeper
mystery !
" The elect soul, for instance is not its name
Astyanax, king of the city; by the fact of its
ethereal parentage, the leader and lord of all
around it, though it knows it not? A child as yet,
it lies upon the fragrant bosom of its mother
Nature, the nurse and yet the enemy of man
Andromache, as the poet well names her, because
she rights with that being, when grown to man's
estate, whom as a child she nourished. Fair is
she, yet unwise; pampering us, after the fashion
of mothers, with weak indulgences; fearing to
send us forth into the great realities of speculation,
there to forget her in the pursuit of glory, she
would have us while away our prime within the
harem, and play for ever round her knees. And
1 The above lines are not meant as a " translation," but as an
humble attempt to give the literal sense in some sort of metre.
It would be an act of arrogance even to aim at success where
Pope and Chapman failed. It is simply, I believe, impossible
to render Homer into English verse ; because, for one reason
among many, it is impossible to preserve the pomp of sound,
which invests with grandeur his most common words. How
can any skill represent the rhythm of Homeric Greek in a
language which to take the first verse which comes to hand
transforms "boos megaloio boeien," into "great ox's hide "?
The East Wind 163
has not the elect soul a father, too, whom it knows
not? Hector, he who is without unconfined,
unconditioned by Nature, yet its husband ? the
all-pervading, plastic Soul, informing, organizing,
whom men call Zeus the lawgiver, JEther the fire,
Osiris the lifegiver ; whom here the poet has set
forth as the defender of the mystic city, the
defender of harmony, and order, and beauty
throughout the universe? Apart sits his great
father Priam, the first of existences, father of
many sons, the Absolute Reason ; unseen, tremen-
dous, immovable, in distant glory; yet himself
amenable to that abysmal unity which Homer
calls Fate, the source of all which is, yet in Itself
Nothing, without predicate, unnamable.
"From It and for It the universal Soul thrills
through the whole Creation, doing the behests of
that Reason from which it overflowed, unwillingly,
into the storm and crowd of material appearances ;
warring with the brute forces of gross matter,
crushing all which is foul and dissonant to itself, and
clasping to its bosom the beautiful, and all wherein
it discovers its own reflex ; impressing on it its sig-
nature, reproducing from it its own likeness, whether
star, or demon, or soul of the elect : and yet, as
the poet hints in anthropomorphic language,
haunted all the while by a sadness weighed
down amid all its labors by the sense of a fate
by the thought of that First One from whom the
Soul is originally descended ; from whom it, and its
Father the Reason before it, parted themselves
when they dared to think and act, and assert their
own free will.
" And in the meanwhile, alas ! Hector, the father,
fights around, while his children sleep and feed;
1 64 Hypatia
and he is away in the wars, and they know him
not know not that they the individuals are but
parts of him the universal. And yet at moments
oh ! thrice blessed they whose celestial parentage
has made such moments part of their appointed
destiny at moments flashes on the human child
the intuition of the unutterable secret. In the
spangled glory of the summer-night in the roar
of the Nile-flood, sweeping down fertility in every
wave in the awful depths of the temple-shrine
in the wild melodies of old Orphic singers, or be-
fore the images of those gods of whose perfect
beauty the divine theosophists of Greece caught
a fleeting shadow, and with the sudden might of
artistic ecstasy smote it, as by an enchanter's wand,
into an eternal sleep of snowy stone in these
there flashes on the inner eye a vision beautiful and
terrible, of a force, an energy, a soul, an idea, one
and yet million-fold, rushing through all created
things, like the wind across a lyre, thrilling the
strings into celestial harmony one life-blood
through the million veins of the universe, from one
great unseen heart, whose thunderous pulses the
mind hears far away, beating for ever in the abysmal
solitude, beyond the heavens and the galaxies, be-
yond the spaces and the times, themselves but veins
and runnels from its all-teeming sea.
" Happy, thrice happy ! they who once have
dared, even though breathless, blinded with tears
of awful joy, struck down upon their knees in utter
helplessness, as they feel themselves but dead leaves
in the wind which sweeps the universe happy
they who have dared to gaze, if but for an instant,
on the terror of that glorious pagent; who have
not, like the young Astyanax, clung shrieking to
The East Wind 165
the breast of mother Nature, scared by the heaven-
wide flash of Hector's arms, and the glitter of his
rainbow crest ! Happy, thrice happy ! even though
their eyeballs, blasted by excess of light, wither to
ashes in their sockets ! Were it not a noble end to
have seen Zeus, and die like Semele, burnt up by
his glory? Happy, thrice happy! though their
mind reel from the divine intoxication, and the hogs
of Circe call them henceforth madmen and enthusi-
asts. Enthusiasts they are ; for Deity is in them,
and they in It. For the time, this burden of in-
dividuality vanishes, and recognizing themselves as
portions of the universal Soul, they rise upward,
through and beyond that Reason from whence the
soul proceeds, to the fount of all the ineffable
and Supreme One and seeing It, become by that
act portions of Its essence. They speak no more,
but It speaks in them, and their whole being, trans-
muted by that glorious sunlight into whose rays they
have dared, like the eagle, to gaze without shrink-
ing, becomes an harmonious vehicle for the words
of Deity, and passive itself, utters the secrets of the
immortal gods. What wonder if to the brute mass
they seem as dreamers? Be it so. ... Smile if
you will. But ask me not to teach you things un-
speakable, above all sciences, which the word-battle
of dialectic, the discursive struggles of reason can
never reach, but which must be seen only, and when
seen confessed to be unspeakable. Hence, thou
disputer of the Academy ! hence, thou sneering
Cynic ! hence, thou sense-worshipping Stoic, who
fanciest that the soul is to derive her knowledge
from those material appearances which she herself
creates! . . . hence ; and yet no: stay and
sneer if you will. It is but a little time a few
1 66 Hypatia
days longer in this prison-house of our degradation,
and each thing shall return to its own fountain;
the blood-drop to the abysmal heart, and the water
to the river, and the fiver to the shining sea ; and
the dewdrop which fell from heaven shall rise to
heaven again, shaking off the dust-grains which
weighed it down, thawed from the earth-frost
which chained it here to herb and sward, upward
and upward ever through stars and suns, through
gods, and through the parents of the gods, purer
and purer through successive lives, till it enters
The Nothing, which is The All, and finds its home
at last." . . .
And the speaker stopped suddenly, her eyes
glistening with tears, her whole figure trembling
and dilating with rapture. She remained for a
moment motionless, gazing earnestly at her au-
dience, as if in hopes of exciting in them some
kindred glow; and then recovering herself, added
in a more tender tone, not quite unmixed with
sadness :
" Go now, my pupils. Hypatia has no more for
you to-day. Go now, and spare her at least
woman as she is after all the shame of finding
that she has given you too much, and lifted the veil
of Isis before eyes which are not enough purified
to behold the glory of the goddess. Farewell ! "
She ended: and Philammon, the moment that
the spell of her voice was taken off him, sprang
up, and hurried out through the corridor into the
street. . . .
So beautiful ! So calm and merciful to him !
So enthusiastic towards all which was noble ! Had
not she too spoken of the unseen world, of the
hope of immortality, of the conquest of the spirit
The East Wind 1 67
over the flesh, just as a Christian might have done ?
Was the gulf between them so infinite ? If so, why
had her aspirations awakened echoes in his own
heart echoes too, just such as the prayers and
lessons of the Laura used to awaken ? If the fruit
was so like, must not the root be like also? . . .
Could that be a counterfeit? That a minister of
Satan in the robes of an angel of light? Light, at
least, it was: purity, simplicity, courage, earnest-
ness, tenderness, flashed out from eye, lip, ges-
ture. ... A heathen, who disbelieved ? . . . What
was the meaning of it all?
But the finishing stroke yet remained which was
to complete the utter confusion of his mind. For
before he had gone fifty yards up the street, his little
friend of the fruit-basket, whom he had not seen
since he vanished under the feet of the mob, in the
gateway of the theatre, clutched him by the arm,
and burst forth, breathless with running :
" The gods heap their favors on those
who who least deserve them ! Rash and insolent
rustic ! And this is the reward of thy madness ! "
" Off with you ! " said Philammon, who had no
mind at the moment to renew his acquaintance with
the little porter. But the guardian of parasols kept
a firm hold on his sheepskin.
" Fool ! Hypatia herself commands ! Yes, you
will see her, have speech with her ! while I I the
illuminated I the appreciating I the obedient
I the adoring who for these three years past
have grovelled in the kennel, that the hem of her
garment might touch the tip of my little finger
" What do you want, madman ? "
" She calls for thee, insensate wretch ! Theon
1 68 Hypatia
sent me breathless at once with running and with
envy Go ! favorite of the unjust gods ! "
"Who isTheon?"
" Her father, ignorant ! He commands thee to
be at her house here opposite to-morrow at
the third hour. Hear and obey ! There ! they are
coming out of the Museum, and all the parasols
will get wrong ! Oh, miserable me ! "
And the poor little fellow rushed back again,
while Philammon, at his wits' end between dread
and longing, started off, and ran the whole way
home to the Serapeium, regardless of carriages,
elephants, and foot-passengers; and having been
knocked down by a surly porter, and left a piece
of his sheepskin between the teeth of a spiteful
camel neither of which insults he had time to
resent arrived at the archbishop's house, found
Peter the Reader, and tremblingly begged an
audience from Cyril.
CHAPTER IX
THE SNAPPING OF THE BOW
CYRIL heard Philammon's story and Hypatia's
message with a quiet smile, and then dis-
missed the youth to an afternoon of labor in the
city, commanding him to mention no word of what
had happened, and to come to him that evening and
receive his order, when he should have had time to
think over the matter. So forth Philammon went
with his companions, through lanes and alleys
hideous with filth and poverty, compulsory idleness
and native sin. Fearfully real and practical it all
was ; but he saw it all dimly as in a dream. Before
his eyes one face was shining; in his ears one
silvery voice was ringing. ..." He is a monk, and
knows no better." . . . True! And how should
he know better? How could he tell how much
more there was to know, in that great new universe,
in such a cranny whereof his life had till now been
passed ? He had heard but one side already. What
if there were two sides? Had he not a right
that is, was it not proper, fair, prudent, that he
should hear both, and then judge ?
Cyril had hardly, perhaps, done wisely for the
youth in sending him out about the practical
drudgery of benevolence, before deciding for him
what was his duty with regard to Hypatia's invita-
tion. He had not calculated on the new thoughts
which were tormenting the young monk ; perhaps
I Vol. VI
1 70 Hypatia
they would have been unintelligible to him had he
known of them. Cyril had been bred up under the
most stern dogmatic training, in those vast mon-
astic establishments, which had arisen amid the
neighboring saltpetre quarries of Nitria, where
thousands toiled in voluntary poverty and starva-
tion at vast bakeries, dyeries, brick-fields, tailors'
shops, carpenters' yards ; and expended the profits
of their labor, not on themselves, for they had
need of nothing, but on churches, hospitals, and
alms. Educated in that world of practical indus-
trial production as well as of religious exercise,
which by its proximity to the great city accustomed
monks to that world which they despised ; entan-
gled from boyhood in the intrigues of his fierce and
ambitious uncle Theophilus, Cyril had succeeded
him in the patriarchate of Alexandria without
having felt a doubt, and stood free to throw his
fiery energy and clear practical intellect into the
cause of the Church without scruple, even, where
necessary, without pity. How could such a man
sympathize with the poor boy of twenty, suddenly
dragged forth from the quiet cavern-shadow of the
Laura into the full blaze and roar of the world's
noonday? He, too, was cloister-bred. But the
busy and fanatic atmosphere of Nitria, where every
nerve of soul and body was kept on a life-long
artificial strain, without rest, without simplicity,
without human affection, was utterly antipodal to
the government of the remote and needy, though
no less industrious commonwealths of Coenobites,
who dotted the lonely mountain-glens, far up into
the heart of the Nubian desert. In such a one
Philammon had received, from a venerable man, a
mother's sympathy as well as a father's care ; and
The Snapping of the Bow 171
now he yearned for the encouragement of a gentle
voice, for the greeting of a kindly eye, and was
lonely and sick at heart. . . . And still Hypatia's
voice haunted his ears, like a strain of music, and
would not die away. That lofty enthusiasm, so
sweet and modest in its grandeur, that tone of
pity in one so lovely it could not be called
contempt for the many ; that delicious phantom
of being an elect spirit . . . unlike the crowd. . . .
" And am I altogether like the crowd ? " said Phil-
ammon to himself, as he staggered along under the
weight of a groaning fever-patient. " Can there
be found no fitter work for me than this, which any
porter from the quay might do as well? Am I
not somewhat wasted on such toil as this ! Have
I not an intellect, a taste, a reason? I could
appreciate what she said. Why should not my
faculties be educated ? Why am I only to be shut
out from knowledge? There is a Christian Gnosis
as well as a heathen one. What was permissible
to Clement " he had nearly said to Origen, but
checked himself on the edge of heresy " is surely
lawful for me ! Is not my very craving for know-
ledge a sign that I am capable of it? Surely my
sphere is the study rather than the street ! "
And then his fellow-laborers he could not
deny it to himself began to grow less venerable
in his eyes. Let him try as he might to forget the
old priest's grumblings and detractions, the fact
was before him. The men were coarse, fierce,
noisy ... so different from her! Their talk
seemed mere gossip scandalous too, and hard-
judging, most of it; about that man's private
ambition, and that woman's proud looks ; and who
had stayed for the Eucharist the Sunday before,
172 Hypatia
and who had gone out after the sermon ; and how
the majority who did not stay could possibly dare
to go, and how the minority who did not go
could possibly dare to stay. . . . Endless suspi-
cions, sneers, complaints . . . what did they care
for the eternal glories and the beatific vision?
Their one test for all men and things, from the
patriarch to the prefect, seemed to be did he
or it advance the cause of the Church? which
Philammon soon discovered to mean their own
cause, their influence, their self-glorification. And
the poor boy, as his faculty for fault-finding quick-
ened under the influence of theirs, seemed to see
under the humble stock-phrases in which they
talked of their labors of love, and the future
reward of their present humiliations, a deep and
hardly-hidden pride, a faith in their own infalli-
bility, a contemptuous impatience of every man,
however venerable, who differed from their party
on any, the slightest, matter. They spoke with
sneers of Augustine's Latinizing tendencies, and
with open execrations of Chrysostom, as the vilest
and most impious of schismatics; and, for aught
Philammon knew, they were right enough. But
when they talked of wars and desolation past and
impending, without a word of pity for the slain and
ruined, as a just judgment of Heaven upon heretics
and heathens; when they argued over the awful
struggle for power which, as he gathered from
their words, was even then pending between the
Emperor and the Count of Africa, as if it contained
but one question of interest to them would Cyril,
and they as his bodyguard, gain or lose power in
Alexandria? and lastly, when at some mention of
Orestes, and of Hypatia as his counsellor, they
The Snapping of the Bow 173
broke out into open imprecations of God's curse,
and comforted themselves with the prospect of
everlasting torment for both; he shuddered
and asked himself involuntarily were these the
ministers of a Gospel? were these the fruits
of Christ's Spirit? . . . And a whisper thrilled
through the inmost depth of his soul : " Is there
a Gospel? Is there a Spirit of Christ? Would
not their fruits be different from these? "
Faint, and low, and distant, was that whisper,
like the mutter of an earthquake miles below the
soil. And yet, like the earthquake-roll, it had in
that one moment jarred every belief, and hope,
and memory of his being each a hair's-breadth
from its place. . . . Only one hair's-breadth.
But that was enough ; his whole inward and out-
ward world changed shape, and cracked at every
joint. What if it were to fall in pieces ? His brain
reeled with the thought. He doubted his own
identity. The very light of heaven had altered
its hue. Was the firm ground on which he stood
after all no solid reality, but a fragile shell which
covered what ?
The nightmare vanished, and he breathed once
more. What a strange dream ! The sun and the
exertion must have made him giddy. He would
forget all about it.
Weary with labor, and still wearier with thought,
he returned that evening, longing, and yet dread-
ing to be permitted to speak with Hypatia. He
half hoped at moments that Cyril might think him
too weak for it; and the next, all his pride and
daring, not to say his faith and hope, spurred him
on. Might he but face the terrible enchantress,
and rebuke her to her face ! And yet so lovely,
174 Hypatia
so noble as she looked ! Could he speak to her,
except in tones of gentle warning, pity, counsel,
entreaty? Might he not convert her save her?
Glorious thought ! to win such a soul to the true
cause ! To be able to show, as the first fruits of
his mission, the very champion of heathendom !
It was worth while to have lived only to do that ;
and having done it, to die.
The archbishop's lodgings, when he entered
them, were in a state of ferment even greater than
usual. Groups of monks, priests, parabolani, and
citizens rich and poor, were hanging about the
courtyard, talking earnestly and angrily. A large
party of monks fresh from Nitria, with ragged hair
and beards, and the peculiar expression of coun-
tenance which fanatics of all creeds acquire, fierce
and yet abject, self-conscious and yet ungoverned,
silly and yet sly, with features coarsened and
degraded by continual fasting and self-torture,
prudishly shrouded from head to heel in their
long ragged gowns, were gesticulating wildly and
loudly, and calling on their more peaceable com-
panions, in no measured terms, to revenge some
insult offered to the Church.
"What is the matter?" asked Philammon of a
quiet portly citizen, who stood looking up, with
a most perplexed visage, at the windows of the
patriarch's apartments.
" Don't ask me ; I have nothing to do with it
Why does not his holiness come out and speak to
them ? Blessed Virgin, mother of God ! that we
were well through it all ! "
" Coward ! " bawled a monk in his ear. " These
shopkeepers care for nothing but seeing their stalls
safe. Rather than lose a day's custom, they would
The Snapping of the Bow 1 75
give the very churches to be plundered by the
heathen ! "
"We do not want them ! " cried another. " We
managed Dioscuros and his brother, and we can
manage Orestes. What matter what answer he
sends ? The devil shall have his own ! "
"They ought to have been back two hours
ago ; they are murdered by this time."
" He would not dare to touch the archdeacon ! "
" He will dare anything. Cyril should never
have sent them forth as lambs among wolves.
What necessity was there for letting the prefect
know that the Jews were gone ? He would have
found it out for himself fast enough, the next time
he wanted to borrow money."
"What is all this about, reverend sir?" asked
Philammon of Peter the Reader, who made his
appearance at that moment in the quadrangle,
walking with great strides, like the soul of Aga-
memnon across the meads of Asphodel, and
apparently beside himself with rage.
" Ah ! you here ? You may go to-morrow, young
fool ! The patriarch can't talk to you. Why should
he? Some people have a great deal too much
notice taken of them, in my opinion. Yes ; you
may go. If your head is not turned already, you
may go and get it turned to-morrow. We shall see
whether he who exalts himself is not abased, before
all is over ! " And he was striding away, when Phil-
ammon, at the risk of an explosion, stopped him.
" His holiness commanded me to see him, sir,
before "
Peter turned on him in a fury. " Fool ! will
you dare to intrude your fantastical dreams on
him at such a moment as this?"
1 76 Hypatia
" He commanded me to see him," said Philam-
mon, with the true soldierlike discipline of a monk;
" and see him I will, in spite of any man. I believe
in my heart you wish to keep me from his coun-
sels and his blessing."
Peter looked at him for a moment with a right
wicked expression, and then, to the youth's as-
tonishment, struck him full in the face, and yelled
for help.
If the blow had been given by Pambo in the
Laura a week before, Philammon would have
borne it. But from that man, and coming unex-
pectedly as the finishing stroke to all his disap-
pointment and disgust, it was intolerable ; and in
an instant Peter's long legs were sprawling on the
pavement, while he bellowed like a bull for all
the monks in Nitria.
A dozen lean brown hands were at Philammon's
throat as Peter rose.
" Seize him ! hold him ! " half blubbered he.
" The traitor ! the heretic ! He holds communion
with heathens ! "
" Down with him ! " " Cast him out ! " " Carry
him to the archbishop ! " while Philammon shook
himself free, and Peter returned to the charge.
" I call all good catholics to witness ! He has
beaten an ecclesiastic in the courts of the Lord's
house, even in the midst of thee, O Jerusalem!
And he was in Hypatia's lecture-room this
morning ! "
A groan of pious horror rose. Philammon set
his back against the wall.
" His holiness the patriarch sent me."
" He confesses, he confesses ! He deluded the
piety of the patriarch into letting him go, under
The Snapping of the Bow 1 77
color of converting her ; and even now he wants
to intrude on the sacred presence of Cyril, burning
only with carnal desire that he may meet the
sorceress in her house to-morrow ! "
" Scandal ! " " Abomination in the holy place ! "
and a rush at the poor youth took place.
His blood was thoroughly up. The respectable
part of the crowd, as usual in such cases, pru-
dently retreated, and left him to the mercy of the
monks, with an eye to their own reputation for
orthodoxy, not to mention their personal safety;
and he had to help himself as he could. He
looked round for a weapon. There was none.
The ring of monks were baying at him like hounds
round a bear : and though he might have been a
match for any one of them singly, yet their sinewy
limbs and determined faces warned him that against
such odds the struggle would be desperate.
" Let me leave this court in safety ! God knows
whether I am a heretic ; and to Him I commit my
cause ! The holy patriarch shall know of your
iniquity. I will not trouble you ; I give you leave
to call me heretic, or heathen, if you will, if I cross
this threshold till Cyril himself sends for me back
to shame you."
And he turned, and forced his way to the gate,
amid a yell of derision which brought every drop
of blood in his body into his cheeks. Twice, as
he went down the vaulted passage, a rush was
made on him from behind, but the soberer of his
persecutors checked it. Yet he could not leave
them, young and hot-headed as he was, without
one last word, and on the threshold he turned.
" You ! who call yourselves the disciples of the
Lord, and are more like the demoniacs who abode
178 Hypatia
day and night in the tombs, crying and cutting
themselves with stones "
In an instant they rushed upon him; and,
luckily for him, rushed also into the arms of a
party of ecclesiastics, who were hurrying inwards
from the street, with faces of blank terror.
" He has refused !" shouted the foremost. "He
declares war against the Church of God ! "
" Oh, my friends," panted the archdeacon, " we
are escaped like the bird out of the snare of the
fowler. The tyrant kept us waiting two hours
at his palace-gates, and then sent lictors out upon
us, with rods and axes, telling us that they were
the only message which he had for robbers and
rioters."
" Back to the patriarch ! " and the whole mob
streamed in again, leaving Philammon alone in
the street and in the world.
Whither now?
He strode on in his wrath some hundred yards
or more before he asked himself that question.
And when he asked it, he found himself in no
humor to answer it. He was adrift, and blown
out of harbor upon a shoreless sea, in utter dark-
ness; all heaven and earth were nothing to him.
He was alone in the blindness of anger.
Gradually one fixed idea, as a light-tower, be-
gan to glimmer through the storm. . . . To see
Hypatia, and convert her. He had the patriarch's
leave for that. That must be right. That would
justify him bring him back, perhaps, in a tri-
umph more glorious than any Caesar's, leading
captive, in the fetters of the Gospel, the Queen
of Heathendom. Yes, there was that left, for
which to live.
The Snapping of the Bow 1 79
His passion cooled down gradually as he wan-
dered on in the fading evening-light, up one street
and down another, till he had utterly lost his way.
What matter? He should find that lecture-room
to-morrow at least. At last he found himself in
a broad avenue, which he seemed to know.
Was that the Sungate in the distance ? He saun-
tered carelessly down it, and found himself at last
on the great Esplanade, whither the little porter
had taken him three days before. He was close
then to the Museum, and to her house. Destiny
had led him, unconsciously, towards the scene
of his enterprise. It was a good omen ; he would
go thither at once. He might sleep upon her
doorstep as well as upon any other. Perhaps he
might catch a glimpse of her going out or coming
in, even at that late hour. It might be well to
accustom himself to the sight of her. There
would be the less chance of his being abashed
to-morrow before those sorceress eyes. And
moreover, to tell the truth, his self-dependence,
and his self-will too, crushed, or rather laid to
sleep, by the discipline of the Laura, had started
into wild life, and gave him a mysterious pleasure,
which he had not felt since he was a disobedient
little boy, of doing what he chose, right or wrong,
simply because he chose it. Such moments come
to every free-willed creature. Happy are those
who have not, like poor Philammon, been kept
by a hotbed cultivation from knowing how to face
them ! But he had yet to learn, or rather his
tutors had to learn, that the sure path toward
willing obedience and manful self-restraint, lies
not through slavery, but through liberty.
He was not certain which was Hypatia's house ;
1 80 Hypatia
but the door of the Museum he could not forget.
So there he sat himself down under the garden-
wall, soothed by the cool night, and the holy
silence, and the rich perfume of the thousand
foreign flowers which filled the air with enervating
balm. There he sat, and watched, and watched,
and watched in vain for some glimpse of his one
object. Which of the houses was hers? Which
was the window of her chamber? Did it look
into the street? What business had his fancy with
woman's chambers? . . . But that one open win-
dow, with the lamp burning bright inside he
could not help looking up to it he could not
help fancying hoping. He even moved a few
yards to see better the bright interior of the room.
High up as it was, he could still discern shelves of
books pictures on the walls. Was that a voice?
Yes ! a woman's voice reading aloud in metre
was plainly distinguishable in the dead stillness of
the night, which did not even awaken a whisper in
the trees above his head. He stood, spell-bound
by curiosity.
Suddenly the voice ceased, and a woman's figure
came forward to the window, and stood motionless,
gazing upward at the spangled star-world over-
head, and seeming to drink in the glory, and the
silence, and the rich perfume. . . . Could it be
she ? Every pulse in his body throbbed madly. . . .
Could it be? What was she doing? He could
not distinguish the features ; but the full blaze of
the eastern moon showed him an upturned brow,
between a golden stream of glittering tresses which
hid her whole figure, except the white hands
clasped upon her bosom. . . . Was she praying?
were these her midnight sorceries? . . .
The Snapping of the Bow 1 8 1
And still his heart throbbed and throbbed, till
he almost fancied she must hear its noisy beat
and still she stood motionless, gazing upon the
sky, like some exquisite chryselephantine statue,
all ivory and gold. And behind her, round the
bright room within, painting, books, a whole world
of unknown science and beauty. . . . And she
the priestess of it all ... inviting him to learn
of her and be wise ! It was a temptation ! He
would flee from it ! Fool that he was ! and it
might not be she after all !
He made some sudden movement. She looked
down, saw him, and shutting the blind, vanished
for the night. In vain, now that the temptation
had departed, he sat and waited for its reappear-
ance, half cursing himself for having broken the
spell. But the chamber was dark and silent hence-
forth ; and Philammon, wearied out, found himself
soon wandering back to the Laura in quiet dreams,
beneath the balmy, semi-tropic night.
CHAPTER X
THE INTERVIEW
PHILAMMON was aroused from his slumbers
at sunrise the next morning by the attend-
ants who came in to sweep out the lecture-rooms,
and wandered, disconsolately enough, up and down
the street ; longing for, and yet dreading, the three
weary hours to be over which must pass before he
would be admitted to Hypatia. But he had tasted
no food since noon the day before: he had had
but three hours' sleep the previous night, and had
been working, running, and fighting for two whole
days without a moment's peace of body or mind.
Sick with hunger and fatigue, and aching from
head to foot with his hard night's rest on the
granite-flags, he felt as unable as man could well
do to collect his thoughts or brace his nerves for
the coming interview. How to get food he could
not guess; but having two hands, he might at
least earn a coin by carrying a load ; so he went
down to the Esplanade in search of work. Of that,
alas ! there was none. So he sat down upon the
parapet of the quay, and watched the shoals of
sardines which played in and out over the marble
steps below, and wondered at the strange crabs
and sea-locusts which crawled up and down the
face of the masonry, a few feet below the surface,
scrambling for bits of offal, and making occasional
fruitless dashes at the nimble little silver arrows
The Interview 183
which played round them. And at last his whole
soul, too tired to think of anything else, became
absorbed in a mighty struggle between two great
crabs, who held on stoutly, each by a claw, to his
respective bunch of seaweed, while with the others
they tugged, one at the head and the other at the
tail of a dead fish. Which would conquer? . . .
Ay, which? And for five minutes Philammon was
alone in the world with the two struggling heroes.
. . . Might not they be emblematic ? Might not the
upper one typify Cyril? the lower one Hypatia?
and the dead fish between, himself? . . . But
at last the dead-lock was suddenly ended the
fish parted in the middle : and the typical Hypatia
and Cyril, losing hold of their respective seaweeds
by the jerk, tumbled down, each with its half-fish,
and vanished head over heels into the blue depths
in so undignified a manner, that Philammon burst
into a shout of laughter.
" What 's the joke ? " asked a well-known voice
behind him ; and a hand patted him familiarly on
the back. He looked round, and saw the little
porter, his head crowned with a full basket of figs,
grapes, and water-melons, on which the poor youth
cast a longing eye. " Well, my young friend, and
why are you not at church? Look at all the
saints pouring into the Caesareum there, behind
you."
Philammon answered sulkily enough something
inarticulate.
" Ho, ho ! Quarrelled with the successor of the
Apostles already? Has my prophecy come true,
and the strong meat of pious riot and plunder
proved too highly spiced for ,your young palate.
Eh?"
184 Hypatia
Poor Philammon ! Angry with himself for feel-
ing that the porter was right ; shrinking from the
notion of exposing the failings of his fellow-
Christians ; shrinking still more from making such
a jackanapes his confidant: and yet yearning in
his loneliness to open his heart to some one, he
dropped out, hint by hint, word by word, the
events of the past evening, and finished by a
request to be put in the way of earning his
breakfast.
" Earning your breakfast ! Shall the favorite of
the gods shall the guest of Hypatia earn his
breakfast, while I have an obol to share with him?
Base thought ! Youth ! I have wronged you.
Unphilosophically I allowed, yesterday morning,
envy to ruffle the ocean of my intellect. We are
now friends and brothers, in hatred to the monastic
tribe."
" I do not hate them, I tell you," said Philam-
mon. " But these Nitrian savages "
" Are the perfect examples of monkery, and you
hate them; and therefore, all greaters containing
the less, you hate~all less monastic monks I have
not heard logic lectures in vain. Now, up ! The
sea woos our dusty limbs: Nereids and Tritons,
charging no cruel coin, call us to Nature's baths.
At home a mighty sheat-fish smokes upon the
festive board; beer crowns the horn, and onions
deck the dish ; come then, my guest and brother ! "
Philammon swallowed certain scruples about
becoming the guest of a heathen, seeing that
otherwise there seemed no chance of having any-
thing else to swallow; and after a refreshing
plunge in the sea, followed the hospitable little
fellow to Hypatia's door, where he dropped his
The Interview 185
daily load of fruit, and then into a narrow by-street,
to the ground-floor of a huge block of lodgings,
with a common staircase, swarming with children,
cats, and chickens ; and was ushered by his host
into a little room, where the savory smell of broil-
ing fish revived Philammon's heart.
" Judith ! Judith ! where lingerest thou ? Marble
of Pentel'cus ! foam-flake of the wine-dark main !
lily of the Mareotic lake ! You accursed black
Andromeda, if you don't bring the breakfast this
moment, I '11 cut you in two ! "
The inner door opened, and in bustled, trembling,
her hands full of dishes, a tall lithe negress dressed
in true negro fashion, in a snow-white cotton shift,
a scarlet cotton petticoat, and a bright yellow
turban of the same, making a light in that dark
place which would have served as a landmark a
mile off. She put the dishes down, and the porter
majestically waved Philammon to a stool; while
she retreated, and stood humbly waiting on her
lord and master, who did not deign to introduce to
his guest the black beauty which composed his
whole seraglio. . . . But, indeed, such an act of
courtesy would have been needless ; for the first
morsel of fish was hardly safe in poor Philammon's
mouth, when the negress rushed upon him, caught
him by the head, and covered him with rapturous
kisses.
Up jumped the little man with a yell, brandish-
ing a knife in one hand and a leek in the other ;
while Philammon, scarcely less scandalized, jumped
up too, and shook himself free of the lady, who,
finding it impossible to vent her feelings further on
his head, instantly changed her tactics, and, wal-
lowing on the floor, began frantically kissing his feet.
1 86 Hypatia
" What is this? before my face ! Up, shameless
baggage, or thou diest the death ! " and the porter
pulled her up upon her knees.
" It is the monk ! the young man I told you of,
who saved me from the Jews the other night!
What good angel sent him here that I might thank
him ? " cried the poor creature, while the tears ran
down her black shining face.
" I am that good angel," said the porter, with a
look of intense self-satisfaction. " Rise, daughter
of Erebus ; thou art pardoned, being but a female.
What says the poet ?
44 ' Woman is passion's slave, while rightful lord
O'er her and passion, rules the nobler male.'
Youth ! to my arms ! Truly say the philosophers,
that the universe is magical in itself, and by mys-
terious sympathies links like to like. The prophetic
instinct of thy future benefits towards me drew me
to thee as by an invisible warp, hawser, or chain-
cable, from the moment I beheld thee. Thou wert
a kindred spirit, my brother, though thou knewest
it not. Therefore I do not praise thee no, nor
thank thee in the least, though thou hast preserved
for me the one palm which shadows my weary
steps the single lotus-flower (in this case black,
not white) which blooms for me above the mud-
stained ocean-wastes of the Hylic Borboros. That
which thou hast done, thou hast done by instinct
by divine compulsion thou couldst no more
help it than thou canst help eating that fish, and
art no more to be praised for it."
" Thank you," said Philammon.
" Comprehend me. Our theory in the schools
for such cases is this has been so at least for the
The Interview 187
last six months ; similar particles, from one origi-
nal source, exist in you and me. Similar causes
produce similar effects ; our attractions, antipathies,
impulses, are therefore, in similar circumstances,
absolutely the same; and therefore you did the
other night exactly what I should have done in
your case."
Philammon thought the latter part of the theory
open to question, but he had by no means stopped
eating when he rose, and his mouth was much too
full offish to argue.
" And therefore," continued the little man, " we
are to consider ourselves henceforth as one soul in
two bodies. You may have the best of the cor-
poreal part of the division . . . yet it is the soul
which makes the person. You may trust me, I
shall not disdain my brotherhood. If any one
insults you henceforth, you have but to call me ;
and if I be within hearing, why, by this right
arm "
And he attempted a pat on Philammon's head,
which, as there was a head and shoulder's dif-
ference between them, might on the whole have
been considered, from a theatric point of view, as
a failure. Whereon the little man seized the cala-
bash of beer, and filling therewith a cow's horn, his
thumb on the small end, raised it high in the air.
" To the Tenth Muse, and to your interview with
her ! "
And removing his thumb, he sent a steady jet
into his open mouth, and having drained the horn
without drawing breath, licked his lips, handed it
to Philammon, and flew ravenously upon the fish
and onions.
Philammon, to whom the whole was supremely
1 88 Hypatia
absurd, had no invocation to make, but one which
he felt too sacred for his present temper of mind :
so he attempted to imitate the little man's feat,
and, of course, poured the beer into his eyes, and
up his nose, and in his bosom, and finally choked
himself black in the face, while his host observed,
smilingly :
" Aha, rustic ! unacquainted with the ancient
and classical customs preserved in this center of
civilization by the descendants of Alexander's
heroes? Judith! clear the table. Now to the
sanctuary of the Muses ! "
Philammon rose, and finished his meal by a
monkish grace. A gentle and reverend " Amen "
rose from the other end of the room. It was the
negress. She saw him look up at her, dropped her
eyes modestly, and bustled away with the rem-
nants, while Philammon and his host started for
Hypatia's lecture-room.
" Your wife is a Christian? " asked he when they
were outside the door.
" Ahem ! The barbaric mind is prone to
superstition. Yet she is, being but a woman
and a negress, a good soul, and thrifty, though
requiring, like all lower animals, occasional chas-
tisement I married her on philosophic grounds.
A wife was necessary to me, for several' reasons:
but mindful that the philosopher should subjugate
the material appetite, and rise above the swinish
desires of the flesh, even when his nature requires
him to satisfy them, I purposed to make pleasure
as unpleasant as possible. I had the choice of
several cripples their parents, of ancient Mace-
donian family like myself, were by no means
adverse; but I required a housekeeper, with
The Interview 189
whose duties the want of an arm or a leg might
have interfered."
"Why did you not marry a scold?" asked
Philammon.
" Pertinently observed : and indeed the example
of Socrates rose luminous more than once before
my imagination. But philosophic calm, my dear
youth, and the peaceful contemplation of the in-
effable? I could not relinquish those luxuries.
So having, by the bounty of Hypatia and her
pupils, saved a small sum, I went out, bought me
a negress, and hired six rooms in the block we
have just left, where I let lodgings to young
students of the Divine Philosophy."
" Have you any lodgers now? "
" Ahem ! Certain rooms are occupied by a lady
of rank. The philosopher will, above all things,
abstain from babbling. To bridle the tongue, is to
But there is a closet at your service ; and for
the hall of reception, which you have just left
are you not a kindred and fraternal spark ? We can
combine our meals, as our souls are already united.",
Philammon thanked him heartily for the offer,
though he shrank from accepting it; and in ten
minutes more found himself at the door of the
very house which he had been watching the night
before. It was she, then, whom he had seen ! . . .
He was handed over by a black porter to a smart
slave-girl, who guided him up, through cloisters
and corridors, to the large library, where five or
six young men were sitting, busily engaged under
Theon's superintendence, in copying manuscripts
and drawing geometric diagrams.
Philammon gazed curiously at these symbols of
a science unknown to him, and wondered whether
1 90 Hypatia
the day would ever come when he too would
understand their mysteries ; but his eyes fell again
as he saw the youths staring at his ragged sheep-
skin and matted locks with undisguised contempt
He could hardly collect himself enough to obey
the summons of the venerable old man, as he
beckoned him silently out of the room, and led
him, with the titters of the young students ringing
in his ears, through the door by which he had
entered, and along a gallery, till he stopped and
knocked humbly at a door. . . . She must be
within ! . . . Now ! ... At last ! . . . His knees
knocked together under him. His heart sank and
sank into abysses ! Poor wretch ! . . . He was
half-minded once to escape and dash into the
street . . . but was it not his one hope, his
one object? . . . But why did not that old man
speak? If he would have but said something ! . , .
If he would only have 'looked cross, contempt-
uous ! . . . But with the same impressive gravity
as of a man upon a business in which he had no
voice, and wished it to be understood that he had
none, the old man silently opened the door, and
Philammon followed. . . . There she was ! looking
more glorious than ever ; more than when glowing
with the enthusiasm of her own eloquence ; more
than when transfigured last night in golden tresses
and glittering moonbeams. There she sat, without
moving a finger, as the two entered. She greeted
her father with a smile, which made up for all her
seeming want of courtesy to him, and then fixed
her large gray eyes full on Philammon.
" Here is the youth, my daughter. It was your
wish, you know; and I always believe that you
know best "
The Interview 191
Another smile put an end to the speech, and
the old man retreated humbly toward another
door, with a somewhat anxious visage, and then
lingering and looking back, his hand upon the
latch :
" If you require any one, you know, you have
only to call we shall be all in the library."
.Another smile; and the old man disappeared,
leaving the two alone.
Philammon stood trembling, choking, his eyes
fixed on the floor. Where were all the fine things
he had conned over for the occasion? He dared
not look up at that face, lest it should drive them
out of his head. And yet the more he kept his
eyes turned from the face, the more he was conscious
of it, conscious that it was watching him ; and the
more all the fine words were, by that very knowl-
edge, driven out of his head. . . . When would she
speak ? Perhaps she wished him to speak first. It
was her duty to begin : for she had sent for him.
. . . But still she kept silence, and sat scanning
him intently from head to foot, herself as motion-
less as a statue ; her hands folded together before
her, over the manuscript which lay upon her knee.
If there was a blush on her cheek at her own
daring, his eyes swam too much to notice it.
When would the intolerable suspense end ? She
was, perhaps, as unwilling to speak as he. But
some one must strike the first blow ; and, as often
happens, the weaker party, impelled by sheer fear,
struck it, and broke the silence in a tone half
indignant, half apologetic:
" You sent for me hither ! "
"I did. It seemed to me, as I watched you
during my lecture, both before and after you were
192 Hypatia
rude enough to interrupt me, that your offence
was one of mere youthful ignorance. It seemed to
me that your countenance bespoke a nobler nature
than that which the gods are usually pleased to
bestow upon monks. That I may now ascertain
whether or not my surmises were correct, I ask you
for what purpose are you come hither?"
Philammon hailed the question as a godsend.
Now for his message ! And yet he faltered, as he
answered, with a desperate effort: "To rebuke
you for your sins."
"My sins! What sins?", she asked, as she
looked up with a stately, slow surprise in those
large gray eyes, before which his own glance sank
abashed, he knew not why. What sins ? He
knew not. Did she look like a Messalina? But
was she not a heathen and a sorceress ? And yet
he blushed, and stammered, and hung down his
head, as, shrinking at the sound of his own words,
he replied:
" The foul sorceries and profligacy worse than
sorceries, in which, they say " He could get
no farther: for he looked up again and saw an
awful quiet smile upon that face. His words had
raised no blush upon the marble cheek.
" They say ! The bigots and slanderers ; wild
beasts of the desert, and fanatic intriguers, who, in
the words of Him they call their master, compass
heaven and earth to make one proselyte, and when
they have found him, make him twofold more the
child of hell than themselves. Go I forgive you :
you are young, and know not yet the mystery of
the world. Science will teach you some day that
the outward frame is the sacrament of the soul's
inward beauty. Such a soul I had fancied your
The Interview 193
face expressed ; but I was mistaken. Foul hearts
alone harbor such foul suspicions, and fancy
others to be what they know they might become
themselves. Go ! Do I look like ? The very
tapering of these fingers, if you could read their
symbolism, would give your dream the lie." And
she flashed full on him, like sun-rays from a mirror,
the full radiance of her glorious countenance.
Alas, poor Philammon ! where were thy eloquent
arguments, thy orthodox theories then? Proudly
he struggled with his own man's heart of flesh, and
tried to turn his eyes away; the magnet might as
well struggle to escape from the spell of the north.
In a moment, he knew not how, utter shame,
remorse, longing for forgiveness, swept over him,
and crushed him down; and he found himself on
his knees before her, in abject and broken syllables
entreating pardon.
" Go I forgive you. But know before you go,
that the celestial milk which fell from Here's bosom,
bleaching the plant which it touched to everlasting
whiteness, was not more taintless than the soul of
Theon's daughter."
He looked up in her face as he knelt before her.
Unerring instinct told him that her words were
true. He was a monk, accustomed to believe
animal sin to be the deadliest and worst of all sins
indeed, " the great offence " itself, beside which
all others were comparatively venial : where there
was physical purity, must not all other virtues follow
in its wake? All other failings were invisible under
the dazzling veil of that great loveliness ; and in
his self-abasement he went on :
" Oh, do not spurn me ! do not drive me away 1
I have neither friend, home, nor teacher. I fled
J Vol. VI
194 Hypatia
last night from the men of my own faith, maddened
by bitter insult and injustice disappointed and
disgusted with their ferocity, narrowness, ignorance.
I dare not, I cannot, I will not return to the
obscurity and the dulness of a Thebaid Laura. I
have a thousand doubts to solve, a thousand
questions to ask, about that great ancient world of
which I know nothing of whose mysteries, they
say, you alone possess the key ! I am a Christian ;
but I thirst for knowledge. ... I do not promise
to believe you I do not promise to obey you ;
but let me hear ! Teach me what you know, that
I may compare it with what I know. ... If in-
deed " (and he shuddered as he spoke the words)
" I do know anything ! "
" Have you forgotten the epithets which you
used to me just now ? "
" No, no ! But do you forget them ; they were
put into my mouth. I I did not believe them
when I said them. It was agony to me ; but I did
it, as I thought, for your sake to save you. Oh r
say that I may come and hear you again ! Only
from a distance in the very farthest corner of
your lecture-room. I will be silent; you shall
never see me. But your words yesterday awoke in
me no, not doubts ; but still I must, I must hear
more, or be as miserable and homeless inwardly as
I am in my outward circumstances ! " And he
looked up imploringly for consent.
"Rise. This passion and that attitude are fit-
ting neither for you nor me."
And as Philammon rose, she rose also, went into
the library to her father, and in a few minutes
returned with him.
" Come with me, young man," said he, laying
The Interview 195
his hand kindly enough on Philammon's shoulder.
..." The rest of this matter you and I can settle ; "
and Philammon followed him, not daring to look
back at Hypatia, while the whole room swam
before his eyes.
" So, so I hear you have been saying rude
things to my daughter. Well, she has forgiven
you "
"Has she?" asked the young monk, with an
eager start.
" Ah ! you may well look astonished. But I
forgive you too. It is lucky for you, however,
that I did not hear you, or else, old man as I am,
I can't say what I might not have done. Ah !
you little know, you little know what she is ! "
and the old pedant's eyes kindled with loving
pride. " May the gods give you some day such a
daughter ! that is, if you learn to deserve it as
virtuous as she is wise, as wise as she is beautiful.
Truly, they have repaid me for my labors in their
service. Look, young man ! little as you merit
it, here is a pledge of your forgiveness, such as the
richest and noblest in Alexandria are glad to pur-
chase with many an ounce of gold a ticket of
free admission to all her lectures henceforth !
Now go; you have been favored beyond your
deserts, and should learn that the philosopher
can practise what the Christian only preaches,
and return good for evil." And he put into
Philammon's hand a slip of paper, and bid
one of the secretaries show him to the outer
door.
The youths looked up at him from their writing
as he passed, with faces of surprise and awe, and
evidently thinking no more about the absurdity of
1 96 Hypatia
his sheepskin and his tanned complexion ; and he
went out with a stunned, confused feeling, as of
one who, by a desperate leap, has plunged into a
new world. He tried to feel content ; but he dare
not. All before him was anxiety, uncertainty.
He had cut himself adrift ; he was on the great
stream. Whither would it lead him ? Well was
it not the great stream? Had not all mankind,
for all the ages, been floating on it? Or, was it
but a desert-river, dwindling away beneath the
fiery sun, destined to lose itself a few miles on,
among the arid sands? Were Arsenius and the
faith of his childhood right? And was the Old
World coming speedily to its death-throe, and the
Kingdom of God at hand ? Or, was Cyril right,
and the Church Catholic appointed to spread, and
conquer, and destroy, and rebuild, till the kingdoms
of this world had become the kingdoms of God
and of His Christ ! If so, what use in this old
knowledge which he craved? And yet, if the
day of the destruction of all things were at
hand, and the times destined to become worse
and not better, till the end how could that
be? ...
" What news ? " asked the little porter, who had
been waiting for him at the door all the while.
" What news, O favorite of the gods ! "
" I will lodge with you, and labor with
you. Ask me no more at present. I am I
am "
" Those who descended into the Cave of Tro-
phonius, and beheld the unspeakable, remained
astonished for three days, my young friend and
so will you ! " And they went forth together to
earn their bread.
The Interview 197
But what is Hypatia doing all this while, upon
that cloudy Olympus, where she sits enshrined far
above the noise and struggle of man and his work-
day world?
She is sitting again, with her manuscripts open
before her : but she is thinking of the young monk,
not of them.
" Beautiful as Antinous ! . . . Rather as the
young Phoebus himself, fresh glowing from the
slaughter of the Python. Why should not he,
too, become a slayer of Pythons, and loathsome
monsters, bred from the mud of sense and matter?
So bold and earnest ! I can forgive him those
words for the very fact of his having dared, here
in my father's house, to say them to me. . . . And
yet so tender, so open to repentance and noble
shame ! That is no plebeian by birth ; patrician
blood surely flows in those veins ; it shows out in
every attitude, every tone, every motion of the
hand and lip. He cannot be one of the herd.
Who ever knew one of them crave after knowl-
edge for its own sake? . . . And I have longed
so for one real pupil ! I have longed so to find
one such man, among the effeminate selfish triflers
who pretend to listen to me. I thought I had
found one and the moment that I had lost him,
behold, I find another ; and that a fresher, purer,
simpler nature than ever Raphael's was at its best.
By all the laws of physiognomy by all the sym-
bolism of gesture and voice and complexion by
the instinct of my own heart, that young monk
might be the instrument, the ready, valiant, obedi-
ent instrument, for carrying out all my dreams. If
I could but train him into a Longinus, I could
dare to play the part of a Zenobia, with him as
198 Hypatia
counsellor. . . . And for my Odenatus Orestes?
Horrible ! "
She covered her face with her hand a minute.
" No ! " she said, dashing away the tears " That
and anything and everything for the cause of
Philosophy and the gods ! "
CHAPTER XI
THE LAURA AGAIN
NOT a sound, not a moving object, broke the
utter stillness of the glen of Scetis. The
shadows of the crags, though paling every moment
before the spreading dawn, still shrouded all the
gorge in gloom. A winding line of haze slept
above the course of the rivulet. The plumes of
the palm-trees hung motionless, as if awaiting in
resignation the breathless blaze of the approach-
ing day. At length, among the green ridges of
the monastery garden, two gray figures rose from
their knees, and began, with slow and feeble
strokes, to break the silence by the clatter of
their hoes among the pebbles.
" These beans grow wonderfully, brother Aufu-
gus. We shall be able to sow our second crop,
by God's blessing, a week earlier than we did last
year."
The person addressed returned no answer ; and
his companion, after watching him for some time
in silence, recommenced :
"What is it, my brother? I have remarked
lately a melancholy about you, which is hardly
fitting for a man of God."
A deep sigh was the only answer. The speaker
laid down his hoe, and placing his hand affection-
ately on the shoulder of Aufugus, asked again :
2oo Hypatia
" What is it, my friend ? I will not claim with
you my abbot's right to know the secrets of your
heart : but surely that breast hides nothing which
is unworthy to be spoken to me, however un-
worthy I may be to hear it ! "
" Why should I not be sad, Pambo, my friend ?
Does not Solomon say that there is a time for
mourning?"
" True : but a time for mirth also."
' " None to the penitent, burdened with the guilt
of many sins."
" Recollect what the blessed Anthony used to
say : ' Trust not in thine own righteousness, and
regret not that which is past.' "
" I do neither, Pambo."
" Do not be too sure of that. Is it not because
thou art still trusting in thyself, that thou dost
regret the past, which shows thee that thou art
not that which thou wouldst gladly pride thyself
on being?"
" Pambo, my friend," said Arsenius, solemnly,
" I will tell thee all. My sins are not yet past ;
for Honorius, my pupil, still lives, and in him lives
the weakness and the misery of Rome. My sins
past? If they are, why do I see rising before me,
night after night, that train of accusing spectres,
ghosts of men slain in battle, widows and orphans,
virgins of the Lord shrieking in the grasp of bar-
barians, who stand by my bedside and cry, ' Hadst
thou done thy duty, we had not been thus !
Where is that imperial charge which God com-
mitted to thee ? '" . . . And the old man hid his
face in his hands and wept bitterly.
Pambo laid his hand again tenderly on the
weeper's shoulder.
The Laura Again 201
"Is there no pride here, my brother? Who
art thou, to change the fate of nations and the
hearts of emperors, which are in the hand of the
King of kings ; If thou wert weak, and imperfect
in thy work for unfaithful, I will warrant thee,
thou wert never He put thee there, because
thou wert imperfect, that so that which has come
to pass might come to pass; and thou bearest
thine own burden only and yet not thou, but
He who bore it for thee."
" Why then am I tormented by these nightly
visions? "
"Fear them not, friend. They are spirits of
evil, and therefore lying spirits. Were they good
spirits they would speak to thee only in pity, for-
giveness, encouragement. But be they ghosts or
demons, they must be evil, because they are ac-
cusers, like the Evil One himself, the accuser of
the saints. He is the father of lies, and his chil-
dren will be like himself. What said the blessed
Anthony? That a monk should not busy his
brain with painting spectres, or give himself up
for lost ; but rather be cheerful, as one who knows
that he is redeemed, and in the hands of the Lord,
where the Evil One has no power to hurt him.
' For,' he used to say, ' the demons behaved to us
even as they find us. If they see us cast down
and faithless, they terrify us still more, that they
may plunge us in despair. But if they see us
full of faith, and joyful in the Lord, with our souls
filled with the glory which shall be, then they
shrink abashed, and flee away in confusion.'
Cheer up, friend ! such thoughts are of the night,
the hour of Satan and of the powers of darkness ;
and with the dawn they flee away."
2O2 Hypatia
" And yet things are revealed to men upon
their beds, in visions of the night."
"Be it so. Nothing, at all events, has been
revealed to thee upon thy bed, except that which
thou knowest already far better than Satan does,
namely, that thou art a sinner. But for me, my
friend, though I doubt not that such things are,
it is the day, and not the night, which brings
revelations."
"How, then?"
" Because by day I can see to read that book
which is written, like the Law given on Sinai, upon
tables of stone, by the finger of God himself."
Arsenius looked up at him inquiringly. Pambo
smiled.
"Thou knowest that, like many holy men of
old, I am no scholar, and knew not even the Greek
tongue, till thou, out of thy brotherly kindness,
taughtest it to me. But hast thou never heard
what Anthony said to a certain Pagan who re-
proached him with his ignorance of books?
'Which is first,' he asked, 'spirit, or letter?
Spirit, sayest thou? Then know, the healthy
spirit needs no letters. My book is the whole
creation, lying open before me, wherein I can
read, whensoever I please, the word of God.' "
" Dost thou not undervalue learning, my friend ? "
" I am old among monks, and have seen much
of their ways; and among them my simplicity
seems to have seen this many a man wearing
himself with study, and tormenting his soul as
to whether he believed rightly this doctrine and
that, while he knew not with Solomon that in
much learning is much sorrow, and that while he
was puzzling at the letter of God's message, the
The Laura Again 203
spirit of it was going fast and faster out of
him."
"And how didst thou know that of such a
man?"
"By seeing him become a more and more
learned theologian, and more and more zealous
for the letter of orthodoxy ; and yet less and less
loving and merciful less and less full of trust in
God, and of hopeful thoughts for himself and for
his brethren, till he seemed to have darkened his
whole soul with disputations, which breed only
strife, and to have forgotten utterly the message
which is written in that book wherewith the blessed
Anthony was content."
" Of what message dost thou speak ? "
" Look," said the old abbot, stretching his hand
toward the Eastern desert, " and judge, like a wise
man, for thyself! "
As he spoke, a long arrow of level light flashed
down the gorge from crag to crag, awakening
every crack and slab to vividness and life. The
great crimson sun rose swiftly through the dim
night-mist of the desert, and as he poured his
glory down the glen, the haze rose in threads and
plumes, and vanished, leaving the stream to sparkle
round the rocks, like the living, twinkling eye of
the whole scene. Swallows flashed by hundreds
out of the cliffs, and began their air-dance for the
day; the jerboa hopped stealthily homeward on
his stilts from his stolen meal in the monastery
garden; the brown sand-lizards underneath the
stones opened one eyelid each, and having satisfied
themselves that it was day, dragged their bloated
bodies and whip-like tails out into the most burn-
ing patch of gravel which they could find, and
204 Hypatia
nestling together as a further protection against
cold, fell fast asleep again ; the buzzard, who con-
sidered himself lord of the valley, awoke with a
long querulous bark, and rising aloft in two or
three vast rings, to stretch himself after his night's
sleep, hung motionless, watching every lark which
chirruped on the cliffs ; while from the far-off Nile
below, the awakening croak of pelicans, the clang
of geese, the whistle of the godwit and curlew,
came ringing up the windings of the glen; and
last of all the voices of the monks rose chanting a
morning hymn to some wild Eastern air; and a
new day had begun in Scetis, like those which
went before, and those which were to follow after,
week after week, year after year, of toil and prayer
as quiet as its sleep.
" What does that teach thee, Aufugus, my friend ? "
Arsenius was silent.
" To me it teaches this : that God is light, and
in Him is no darkness at all. That in His presence
is life, and fulness of joy for evermore. That He
is the giver, who delights in His own bounty ; the
lover, whose mercy is over all His works and why
not over thee, too, O thou of little faith ? Look at
those thousand birds and without our Father
not one of them shall fall to the ground : and art
thou not of more value than many sparrows, thou
for whom God sent his Son to die ? . . . Ah, my
friend, we must look out and around to see what
God is like. It is when we persist in turning our
eyes inward, and prying curiously over our own
imperfections, that we learn to make a God after
our own image, and fancy that our own darkness
and hardness of heart are the patterns of His light
and love."
The Laura Again 205
" Thou speakest rather as a philosopher than as
a penitent Catholic. For me, I feel that I want to
look more, and not less, inward. Deeper self-
examination, completer abstraction, than I can
attain even here, are what I crave for. I long
forgive me, my friend but I long more and
more, daily, for the solitary life. This earth is
accursed by man's sin: the less we see of it, it
seems to me, the better."
" I may speak as a philosopher, or as a heathen,
for aught I know : yet it seems to me that, as they
say, the 'half loaf is better than none; that the
wise man will make the best of what he has, and
throw away no lesson because the book is some-
what torn and soiled. The earth teaches me thus
far already. Shall I shut my eyes to those in-
visible things of God which are clearly manifested
by the things which are made, because some day
they will be more clearly manifested than now?
But as for more abstraction, are we so worldly here
in Scetis? "
" Nay, my friend, each man has surely his voca-
tion, and for each some peculiar method of life is
more edifying than another. In my case, the
habits of mind which I acquired in the world will
cling to me in spite of myself even here. I cannot
help watching the doings of others, studying their
characters, planning and plotting for them, trying
to prognosticate their future fate. Not a word,
not a gesture of this our little family, but turns
away my mind from the one thing needful."
" And do you fancy that the anchorite in his
cell has fewer distractions ? "
" What can he have but the supply of the mere
necessary wants of life ? and them, even, he may
206 Hypatia
abridge to the gathering of a few roots and herbs.
Men have lived like the beasts already, that they
might at the same time live like the angels and
why should not I also ? "
" And thou art the wise man of the world the
student of the hearts of others the anatomizer of
thine own? Hast thou not found out that, besides
a craving stomach, man carries with him a corrupt
heart? Many a man I have seen who, in his haste
to fly from the fiends without him, has forgotten
to close the door of his heart against worse fiends
who were ready to harbor within him. Many a
monk, friend, changes his place, but not the
anguish of his soul. I have known those who,
driven to feed on their own thoughts in solitude,
have desperately cast themselves from cliffs or
ripped up their own bodies, in the longing to
escape from thoughts, from which one companion,
one kindly voice, might have delivered them. I
have known those, too, who have been so puffed
up by those very penances which were meant to
humble them, that they have despised all means
of grace, as though they were already perfect, and
refusing even the Holy Eucharist, have lived in
self-glorying dreams and visions suggested by the
evil spirits. One such I knew, who, in the mad-
ness of his pride, refused to be counselled by any
mortal man saying that he would call no man
master: and what befell him? He who used to
pride himself on wandering a day's journey into
the desert without food or drink, who boasted that
he could sustain life for three months at a time
only on wild herbs and the Blessed Bread, seized
with an inward fire, fled from his cell back to the
theatres, the circus, and the taverns, and ended
The Laura Again 207
his miserable days in desperate gluttony, holding
all things to be but phantasms, denying his own
existence, and that of God himself."
Arsenius shook his head.
" Be it so. But my case is different. I have yet
more to confess, my friend. Day by day I am
more and more haunted by the remembrance of
that world from which I fled. I know that if I
returned I should feel no pleasure in those pomps,
which, even while I battened on them, I despised.
Can I hear any more the voice of singing men and
singing women ; or discern any longer what I eat
or what I drink ? And yet the palaces of those
seven hills, their statesmen and their generals, their
intrigues, their falls, and their triumphs for they
might rise and conquer yet ! for no moment are
they out of my imagination, no moment in which
they are not tempting me back to them, like a
moth to the candle which has already scorched
him, with a dreadful spell, which I must at last obey,
wretch that I am, against my own will, or break by
fleeing into some outer desert, from whence return
will be impossible ! "
Pambo smiled.
" Again, I say, this is the worldly-wise man, the
searcher of hearts ! And he would fain flee from
the little Laura, which does turn his thoughts at
times from such vain dreams, to a solitude where
he will be utterly unable to escape those dreams.
Well, friend ! and what if thou art troubled at
times by anxieties and schemes for this brother
and for that? Better to be anxious for others than
only for thyself. Better to have something to love
even something to weep over than to become
in some lonely cavern thine own world, perhaps,
208 Hypatia
as more than one whom I have known, thine own
God."
"Do you know what you are saying?" asked
Arsenius in a startled tone.
" I say, that by fleeing into solitude a man cuts
himself off from all which makes a Christian man ;
from law, obedience, fellow-help, self-sacrifice
from the communion of saints itself."
"How then?"
" How canst thou hold communion with those
toward whom thou canst show no love? And
how canst thou show thy love but by works of
love?"
" I can, at least, pray day and night for all man-
kind. Has that no place or rather, has it not
the mightiest place in the communion of saints? "
" He who cannot pray for his brothers whom he
does see, and whose sins and temptations he knows,
will pray but dully, my friend Aufugus, for his
brothers whom he does not see, or for anything
else. And he who will not labor for his brothers,
the same will soon cease to pray for them, or love
them either. And then, what is written ? ' If a
man love not his brother whom he hath seen, how
will he love God whom he hath not seen ? ' "
"Again, I say, do you know whither your
argument leads? "
" I am a plain man, and know nothing about
arguments. If a thing be true, let it lead where it
will, for it leads where God wills."
" But at this rate, it were better for a man to take
a wife, and have children, and mix himself up in all
the turmoil of carnal affections, in order to have as
many as possible to love, and fear for, and work
for."
The Laura Again 209
Pambo was silent for a while.
" I am a monk and no logician. But this I say,
that thou leavest not the Laura for the desert with
my good will. I would rather, had I my wish, see
thy wisdom installed somewhere nearer the metrop-
olis at Troe or Canopus, for example where
thou mighest be at hand to fight the Lord's battles.
Why wert thou taught worldly wisdom, but to use
it for the good of the Church? It is enough. Let
us go."
And the two old men walked homeward across
the valley, little guessing the practical answer which
was ready for their argument in Abbot Pambo's
cell, in the shape of a tall and grim ecclesiastic, who
was busily satisfying his hunger with dates and
millet, and by no means refusing the palm-wine,
the sole delicacy of the monastery, which had been
brought forth only in honor of a guest.
The stately and courteous hospitality of Eastern
manners, as well as the self- restraining kindliness
of monastic Christianity, forbade the abbot to
interrupt the stranger ; and it was not till he had
finished a hearty meal that Pambo asked his name
and errand.
" My unworthiness is called Peter the Reader.
I come from Cyril, with letters and messages to the
brother Aufugus."
Pambo rose, and bowed reverentially.
" We have heard your good report, sir, as of one
zealously affected in the cause of the Church
Catholic. Will it please you to follow us to the
cell of Aufugus?"
Peter stalked after them with a sufficiently im-
portant air to the little hut, and there taking from
his bosom Cyril's epistle, handed it to Arsenius,
210 Hypatia
who sat long, reading and re-reading with a
clouded brow, while Pambo watched him with
simple awe, not daring to interrupt by a question
lucubrations which he considered of unfathomable
depth.
" These are indeed the last days," said Arsenius,
at length, " spoken of by the prophet, when many
shall run to and fro. So Heraclian has actually
sailed for Italy?"
" His armament was met on the high seas by
Alexandrian merchantmen, three weeks ago."
"And Orestes hardens his heart more and
more ? "
" Ay, Pharaoh that he is ; or rather, the heathen
woman hardens it for him."
" I always feared that woman above all the
schools of the heathen," said Arsenius. " But the
Count Heraclian, whom I always held for the
wisest as well as the most righteous of men !
Alas ! alas ! what virtue will withstand, when
ambition enters the heart ! "
" Fearful, truly," said Peter, " is that same lust
of power: but for him, I have never trusted him
since he began to be indulgent to those Donatists."
"Too true. So does one sin beget another."
"And I consider that indulgence to sinners is
the worst of all sins whatsoever."
"Not of all, surely, reverend sir?" said Pambo,
humbly. But Peter, taking no notice of the inter-
ruption, went on to Arsenius :
" And now, what answer am I to bear back
from your wisdom to his holiness?"
" Let me see let me see. He might it
needs consideration I ought to know more of
the state of parties. He has, of course, communi-
The Laura Again 211
cated with the African bishops, and tried to unite
them with him ? "
" Two months ago. But the stiff-necked schis-
matics are still jealous of him, and hold aloof."
" Schismatics is too harsh a term, my friend.
But has he sent to Constantinople?"
" He needs a messenger accustomed to courts.
It was possible, he thought, that your experience
might undertake the mission."
" Me ? Who am I ? Alas ! alas ! fresh tempta-
tion daily ! Let him send by the hand of whom
he will. . . . And yet were I at least in
Alexandria I might advise from day to day. . . .
I should certainly see my way clearer. . . . And
unforeseen chances might arise, too. . . . Pambo,
my friend, thinkest thou that it would be sinful to
obey the Holy Patriarch ? "
" Aha ! " said Pambo, laughing, " and thou art
he who was for fleeing into the desert an hour
agone ! And now, when once thou smellest the
battle afar off, thou art pawing in the valley, like
the old war-horse. Go, and God be with thee !
Thou wilt be none the worse for it. Thou art too
old to fall in love, too poor to buy a bishopric,
and too righteous to have one given thee."
" Art thou in earnest? "
" What did I say to thee in the garden ? Go,
and see our son, and send me news of him."
" Ah ! shame on my worldly-mindedness ! I had
forgotten all this time to inquire for him. How is
the youth, reverend sir? "
" Whom do you mean? "
" Philammon, our spiritual son, whom we sent
down to you three months ago," said Pambo.
" Risen to honor he is, by this time, I doubt not?"
2 1 2 Hypatia
"He? He is gone!"
"Gone?"
" Ay, the wretch, with the curse of Judas on
him. He had not been with us three days before
he beat me openly in the patriarch's court, cast off
the Christian faith, and fled away to the heathen
woman, Hypatia, of whom he is enamoured."
The two old men looked at each other with
blank and horror-stricken faces.
"Enamoured of Hypatia?" said Arsenius, at
last.
" It is impossible ! " sobbed Pambo. " The boy
must have been treated harshly, unjustly? Some
one has wronged him, and he was accustomed
only to kindness, and could not bear it. Cruel
men that you are, and unfaithful stewards. The
Lord will require the child's blood at your
hands ! "
" Ay," said Peter, rising fiercely, " that is the
world's justice ! Blame me, blame the patriarch,
blame any and every one but the sinner. As if
a hot head and a hotter heart were not enough to
explain it all ! As if a young fool had never before
been bewitched by a fair face ? "
" Oh, my friends, my friends," cried Arsenius,
" why revile each other without cause ? I, I only
am to blame. I advised you, Pambo ! I sent
him I ought to have known what was I doing,
old worldling that I am, to thrust the poor inno-
cent forth into the temptations of Babylon? This
comes of all my schemings and my plottings !
And now his blood will be on my head as if I
had not sins enough to bear already, I must go
and add this over and above all, to sell my own
Joseph, the son of my old age, to the Midianites !
The Laura Again 2 1 3
Here, I will go with you now at once I will
not rest till I find him, clasp his knees till he pities
my gray hairs! Let Heraclian and Orestes go
their way for aught I care I will find him, I say.
O Absalom, my son ! would to God I had died
for thee, my son ! my son ! "
CHAPTER XII
THE BOWER OF ACRASIA
house which Pelagia and the Amal had
. hired after their return to Alexandria, was
one of the most splendid in the city. They had
been now living there three months or more, and
in that time Pelagia's taste had supplied the little
which it needed to convert it into a paradise of
lazy luxury. She herself was wealthy; and her
Gothic guests, overburdened with Roman spoils,
the very use of which they could not understand,
freely allowed her and her nymphs to throw away
for them the treasures which they had won in many
a fearful right. What matter? If they had enough
to eat, and more than enough to drink, how could
the useless surplus of their riches be better spent
than in keeping their ladies in good humor? . . .
And when it was all gone . . . they would go
somewhere or other who cared whither ? and
win more. The whole world was before them
waiting to be plundered, and they would fulfil their
mission, whensoever it suited them. In the mean-
time they were in no hurry. Egypt furnished in
profusion every sort of food which could gratify
palates far more nice than theirs. And as for wine
few of them went to bed sober from one week's
end to another. Could the souls of warriors have
more, even in the halls of Valhalla?
So thought the party who occupied the inner
court of the house, one blazing afternoon in the
The Bower of Acrasia 215
same week in which Cyril's messenger had so
rudely broken in on the repose of the Scetis.
Their repose, at least, was still untouched. The
great city roared without; Orestes plotted, and
Cyril, counterplotted, and the fate of a continent
hung or seemed to hang trembling in the
balance ; but the turmoil of it no more troubled
those lazy Titans within, than did the roll and
rattle of the carriage-wheels disturb the parrakeets
and sunbirds which peopled, under an awning of
gilded wire, the inner court of Pelagia's house.
Why should they fret themselves with it all ? What
was every fresh riot, execution, conspiracy, bank-
ruptcy, but a sign that the fruit was growing
ripe for the plucking ? Even Heraclian's rebellion,
and Orestes's suspected conspiracy, were to the
younger and coarser Goths a sort of child's play,
at which they could look on and laugh, and bet,
from morning till night ; while to the more cunning
heads, such as Wulf and Smid, they were but signs
of the general rottenness new cracks in those
great walls over which they intended, with a simple
and boyish consciousness of power, to mount to
victory when they chose.
And in the meantime, till the right opening
offered, what was there better than to eat, drink,
and sleep? And certainly they had chosen a
charming retreat in which to fulfil that lofty mis-
sion. Columns of purple and green porphyry,
among which gleamed the white limbs of delicate
statues, surrounded a basin of water, fed by a per-
petual jet, which sprinkled with cool spray the
leaves of the oranges and mimosas, mingling its
murmurs with the warblings of the tropic birds
which nestled among the branches.
2 1 6 Hypatia
On one side of the fountain, under the shade of a
broad-leaved palmetto, lay the Amal's mighty limbs,
stretched out on cushions, his yellow hair crowned
with vine-leaves, his hand grasping a golden cup,
which had been won from Indian Rajahs by Par-
thian Chosroos, from Chosroos by Roman generals,
from Roman generals by the heroes of sheepskin and
horsehide ; while Pelagia, by the side of the sleepy
Hercules-Dionysos, lay leaning over the brink of
the fountain, lazily dipping her fingers into the
water, and basking, like the gnats which hovered
over its surface, in the mere pleasure of existence.
On the opposite brink of the basin, tended each
by a dark-eyed Hebe, who filled the wine-cups,
and helped now and then to empty them, lay the
especial friends and companions in arms of the
Amal, Goderic the son of Ermenric, and Agilmund
the son of Cniva, who both, like the Amal, boasted
a descent from gods ; and last, but not least, that
most important and all but sacred personage, Smid
the son of Troll, reverenced for cunning beyond
the sons of men ; for not only could he make and
mend all matters, from a pontoon bridge to a gold
bracelet, shoe horses and doctor them, charm all
diseases out of man and beast, carve runes, inter-
pret war-omens, foretell weather, raise the winds,
and, finally, conquer in the battle of mead-horns
all except Wulf the son of Ovida; but he had
actually, during a sojourn among the half-civilized
Maesogoths, picked up a fair share of Latin and
Greek, and a rough knowledge of reading and
writing.
A few yards off lay old Wulf upon his back, his
knees in the air, his hands crossed behind his head,
keeping up, even in his sleep, a half-conscious com-
The Bower of Acrasia 217
ment of growls on the following intellectual conver-
sation :
" Noble wine this, is it not? "
" Perfect. Who bought it for us? "
"Old Miriam bought it, at some great tax-
farmer's sale. The fellow was bankrupt, and
Miriam said she got it for the half what it was
worth."
" Serve the penny-turning rascal right. The old
vixen-fox took care, I '11 warrant her, to get her
profit out of the bargain."
" Never mind if she did. We can afford to pay
like men, if we earn like men."
" We sha'n't afford it long, at this rate," growled
Wulf.
" Then we '11 go and earn more. I am tired of
doing nothing."
" People need not do nothing, unless they
choose," said Goderic. " Wulf and I had coursing
fit for a king, the other morning on the sand-hills.
I had had no appetite for a week before, and I
have been as sharp-set as a Danube pike ever
since."
" Coursing? What, with those long-legged
brush-tailed brutes, like a fox upon stilts, which
the prefect cozened you into buying."
" All I can say is, that we put up a herd of those
what do they call them here deer with goat's
horns?"
"Antelopes?"
" That 's it and the curs ran into them as a
falcon does into a skein of ducks. Wulf and I
galloped and galloped over those accursed sand-
heaps till the horses stuck fast; and when they got
their wind again, we found each pair of dogs with
K Vol. VI
2 1 8 Hypatia
a deer down between them and what can man
want more, if he cannot get fighting? You eat
them, so you need not sneer."
" Well, dogs are the only things worth having,
then, that this Alexandria does produce."
" Except fair ladies ! " put in one of the girls.
" Of course. I '11 except the women. But the
men "
" The what? I have not seen a man since I came
here, except a dock-worker or two priests and
fine gentlemen they are all and you don't call
them men, surely?"
" What on earth do they do, beside riding don-
keys?"
" Philosophize, they say."
"What's that?"
" I 'm sure I don't know ; some sort of slave's
quill-driving, I suppose."
" Pelagia ! do you know what philosophizing
is?"
No and I don't care."
"I do," quoth Agilmund, with a look of superior
wisdom ; " I saw a philosopher the other day."
" And what sort of thing was it? "
" I '11 tell you. I was walking down the great
street there, going to the harbor; and I saw a
crowd of boys men they call them here going
into a large doorway. So I asked one of them
what was doing, and the fellow, instead of answer-
ing me, pointed at my legs, and set all the other
monkeys laughing. So I boxed his ears, and he
tumbled down."
" They all do so here, if you box their ears," said
the Amal, meditatively, as if he had hit upon a great
inductive law.
The Bower of Acrasia 2 1 9
" Ah," said Pelagia, looking up with her most
winning smile, " they are not such giants as you,
who make a poor little woman feel like a gazelle in
the lion's paw ! "
" Well it struck me that, as I spoke in Gothic,
the boy might not have understood me, being a
Greek. So I walked in at the door, to save
questions, and see for myself. And there a fellow
held out his hand I suppose for money. So I
gave him two or three gold pieces, and a box on
the ear, at which he tumbled down of course, but
seemed very well satisfied. So I walked in."
" And what did you see ? "
" A great hall, large enough for a thousand
heroes, full of these Egyptian rascals scribbling
with pencils on tablets. And at the farther end of
it the most beautiful woman I ever saw with right
fair hair and blue eyes, talking, talking I could
not understand it; but the donkey-riders seemed
to think it very fine; for they went on looking
first at her, and then at their tablets, gaping like
frogs in drought. And, certainly, she looked as
fair as the sun, and talked like an Alruna-wife.
Not that I knew what it was about, but one can see
somehow, you know. So I fell asleep ; and when
I woke, and came out, I met some one who under-
stood me, and he told me that it was the famous
maiden, the great philosopher. And that's what
I know about philosophy."
" She was very much wasted, then, on such soft-
handed starvelings. Why don't she marry some
hero?"
" Because there are none here to marry," said
Pelagia ; " except some who are fast netted, I
fancy, already."
22O Hypatia
" But what do they talk about, and tell people to
do, these philosophers, Pelagia? "
" Oh, they don't tell any one to do anything,
at least, if they do nobody ever does it, as far
as I can see; but they talk about suns and
stars, and right and wrong, and ghosts and
spirits, and that sort of thing; and about not
enjoying oneself too much. Not that I ever
saw that they were any happier than any one
else."
" She must have been an Alruna-maiden," said
Wulf, half to himself.
"She is a very conceited creature, and I hate
her," said Pelagia.
" I believe you," said Wulf.
" What is an Alruna-maiden ? " asked one of the
girls.
" Something as like you as a salmon is like a
horse-leech. Heroes, will you hear a saga?"
" If it is a cool one," said Agilmund ; " about
ice, and pine-trees, and snow-storms. I shall be
roasted brown in three days more."
" Oh," said the Amal, " that we were on the Alps
again for only two hours, sliding down those snow-
slopes on our shields, with the sleet whistling about
our ears ! That was sport ! "
"To those who could keep their seat," said
Goderic. "Who went head over heels into a
glacier-crack, and was dug out of fifty feet of snow,
and had to be put inside a fresh-killed horse before
he could be brought to life ? "
" Not you, surely," said Pelagia. " Oh, you won-
derful creature! what things you have done and
suffered ! "
"Well," said the Amal, with a look of stolid self-
The Bower of Acrasia 221
satisfaction, "I suppose I have seen a good deal in
my time, eh ? "
"Yes, my Hercules, you have gone through your
twelve labors, and saved your poor little Hesione
after them all, when she was chained to the rock,
for the ugly sea-monsters to eat; and she will
cherish you, and keep you out of scrapes now, for
her own sake ; " and Pelagia threw her arms round
the great bull-neck, and drew it down to her.
" Will you hear my saga ? " said Wulf, impa-
tiently.
" Of course we will," said the Amal ; " any-
thing to pass the time."
" But let it be about snow," said Agilmund.
" Not about Alruna-wives ? "
" About them, too," said Goderic ; " my mother
was one, so I must needs stand up for them."
" She was, boy. Do you be her son. Now
hear, Wolves of the Goths ! "
And the old man took up his little lute, or as
he would probably have called it, "fidel," and
began chanting, to his own accompaniment.
Over the camp fires
Drank I with heroes,
Under the Donau bank
Warm in the snow-trench,
Sagamen heard I there,
Men of the Longbeards,
Cunning and ancient,
H oney-sweet-voiced.
Scaring the wolf-cub,
Scaring the horn-owl out,
Shaking the snow-wreaths
Down from the pine-bough8| .
Up to the star-roof
Rang out their song.
Singing how Winil men
222 Hypatia
Over the icefloes
Sledging from Scanland on
Came unto Scoring ;
Singing of Gambara
Freya's beloved.
Mother of Ayo,
Mother of Ibor.
Singing of Wendel men,
Ambri and Assi ;
How to the Winilfolk
Went they with war-words
** Few are ye, strangers,
And many are we ;
Pay us now toll and fee,
Clothyarn, and rings, and beeves |
Else at the raven's meal
Bide the sharp bill's doom."
Clutching the dwarfs' work then,
Clutching the bullock's shell,
Girding gray iron on,
Forth fared the Winils all,
Fared the Alruna's sons,
Ayo and Ibor.
Mad of heart stalked they:
Loud wept the women all,
Loud the Alruna-wife ;
Sore was their need.
Out of the morning land,
Over the snowdrifts,
Beautiful Freya came,
Tripping to Scoring.
White were the moorlands,
And frozen before her ;
But green were the moorland*,
And blooming behind her,
Out of her golden locks
Shaking the spring flowers,
Out of her garments
Shaking the south wind,
Around in the birches
The Bower of Acrasia 223
Awaking the throstles,
And making chaste housewives all
Long for their heroes home,
Loving and love-giving,
Came she to Scoring.
Came unto Gambara,
Wisest of Valas
44 Vala, why weepest thou !
Far in the wide-blue,
High up in the Elfin-home,
Heard I thy weeping."
44 Stop not my weeping,
Till one can fight seven.
Sons have I, heroes tall,
First in the sword-play ;
This day at the Wendels' hands
Eagles must tear them ;
While their mothers, thrall-weary,
Must grind for the Wendels."
Wept the Alruna-wife ;
Kissed her fair Freya
* Far off in the morning land
High in Valhalla,
A window stands open,
Its sill is the snow-peaks,
Its posts are the water-spouts
Storm-rack its lintel,
Gold cloud-flakes above it
Are piled for the roofing.
Far up to the Elfin-home,
High in the wide-blue.
Smiles out each morning thence
Odin Allfather ;
From under the cloud-eaves,
Smiles out on the heroes,
Smiles out on chaste housewives all*
Smiles on the brood-mares,
Smiles on the smith's work:
And theirs is the sword-luck,
With them is the glory
So Odin hath sworn it
224 Hypatia
Who first in the morning
Shall meet him and greet him.**
Still the Alruna wept
M Who then shall greet him ?
Women alone are here :
Far on the moorlands
Behind the war-lindens,
In vain for the bill's doom
Watch Winil heroes all,
One against seven."
Sweetly the Queen laughed
44 Hear thou my counsel now ;
Take to thee cunning.
Beloved of Freya.
Take thou thy women-folk,
Maidens and wives :
Over your ankles
Lace on the white war-hose ;
Over your bosoms
Link up the hard mailnets ;
Over your lips
Plait Jong tresses with cunning ;
So war-beasts full-bearded
King Odin shall deem you,
When off the gray sea-beach
At sunrise ye greet him;"
Night's son was driving
His golden-haired horses up.
Over the Eastern firths
High flashed their manes.
Smiled from the cloud-eaves out
Allfather Odin,
Waiting the battle-sport :
Freya stood by him.
M Who are these heroes tall
Lusty-limbed Longbeards ?
Over the swans' bath
Why cry they to me ?
Bones should be crashing fast,
Wolves should be full-fed,
The Bower of Acrasia 225
Where'er such, mad-hearted,
Swing hands in the sword-play."
Sweetly laughed Freya
" A name thou hast given them
Shames neither thee nor them,
Well can they wear it.
Give them the victory,
First have they greeted thee ;
Give them the victory,
Yokefellow mine !
Maidens and wives are these
Wives of the Winils ;
Few are their heroes
And far on the war-road,
So over the swans' bath
They cry unto thee."
Royally laughed he then ;
Dear was that craft to him,
Odin Allfather,
Shaking the clouds.
" Cunning are women all,
Bold and importunate !
Longbeards their name shall be,
Ravens shall thank them :
Where the women are heroes,
What must the men be like ?
Theirs is the victory ;
No need of me 1 " x
" There ! " said Wulf, when the song was ended ;
" is that cool enough for you? "
" Rather too cool ; eh, Pelagia? " said the Amal,
laughing.
" Ay," went on the old man, bitterly enough,
" such were your mothers ; and such were your
sisters ; and such your wives must be, if you in-
1 This punning legend may be seen in Paul Warnefrid's Gesta
Langobardorum. The metre and language are intended a* im-
itations of those of the earlier Eddaic poems.
226 Hypatia
tend to last much longer on the face of the earth
women who care for something better than
good eating, strong drinking, and soft lying."
"All very true, Prince Wulf," said Agilmund,
" but I don't like the saga after all. It was a great
deal too like what Pelagia here says those philos-
ophers talk about right and wrong, and that
sort of thing."
" I don't doubt it."
" Now I like a really good saga, about gods and
giants, and the fire kingdoms and the snow king-
doms, and the JEslr making men and women out
of two sticks, and all that."
" Ay," said the Amal, " something like nothing
one ever saw in one's life, all stark mad and topsy-
turvy, like one's dreams when one has been drunk ;
something grand which you cannot understand,
but which sets you thinking over it all the morn-
ing after."
" Well," said Goderic, " my mother was an
Alruna-woman, so I will not be the bird to foul its
own nest. But I like to hear about wild beasts
and ghosts, ogres, and fire-drakes, and nicors
something that one could kill if one had a chance,
as one's fathers had."
" Your fathers would never have killed nicors,"
said Wulf, " if they had been "
" Like us I know," said the Amal. " Now
tell me, prince, you are old enough to be our
father; and did you ever see a nicer?"
" My brother saw one, in the Northern sea, three
fathoms long, with the body of a bison-bull, and
the head of a cat, and the beard of a man, and
tusks an ell long lying down on its breast, watching
for the fishermen ; and he struck it with an arrow,
The Bower of Acrasia 227
so that it fled to the bottom of the sea, and never
came up again."
" What is a nicor, Agilmund ? " asked one of the
girls.
" A sea-devil who eats sailors. There used to
be plenty of them where our fathers came from,
and ogres too, who came out of the fens into the
hall at night, when the warriors were sleeping, to
suck their blood, and steal along, and steal along,
and jump upon you so ! "
Pelagia, during the saga, had remained looking
into the fountain, and playing with the water-drops,
in assumed indifference. Perhaps it was to hide
burning blushes, and something very like two hot
tears, which fell unobserved into the ripple. Now
she looked up suddenly :
" And of course you have killed some of these
dreadful creatures, Amalric ? "
" I never had such good luck, darling. Our
forefathers were in such a hurry with them, that by
the time we were born, there was hardly one left."
" Ay, they were men," growled Wulf.
" As for me," went on the Amal, " the biggest
thing I ever killed was a snake in the Donau fens.
How long was he, prince? You had time to see,
for you sat eating your dinner and looking on,
while he was trying to crack my bones."
" Four fathom," answered Wulf.
" With a wild bull lying by him, which he had
just killed. I spoilt his dinner, eh, Wulf? "
" Yes/' said the old grumbler, mollified, " that
,was a right good fight."
i "Why don't you make a saga about it, then,
instead of about right and wrong, and such
things?"
228 Hypatia
" Because I am turned philosopher. I shall go
and hear that Alruna-maiden this afternoon."
" Well said. Let us go too, young men : it will
pass the time, at all events."
" Oh, no ! no ! no ! do not 1 you shall not ! "
almost shrieked Pelagia.
" Why not, then, pretty one? "
" She is a witch she I will never love you
again if you dare to go. Your only reason is that
Agilmund's report of her beauty."
" So ? You are afraid of my liking her golden
locks better than your black ones ? "
" I ? Afraid ? " And she leapt up, panting with
pretty rage. " Come, we will go too at once
and brave this nun, who fancies herself too wise to
speak to a woman, and too pure to love a man !
Look out my jewels ! Saddle my white mule !
We will go royally. We will not be ashamed of
Cupid's livery, my girls saffron shawl and all !
Come, and let us see whether saucy Aphrodite is
not a match after all for Pallas Athene and her
owl ! "
And she darted out of the cloister.
The three younger men burst into a roar of
laughter, while Wulf looked with grim approval.
" So you want to go and hear the philosopher,
Prince ? " said Smid.
" Wheresoever a holy and a wise woman speaks,
a warrior need not be ashamed of listening. Did
not Alaric bid us spare the nuns in Rome, com-
rade? And though I am no Christian as he was,
I thought it no shame for Odin's man to take their
blessing ; nor will I to take this one's, Smid, son
of Troll."
CHAPTER XHI
THE BOTTOM OF THE ABYSS
TT ERE am I, at last ! " said Raphael Aben-
JL JL Ezra to himself. " Fairly and safely landed
at the very bottom of the bottomless ; disporting
myself on the firm floor of the primeval nothing, and
finding my new element, like boys when they begin
to swim, not so impracticable after all. No man,
angel, or demon, can this day cast it in my teeth
that I am weak enough to believe or disbelieve
any phenomenon or theory in or concerning heaven
or earth; or even that any such heaven, earth,
phenomena, or theories exist or otherwise. . . .
1 trust that is a sufficiently exhaustive statement of
my opinions? ... I am certainly not dogmatic
enough to deny or to assert either that there
are sensations ... far too numerous for comfort
. . . but as for proceeding any further, by induc-
tion, deduction, analysis, or synthesis, I utterly
decline the office of Arachne, and will spin no
more cobwebs out of my own inside if I have
any. Sensations? What are they, but parts of
oneself if one has a self! What put this child's
fancy into one's head, that there is anything out-
side of one which produces them ? You have ex-
actly similar feelings in your dreams, and you
know that there is no reality corresponding to
them No, you don't ! How dare you be dog-
matic enough to affirm that? Why should not
your dreams be as real as your waking thoughts?
230 Hypatia
Why should not your dreams be the reality, and
your waking thoughts the dream? What matter
which ?
" What matter, indeed ? Here have I been
staring for years unless that, too, is a dream,
which it very probably is at every mountebank
' ism ' which ever tumbled and capered on the
philosophic tight-rope ; and they are every one of
them dead dolls, wooden, worked with wires, which
are petitiones principii. . . . Each philosopher
begs the question in hand, and then marches for-
ward, as brave as a triumph, and prides himself
on proving it all afterwards. No wonder that his
theory fits the universe, when he has first clipped
the universe to fit his theory. Have I not tried
my hand at many a one starting, too, no one
can deny, with the very minimum of clipping, . . .
for I suppose one cannot begin lower than at
simple ' I am I ' . . . unless which is equally
demonstrable at ' I am not I.' I recollect or
dream that I offered that sweet dream, Hypatia,
to deduce all things in Heaven and earth, from the
Astronomies of Hipparchus to the number of
plumes in an archangel's wing, from that one
simple proposition, if she would but write me out
a demonstration of it first, as some sort of TTOU orw
for the apex of my inverted pyramid. But she
disdained, . . . people are apt to disdain what
they know they cannot do. . . . ' It was an axiom/
it was, 'like one and one making two.' ... How
cross the sweet dream was, at my telling her that
I did not consider that any axiom either, and that
one thing and one thing seeming to us to be two
things, was no more proof that they really were
two, and not three hundred and sixty-five, than a
The Bottom of the Abyss 231
man seeming to be an honest man, proved him not
to be a rogue ; and at my asking her, moreover,
when she appealed to universal experience, how
she proved that the combined folly of all fools
resulted in wisdom !
" ' I am I ' an axiom, indeed ! What right have
I to say that I am not any one else? How do I
know it ! How do I know that there is any one
else for me not to be ? I, or rather something, feel
a number of sensations, longings, thoughts, fancies
the great devil take them all fresh ones every
moment, and each at war tooth and nail with all
the rest; and then on the strength of this infinite
multiplicity and contradiction, of which alone I
am aware, I am to be illogical enough to stand up,
and say, ' I by myself I ; ' and swear stoutly that
I am one thing, when all I am conscious of is the
devil only knows how many things. Of all quaint
deductions from experience, that is the quaintest !
Would it not be more philosophical to conclude
that I, who never saw or felt or heard this which I
call myself, am what I have seen, heard, and felt,
and no more and no less that sensation which
I call that horse, that dead man, that jackass, those
forty thousand two-legged jackasses who appear
to be running for their lives below there, having
got hold of this same notion of their being one
thing each as I choose to fancy in my foolish
habit of imputing to them the same disease of
thought which I find in myself crucify the word !
The folly of my ancestors if I ever had any
prevents my having any better expression. . . .
Why should I not be all I feel that sky, those
clouds the whole universe? Hercules! what a
creative genius my sensorium must be ! I '11 take
232 Hypatia
to writing poetry a mock-epic, in seventy-two
books, entitled ' The Universe ; or, Raphael Aben-
Ezra; ' and take Homer's Margites for my model.
Homer's? Mine! Why must not the Margites,
like everything else, have been a sensation of my
own ? Hypatia used to say Homer's poetry was a
part of her . . . only she could not prove it ...
but I have proved that the Margites is a part of
me . . . not that I believe my own proof scepti-
cism forbid ! Oh, would to heaven that the said
whole disagreeable universe were annihilated, if it
were only just to settle by fair experiment whether
any of master ' I ' remained when they were gone !
Buzzard and dogmatist ! And how do you know
that that would settle it? And if it did why
need it be settled? . . .
" I dare say there is an answer pat for all this.
I could write a pretty one myself in half an hour.
But then I should not believe it ... nor the
rejoinder to that . . . nor the demurrer to that
again. ... So ... I am both sleepy and hungry
... or rather, sleepiness and hunger are me.
Which is it? Heigh-ho ..." and Raphael fin-
ished his meditation by a mighty yawn.
This hopeful oration was delivered in a fitting
lecture-room. Between the bare walls of a doleful
fire-scarred tower in the Campagna of Rome,
standing upon a knoll of dry brown grass, ringed
with a few grim pines, blasted and black with
smoke ; there sat Raphael Aben-Ezra, working out
the last formula of the great world problem
" Given Self; to find God." Through the doorless
stone archway he could see a long vista of the
plain below, covered with broken trees, trampled
crops, smoking villas, and all the ugly scars of
The Bottom of the Abyss 233
recent war, far onward to the quiet purple moun-
tains and the silver sea, towards which struggled,
far in the distance, long dark lines of moving
specks, flowing together, breaking up, stopping
short, recoiling back to surge forward by some
fresh channel, while now and then a glitter of keen
white sparks ran through the dense black masses.
. . . The Count of Africa had thrown for the
empire of the world and lost.
" Brave old Sun ! " said Raphael, " how merrily
he flashes off the sword-blades yonder, and never
cares that every tiny sparkle brings a death-shriek
after it! Why should he? It is no concern of
his. Astrologers are fools. His business is to
shine; and on the whole, he is one of my few
satisfactory sensations. How now? This is ques-
tionably pleasant ! "
As he spoke, a column of troops came marching
across the field, straight towards his retreat.
" If these new sensations of mine find me here,
they will infallibly produce in me a new sensation,
which will render all further ones impossible. . . .
Well? What kinder thing could they do for me?
. . . Ay but how do I know that they would do
it? What possible proof is there that if a two-
legged phantasm pokes a hard iron-gray phantasm
in among my sensations, those sensations will be
my last ? Is the fact of my turning pale, and lying
still, and being in a day or two converted into
crow's flesh, any reason why I should not feel?
And how do I know that would happen? It seems
to happen to certain sensations of my eyeball
or something else who cares ? which I call sol-
diers; but what possible analogy can there be
between what seems to happen to those single
234 Hypatia
sensations called soldiers, and what may or may
not really happen to all my sensations put together,
which I call me ? Should I bear apples if a phan-
tasm seemed to come and plant me? Then why
should I die if another phantasm seemed to come
and poke me in the ribs?
" Still I don't intend to deny it ... I am no
dogmatist. Positively the phantasms are marching
straight for my tower ! Well, it may be safer to
run away, on the chance. But as for losing feeling,"
continued he, rising and cramming a few mouldy
crusts into his wallet, " that, like everything else,
is past proof. Why if now, when I have some
sort of excuse for fancying myself one thing in one
place, I am driven mad with the number of my
sensations, what will it be when I am eaten, and
turned to dust, and undeniably many things in
many places. . . . Will not the sensations be
multiplied by unbearable ! I would swear at the
thought, if I had anything to swear by ! To be
transmuted into the sensoria of forty different nasty
carrion crows, besides two or three foxes, and a
large black beetle ! I '11 run away, just like any-
body else ... if anybody existed. Come, Bran ! "
" Bran ! where are you ; unlucky inseparable
sensation of mine? Picking up a dinner already
off these dead soldiers? Well, the pity is that
this foolish contradictory taste of mine, while it
makes me hungry, forbids me to follow your
example. Why am I to take lessons from my
soldier-phantasms, and not from my canine one?
Illogical ! Bran ! Bran ! " and he went out and
whistled in vain for the dog.
" Bran ! unhappy phantom, who will not vanish
The Bottom of the Abyss 235
by night or day, lying on my chest even in dreams ;
and who would not even let me vanish, and solve
the problem though I don't believe there is any
why did you drag me out of the sea there at
Ostia? Why did you not let me become a whole
shoal of crabs? How did you know, or I either,
that they may not be very jolly fellows, and not in
the least troubled with philosophic doubts? . . .
But perhaps there were no crabs, but only phan-
tasms of crabs. . . . And, on the other hand, if the
crab-phantasms give jolly sensations, why should
not the crow-phantasms? So whichever way it
turns out, no matter ; and I may as well wait here,
and seem to become crows, as I certainly shall do.
Bran! . . . Why should I wait for her? What
pleasure can it be to me to have the feeling of
a four-legged, brindled, lop-eared, toad-mouthed
thing always between what seem to be my legs?
There she is ! Where have you been, madam ?
Don't you see I am in marching order, with staff
and wallet ready shouldered ? Come ! "
But the dog, looking up in his face as only dogs
can look, ran toward the back of the ruin, and up
to him again, and back again, until he followed her.
" What 's this ? Here is a new sensation with
a vengeance ! Oh, storm and cloud of material
appearances, were there not enough of you al-
ready, that you must add to your number these
also ? Bran ! Bran ! Could you find no other day
in the year but this, whereon to present my ears
with the squeals of one two three nine
blind puppies?"
Bran answered by rushing into the hole where
her new family lay tumbling and squalling, bring-
ing out one in her mouth, and laying it at his feet.
236 Hypatia
" Needless, I assure you. I am perfectly aware
of the state of the case already. What! another?
Silly old thing ! do you fancy, as the fine ladies
do, that burdening the world with noisy likenesses
of your precious self, is a thing of which to be
proud ? Why, she 's bringing out the whole litter I
. . . What was I thinking of last? Ah the
argument was self-contradictory, was it, because
I could not argue without using the very terms
which I repudiated. Well . . . And why should
it not be contradictory? Why not? One must
face that too, after all. Why should not a thing
be true and false also? What harm in a thing's
being false? What necessity for it to be true?
True? What is truth? Why should a thing be
the worse for being illogical ? Why should there
be any logic at all? Did I ever see a little beast
flying about with 'Logic' labelled on its back?
What do I know of it, but as a sensation of my
own mind if I have any? What proof is that
that I am to obey it, and not it me? If a flea
bites me I get rid of that sensation ; and if logic
bothers me, I '11 get rid of that too. Phantasms
must be taught to vanish courteously. One's
only hope of comfort lies in kicking feebly against
the tyranny of one's own boring notions and sen-
sations every philosopher confesses that and
what god is logic, pray, that it is to be the sole
exception? . . . What, old lady? I give you
fair warning, you must choose this day, like any
nun, between the ties of family and those of duty."
Bran seized him by the skirt, and pulled him
down towards the puppies ; took up one of the
puppies and lifted it towards him; and then re-
peated the action with another.
The Bottom of the Abyss 237
" You unconscionable old brute ! You don't
actually dare to expect me to carry your puppies
for you ? " and he turned to go.
Bran sat down on her tail and began howling.
" Farewell, old dog ! you have been a pleasant
dream after all. . . . But if you will go the way of
all phantasms "... And he walked away.
Bran ran with him, leaping and barking; then
recollected her family and ran back ; tried to bring
them, one by one, in her mouth, and then to bring
them all at once ; and failing sat down and howled.
" Come, Bran ! Come, old girl ! "
She raced halfway up' to him ; then halfway
back again to the puppies ; then towards him again :
and then suddenly gave it up, and dropping her
tail, walked slowly back to the blind suppliants,
with a deep reproachful growl.
" ! " said Raphael, with a mighty oath ;
"you are right after all? Here are nine things
come into the world, phantasms or not, there it
is; I can't deny it. They are something, and
you are something, old dog; or at least like
enough to something to do instead of it ; and you
are not I, and as good as I, and they too, for aught
I know, and have as good a right to live as I ;
and by the seven planets and all the rest of it, I '11
carry them ! "
And he went back, tied up the puppies in his
blanket, and set forth, Bran barking, squeaking,
wagging, leaping, running between his legs and
upsetting him, in her agonies of joy.
" Forward ! Whither you will, old lady ! The
world is wide. You shall be my guide, tutor,
queen of philosophy, for the sake of this mere
common sense of yours. Forward, you new Hy-
238 Hypatia
patia! I promise you I will attend no lectures
but yours this day ! "
He toiled on, every now and then stepping
across a dead body, or clambering a wall out of
the road, to avoid some plunging, shrieking horse,
or obscene knot of prowling camp followers, who
were already stripping and plundering the slain.
... At last, in front of a large villa, now a black
and smoking skeleton, he leaped a wall, and found
himself landed on a heap of corpses. . . . They
were piled up against the garden fence for many
yards. The struggle had been fierce there some
three hours before.
" Put me out of my misery ! In mercy kill
me ! " moaned a voice beneath his feet.
Raphael looked down ; the poor wretch was
slashed and mutilated beyond all hope.
" Certainly, friend, if you wish it," and he drew
his dagger. The poor fellow stretched out his
throat, and awaited the stroke with a ghastly
smile. Raphael caught his eye ; his heart failed
him, and he rose.
"What do you advise, Bran?" But the dog
was far ahead, leaping and barking impatiently.
" I obey," said Raphael ; and he followed her,
while the wounded man called piteously and up-
braidingly after him.
" He will not have long to wait. Those plun-
derers will not be as squeamish as I. ... Strange,
now! From Armenian reminiscences I should
have fancied myself as free from such tender
weakness as any of my Canaanite-slaying ances-
tors. . . . And yet by some mere spirit of con-
tradiction, I couldn't kill that fellow, exactly
because he asked me to do it. ... There is more
The Bottom of the Abyss 239
in that than will fit into the great inverted pyra-
mid of ' I am I.' . . . Never mind, let me get the
dog's lessons by heart first. What next, Bran?
Ah! Could one believe the transformation?
Why, this is the very trim villa which I passed
yesterday morning, with the garden-chairs stand-
ing among the flower-beds, just as the young ladies
had left them, and the peacocks and silver pheas-
ants running about, wondering why their pretty
mistresses did not come to feed them. And here
is a trampled mass of wreck and corruption for
the girls to find, when they venture back from
Rome, and complain how horrible war is for
breaking down all their shrubs, and how cruel
soldiers must be to kill and cook all their poor dear
tame turtle-doves! Why not? Why should they
lament over other things which they can just
as little mend and which perhaps need no more
mending? Ah! there lies a gallant fellow under-
neath that fruit-tree ! "
Raphael walked up to a ring of dead, in the midst
of which lay, half-sitting against the trunk of the
tree, a tall and noble officer, in the first bloom of
manhood. His casque and armor, gorgeously
inlaid with gold, were hewn and battered by a
hundred blows ; his shield was cloven through and
through; his sword broken in the stiffened hand
which grasped it still. Cut off from his troop, he
had made his last stand beneath the tree, knee-
deep in the gay summer flowers, and there he lay,
bestrewn, as if by some mockery or pity of
mother nature, with faded roses, and golden fruit,
shaken from off the boughs in that last deadly
struggle. Raphael stood and watched him with a
sad sneer.
240 Hypatia
" Well ! you have sold your fancied personality
dear! How many dead men? . . . Nine . . .
Eleven ! Conceited fellow ! Who told you that
your one life was worth the eleven which you have
taken?"
Bran went up to the corpse perhaps from its
sitting posture fancying it still living smelt the
cold cheek, and recoiled with a mournful whine.
"Eh? That is the right way to look at the
phenomena, is it? Well, after all, I am sorry for
you . . . almost like you. . . . All your wounds
in front, as a man's should be. Poor fop ! Lais and
Thais will never curl those dainty ringlets for you
again ! What is that bas-relief upon your shield?
Venus receiving Psyche into the abode of the gods 1
. . . Ah ! you have found out all about Psyche's
wings by this time. . . . How do I know that? And
yet, why am I, in spite of my common sense if I
have any talking to you as you, and liking you, and
pitying you, if you are nothing now, and probably
never were anything? Bran ! What right had you
to pity him without giving your reasons in due
form, as Hypatia would have done? Forgive me,
sir, however whether you exist or not, I cannot
leave that collar round your neck for these camp-
wolves to convert into strong liquor."
And as he spoke, he bent down, and detached,
gently enough, a magnificent necklace.
" Not for myself, I assure you. Like At6's
golden apple, it shall go to the fairest. Here,
Bran!"
And he wreathed the jewels round the neck of
the mastiff, who, evidently exalted in her own eyes
by the burden, leaped and barked forward again,
taking, apparently as a matter of course, the road
The Bottom of the Abyss 241
back towards Ostia, by which they had come
thither from the sea. And as he followed, careless
where he went, he continued talking to himself
aloud after the manner of restless self-discontented
men.
..." And then man talks big about his dignity
and his intellect, and his heavenly parentage, and
his aspirations after the unseen and the beautiful,
and the infinite and everything else unlike him-
self. How can he prove it? Why, these poor
blackguards lying about are very fair specimens of
humanity. And how much have they been
bothered since they were born with aspirations
after anything infinite, except infinite sour wine?
To eat, to drink ; to destroy a certain number of
their species; to reproduce a certain number of
the same, two-thirds of whom will die in infancy, a
dead waste of pain to their mothers, and of expense
to their putative sires . . . and then what says
Solomon ? What befalls them befalls beasts. As
one dies, so dies the other ; so that they have all
one breath, and a man has no pre-eminence over a
beast ; for all is vanity. All go to one place ; all
are of the dust and turn to dust again. Who knows
that the breath of man goes upward, and that the
breath of the beast goes downward to the earth?
Who, indeed, my most wise ancestor? Not I, cer-
tainly. Raphael Aben-Ezra, how art thou better than
a beast? What pre-eminence hast thou, not merely
over this dog, but over the fleas whom thou so wan-
tonly cursest? Man must painfully win house,
clothes, fire. . . .A pretty proof of his wisdom, when
every flea has the wit to make my blanket, without
any labor of his own, lodge him a great deal better
than it lodges me ! Man makes clothes, and the
VI
242 Hypatia
fleas live in them. . . . Which is the wiser of the
two? . . .
" Ah, but man is fallen. . . . Well and the
flea is not. So much better he than the man ; for
he is what he was intended to be, and so fulfils the
very definition of virtue . . . which no one can
say of us of the red-ochre vein. And even if the
old myth be true, and the man only fell, because
he was set to do higher work than the flea ; what
does that prove but that he could not do it?
"But his arts and his sciences? . . . Apage !
The very sound of those grown-children's rattles
turns me sick. . . . One conceited ass in a gener-
ation increasing labor and sorrow, and dying after
all even as the fool dies, and ten million brutes and
slaves, just where their forefathers were, and where
their children will be after them, to the end of the
farce. . . . The thing that has been, it is that
which shall be ; and there is no new thing under
the sun. . . .
" And as for your palaces, and cities, and temples
. . . look at this Campagna, and judge. Flea-bites
go down after a while and so do they. What are
they but the bumps which we human fleas make in
the old earth's skin? . . . Make them? We only
cause them, as fleas cause flea-bites. . . . What are
all the works of man, but a sort of cutaneous dis-
order in this unhealthy earth-hide, and we a race of
larger fleas, running about among its fur, which
we call trees? Why should not the earth be an
animal? How do I know it is not? Because it is
too big? Bah! What is big, and what is little?
Because it has not the shape of one? . . . Look
into a fisherman's net, and see what forms are
there! Because it does not speak? . . . Perhaps
The Bottom of the Abyss 243
it has nothing to say, being too busy. Perhaps it
can talk no more sense than we. ... In both
cases it shows its wisdom by holding its tongue.
Because it moves in one necessary direction? . . .
How do I know that it does? How can I tell that
it is not flirting with all the seven spheres at once,
at this moment? But if it does so much the
wiser of it, if that be the best direction for it. Oh,
what a base satire on ourselves and our notions of
the fair and fitting, to say that a thing cannot be
alive and rational, just because it goes steadily on
upon its own road, instead of skipping and scram-
bling fantastically up and down without method or
order, like us and the fleas, from the cradle to the
grave ! Besides, if you grant, with the rest of the
world, that fleas are less noble than we, because
they are our parasites, then you are bound to grant
that we are less noble than the earth, because we
are its parasites. . . . Positively, it looks more
probable than anything I have seen for many a
day. . . . And, by-the-by, why should not earth-
quakes, and floods, and pestilences, be only just so
many ways which the cunning old brute earth has
of scratching herself, when the human fleas and their
palace and city bites get too troublesome? "
At a turn of the road he was aroused from this
profitable meditation by a shriek, the shrillness of
which told him that it was a woman's. He looked
up, and saw close to him, among the smouldering
ruins of a farm-house, two ruffians driving before
them a young girl, with her hands tied behind her,
while the poor creature was looking back piteously
after something among the ruins, and struggling in
vain, bound as she was, to escape from her captors,
and return.
244 Hypatia
" Conduct unjustifiable in any fleas, eh, Bran?
How do I know that, though? Why should it not
be a piece of excellent fortune for her, if she had
but the equanimity to see it? Why what will
happen to her? She will be taken to Rome, and
sold as a slave. . . . And in spite of a few discom-
forts in the transfer, and the prejudice which some
persons have against standing an hour on the
catasta to be handled from head to foot in the
minimum of clothing, she will most probably end
in being far better housed, fed, bedizened, and
pampered to her heart's desire, than ninety-nine
out of a hundred of her sister-fleas . . . till she
begins to grow old . . . which she must do in any
case. . . . And if she have not contrived to wheedle
her master out of her liberty, and to make up a
pretty little purse of savings, by that time why,
it is her own fault. Eh, Bran ? "
But Bran by no means agreed with his view of the
case ; for after watching the two ruffians, with her
head stuck on one side, for a minute or two, she
suddenly and silently, after the manner of mastiffs,
sprang upon them, and dragged one to the ground.
" Oh ! that is the ' fit and beautiful,' in this case,
as they say in Alexandria, is it? Well I obey.
You are at least a more practical teacher than ever
Hypatia was. Heaven grant that there may be no
more of them in the ruins ! "
And rushing on the second plunderer, he laid
him dead with a blow of his dagger, and then
turned to the first, whom Bran was holding down
by the throat.
" Mercy, mercy ! " shrieked the wretch. " Life !
only life ! "
"There was a fellow half-a-mile back begging me
The Bottom of the Abyss 245
to kill him : with which of you two am I to agree ?
for you can't both be right."
" Life ! Only life ! "
" A carnal appetite, which man must learn to
conquer," said Raphael, as he raised the poniard.
... In a moment it was over, and Bran and he
rose Where was the girl ? She had rushed back
to the ruins, whither Raphael followed her; while
Bran ran to the puppies, which he had laid upon
a stone, and commenced her maternal cares.
" What do you want, my poor girl ? " asked he
in Latin. " I will not hurt you."
"My father! My father!"
He untied her bruised and swollen wrists ; and
without stopping to thank him, she ran to a heap
of fallen stones and beams, and began digging
wildly with all her little strength, breathlessly
calling " Father ! "
" Such is the gratitude of flea to flea ! What is
there, now, in the mere fact of being accustomed
to call another person father, and not master, or
slave, which should produce such passion as that?
. . . Brute habit ! . . . What services can the said
man render, or have rendered, which make him
worth Here is Bran ! . . . What do you think
of that, my female philosopher?"
Bran sat down and watched too. The poor girl's
tender hands were bleeding from the stones, while
her golden tresses rolled down over her eyes, and
entangled in her impatient fingers : but still she
worked frantically. Bran seemed suddenly to
comprehend the case, rushed to the rescue, and
began digging too, with all her might.
Raphael rose with a shrug, and joined in the work.
246 Hypatia
" Hang these brute instincts ! They make one
very hot. What was that? "
A feeble moan rose from under the stones. A
human limb was uncovered. The girl threw her-
self on the place, shrieking her father's name.
Raphael put her gently back, and exerting his
whole strength, drew out of the ruins a stalwart
elderly man, in the dress of an officer of high
rank.
He still breathed. The girl lifted up his head
and covered him with wild kisses. Raphael looked
round for water; found a spring and a broken
sherd, and bathed the wounded man's temples till
he opened his eyes, and showed signs of returning
life.
The girl still sat by him, fondling her recovered
treasure, and bathing the grizzled face in holy
tears.
"It is no business of mine," said Raphael.
" Come, Bran ! "
The girl sprang up, threw herself at his feet,
kissed his hands, called him her savior, her deliv-
erer, sent by God.
" Not in the least, my child. You must thank
my teacher the dog, not me."
And she took him at his word, and threw her
soft arms round Bran's neck ; and Bran understood
it, and wagged her tail, and licked the gentle face
lovingly.
" Intolerably absurd, all this ! " said Raphael.
" I must be going, Bran."
"You will not leave us? You surely will not
leave an old man to die here ? "
"Why not? What better thing could happen
to him?"
The Bottom of the Abyss 247
" Nothing," murmured the officer, who had not
spoken before.
" Ah God ! he is my father ! "
"Well?"
" He is my father ! "
"Well?"
" You must save him ! You shall, I say ! " And
she seized Raphael's arm in the imperiousness of
her passion.
He shrugged his shoulders : but felt, he knew
not why, marvellously inclined to obey her.
" I may as well do this as anything else, having
nothing else to do. Whither now, sir?"
" Whither you will. Our troops are disgraced,
our eagles taken. We are your prisoners by right
of war. We follow you."
" Oh my fortune ! A new responsibility ! Why
cannot I stir, without live animals, from fleas
upward, attaching themselves to me? Is it not
enough to have nine blind puppies at my back,
and an old brute at my heels, who will persist in
saving my life, that I must be burdened over and
above with a respectable elderly rebel and his
daughter? Why am I not allowed by fate to care
for nobody but myself? Sir, I give you both your
freedom. The world is wide enough for us all. I
really ask no ransom."
" You seem philosophically disposed, my friend."
"I? Heaven forbid ! I have gone right through
that slough, and come out sheer on the other side.
For sweeping the last lingering taint of it out of
me, I have to thank, not sulphur and exorcisms,
but your soldiers and their morning's work. Philo-
sophy is superfluous in a world where all are fools.*'
" Do you include yourself under that title? "
248 Hypatia
" Most certainly, my best sir. Don't fancy that
I make any exceptions. If I can in any way prove
my folly to you, I will do it"
" Then help me and my daughter to Ostia."
" A very fair instance. Well my dog happens
to be going that way ; and after all, you seem to
have a sufficient share of human imbecility to be a
very fit companion for me. I hope, though, you
do not set up for a wise man ! "
" God knows no ! Am I not of Heraclian's
army?"
" True ; and the young lady here made herself
so great a fool about you, that she actually in-
fected the very dog."
" So we three fools will forth together."
" And the greatest one, as usual, must help the
rest. But I have nine puppies in my family al-
ready. How am I to carry you and them?"
" I will take them," said the girl ; and Bran,
after looking on at the transfer with a somewhat
dubious face, seemed to satisfy herself that all was
right, and put her head contentedly under the
girl's hand.
" Eh ? You trust her, Bran ? " said Raphael, in
an undertone. " I must really emancipate myself
from your instructions if you require a similar
simplicity in me. Stay ! there wanders a mule
without a rider; we may as well press him into
the service."
He caught the mule, lifted the wounded man
into the saddle, and the cavalcade set forth, turn-
ing out of the highroad into a by-lane, which the
officer, who seemed to know the country thorough-
ly, assured him would lead them to Ostia by an
unfrequented route.
The Bottom of the Abyss 249
" If we arrive there before sundown, we are
saved," said he.
" And in the meantime," answered Raphael,
"between the dog and this dagger, which, as I
take care to inform all comers, is delicately
poisoned, we may keep ourselves clear of marau-
ders. And yet, what a meddling fool I am ! " he
went on to himself. " What possible interest can
I have in this uncircumcised rebel! The least
evil is, that if we are taken, which we most prob-
ably shall be, I shall be crucified for helping him
to escape. But even if we get safe off here is a
fresh tie between me and those very brother fleas, to
be rid of whom I have chosen beggary and starva-
tion. Who knows where it may end? Pooh!
The man is like other men. He is certain, before
the day is over, to prove ungrateful, or attempt
the mountebank-heroic, or give me some other
excuse for bidding him good evening. And in
the meantime there is something quaint in the fact
of finding so sober a respectability, with a young
daughter too, abroad on this fool's errand, which
really makes me curious to discover with what
variety of flea I am to class him."
But while Aben-Ezra was talking to himself
about the father, he could not help, somehow,
thinking about the daughter. Again and again
he found himself looking at her. She was, un-
deniably, most beautiful. Her features were not
as regularly perfect as Hypatia's, nor her stature
so commanding ; but her face shone with a clear
and joyful determination, and with a tender
and modest thoughtfulness, such as he had never
beheld before united in one countenance ; and as
she stepped along, firmly and lightly, by her
250 Hypatia
father's side, looping up her scattered tresses as
she went, laughing at the struggles of her noisy
burden, and looking up with rapture at her father's
gradually brightening face, Raphael could not
help stealing glance after glance, and was surprised
to find them returned with a bright, honest, smil-
ing gratitude, which met him full-eyed, as free
from prudery as it was from coquetry. ..." A
lady she is," said he to himself; " but evidently
no city one. There is nature or something else,
there, pure and unadulterated, without any of man's
additions or beautifications." And as he looked,
he began to feel it a pleasure, such as his weary
heart had not known for many a year, simply to
watch her. . . .
" Positively there is a foolish enjoyment after
all in making other fleas smile. . . . Ass that I
am! As if I had not drank all that ditch-water
cup to the dregs years ago ! "
They went on for some time in silence, till the
officer, turning to him :
"And may I ask you, my quaint preserver,
whom I would have thanked before but for this
foolish faintness, which is now going off, what and
who you are ? "
" A flea, sir a flea nothing more."
" But a patrician flea, surely ; to judge by your
language and manners ? "
" Not that exactly. True, I have been rich, as
the saying is ; I may be rich again, they tell me,
when I am fool enough to choose."
" Oh if we were but rich ! " sighed the girl.
" You would be very unhappy, my dear young
lady. Believe a flea who has tried the experiment
thoroughly."
The Bottom of the Abyss 251
" Ah ! but we could ransom my brother ! and
now we can find no money till we get back to
Africa."
" And none then," said the officer, in a low voice.
"You forget, my poor child, that I mortgaged the
whole estate to raise my legion. We must not
shrink from looking at things as they are."
" Ah ! and he is prisoner ! he will be sold for a
slave perhaps ah ! perhaps crucified, for he
is not a Roman ! Oh, he will be crucified ! " and
she burst into an agony of weeping. . . . Sud-
denly she dashed away her tears and looked up
clear and bright once more. " No ! forgive me,
father ! God will protect His own ! "
" My dear young lady," said Raphael, " if you
really dislike such a prospect for your brother, and
are in want of a few dirty coins wherewith to pre-
vent it, perhaps I may be able to find you them
in Ostia."
She looked at him incredulously, as her eye
glanced over his rags, and then, blushing, begged
his pardon for her unspoken thoughts.
" Well, as you choose to suppose. But my dog
has been so civil to you already, that perhaps she
may have no objection to make you a present of
that necklace of hers. I will go to the Rabbis,
and we will make all right; so don't cry. I hate
crying; and the puppies are quite chorus enough
for the present tragedy."
"The Rabbis? Are you a Jew?" asked the
officer.
"Yes, sir, a Jew. And you, I presume, a
Christian : perhaps you may have scruples about
receiving your sect has generally none about
taking from one of our stubborn and unbe-
252 Hypatia
lieving race. Don't be frightened, though, for
your conscience; I assure you I am no more a
Jew at heart than I am a Christian."
" God help you then ! "
" Some one, or something, has helped me a
great deal too much, for three-and-thirty years of
pampering. But, pardon me, that was a strange
speech for a Christian."
" You must be a good Jew, sir, before you can
be a good Christian."
" Possibly. I intend to be neither nor a
good pagan either. My dear sir, let us drop the
subject. It is beyond me. If I can be as good
a brute animal as my dog there it being first
demonstrated that it is good to be good I shall
be very well content"
The officer looked down on him with a stately,
loving sorrow. Raphael caught his eye, and felt
that he was in the presence of no common man.
" I must take care what I say here, I suspect,
or I shall be entangled shortly in a regular So-
cratic dialogue. . . . And now, sir, may I return
your question, and ask who and what are you?
I really have no intention of giving you up to
any Caesar, Antiochus, Tiglath-Pileser, or other
flea-devouring flea. . . . They will fatten well
enough without your blood. So I only ask as a
student of the great nothing-in-general, which men
call the universe."
" I was prefect of a legion this morning. What
I am now, you know as well as I."
" Just what I do not. I am in deep wonder at
seeing your hilarity, when, by all flea-analogies,
you ought to be either behowling your fate like
Achilles on the shores of Styx, or pretending to
The Bottom of the Abyss 253
grin and bear it, as I was taught to do when I
played at Stoicism. You are not of that sect
certamly, for you confessed yourself a fool just
now."
" And it would be long, would it not, before
you made one of them do as much? Well, be it
so. A fool I am ; yet, if God helps us as far as
Ostia, why should I not be cheerful?"
"Why should you?"
" What better thing can happen to a fool, than
that God should teach him that he is one, when
he fancied himself the wisest of the wise ? Listen
to me, sir. Four months ago I was blessed with
health, honor, lands, friends all for which the
heart of man could wish. And if, for an insane
ambition, I have chosen to risk all those, against
the solemn warnings of the truest friend, and the
wisest saint, who treads this earth of God's
should I not rejoice to have it proved to me, even
by such a lesson as this, that the friend who never
deceived me before was right in this case too;
and that the God who has checked and turned
me for forty years of wild toil and warfare, when-
ever I dared to do what was right in the sight of
my own eyes, has not forgotten me yet, or given
up the thankless task of my education?"
" And who, pray, is this peerless friend ? "
"Augustine of Hippo."
" Humph ! It had been better for the world in
general, if the great dialectician had exerted his
powers of persuasion on Heraclian himself."
" He did so, but in vain."
" I don't doubt it. I know the sleek Count
well enough to judge what effect a sermon would
have upon that smooth vulpine determination of
254 Hypatia
his. . . . ' An instrument in the hands of God, my
dear brother. . . . We must obey His call, even
to the death,' etc., etc." And Raphael laughed
tbitterly.
"You know the Count?"
" As well, sir, as I care to know any man."
" I am sorry for your eyesight, then, sir," said
the Prefect, severely, " if it has been able to dis-
cern no more than that in so august a character."
" My dear sir, I do not doubt his excellence
nay, his inspiration. How well he divined the
perfectly fit moment for stabbing his old comrade
Stilicho! But really, as two men of the world,
we must be aware by this time that every man
has his price.". . .
" Oh, hush ! hush ! " whispered the girl. " You
cannot guess how you pain him. He worships
the Count. It was not ambition, as he pretends,
but merely loyalty to him, which brought him
here against his will."
" My dear madam, forgive me. For your sake
I am silent." . . .
" For her sake ! A pretty speech for me !
What next!" said he to himself. "Ah, Bran,
Bran, this is all your fault!"
" For my sake ! Oh, why not for your own
sake? How sad to hear one one like you, only
sneering and speaking evil ! "
"Why then? If fools are fools, and one can
safely call them so, why not do it? "
" Ah, if God was merciful enough to send
down His own Son to die for them, should we
not be merciful enough not to judge their failings
harshly!"
" My dear young lady, spare a worn-out philos-
The Bottom of the Abyss 255
opher any new anthropologic theories. We really
must push on a little faster, if we intend to reach
Ostia to-night."
But, for some reason or other, Raphael sneered
no more for a full half-hour.
Long, however, ere they reached Ostia, the
night had fallen ; and their situation began to be
more than questionably safe. Now and then a
wolf, slinking across the road towards his ghastly
feast, glided like a lank ghost out of the darkness,
and into it again, answering Bran's growl by a
gleam of his white teeth. Then the voices of
some marauding party rang coarse and loud
through the still night, and made them hesitate
and stop a while. And at last, worst of all, the
measured tramp of an imperial column began to
roll like distant thunder along the plain below.
They were advancing upon Ostia ! What if they
-arrived there before the routed army could rally,
and defend themselves long enough to re-embark !
. . . What if a thousand ugly possibilities be-
gan to crowd up.
"Suppose we found the gates of Ostia shut,
and the Imperialists bivouacked outside?" said
Raphael half to himself.
" God would protect His own," answered the
girl; and Raphael had no heart to rob her of
her hope, though he looked upon their chances
of escape as growing smaller and smaller every
moment. The poor girl was weary; the mule
weary also ; and as they crawled along, at a pace
which made it certain that the fast passing column
would be at Ostia an hour before them, to join
the vanguard of the pursuers, and aid them in
investing the town, she had to lean again and
256 Hypatia
again on Raphael's arm. Her shoes, unfitted for
so rough a journey, had been long since torn off,
and her tender feet were marking every step with
blood. Raphael knew it by her faltering gait;
and remarked, too, that neither sigh nor murmur
passed her lips. But as for helping her, he could
not ; and began to curse the fancy which had led
him to eschew even sandals as unworthy the self-
dependence of a Cynic.
And so they crawled along, while Raphael and
the prefect, each guessing the terrible thoughts
of the other, were thankful for the darkness which
hid their despairing countenances from the young
girl; she, on the other hand, chatting cheerfully,
almost laughingly, to her silent father.
At last the poor child stepped on some stone
more sharp than usual and, with a sudden writhe
and shriek, sank to the ground. Raphael lifted
her up, and she tried to proceed, but sank down
again. . . . What was to be done ?
" I expected this," said the prefect, in a slow
stately voice. " Hear me, sir ! Jew, Christian, or
philosopher, God seems to have bestowed on you
a heart which I can trust. To your care I com-
mit this girl your property, like me, by right
of war. Mount her upon this mule. Hasten with
her where you will for God will be there also.
And may He so deal with you, as you deal with
her henceforth. An old and disgraced soldier can
do no more than die."
And he made an effort to dismount ; but faint-
ing from his wounds, sank upon the neck of the
mule. Raphael and his daughter caught him in
their arms.
"Father! Father! Impossible! Cruel! Oh
The Bottom of the Abyss -257
do you think that I would have followed you
hither from Africa, against your own entreaties,
to desert you now?"
" My daughter, I command ! "
The girl remained firm and silent.
"How long have you learned to disobey me?
Lift the old disgraced man down, sir, and leave
him to die in the right place on the battle-field
where his general sent him."
The girl sank down on the road in an agony of
weeping. " I must help myself, I see," said her
father, dropping to the ground. " Authority van-
ishes before old age and humiliation. Victoria!
has your father no sins to answer for already, that
you will send him before his God with your blood
too upon his head ? "
Still the girl sat weeping on the ground ; while
Raphael, utterly at his wits' end, tried hard to
persuade himself that it was no concern of
his.
" I am at the service of either or of both, for
life or death; only be so good as to settle it
quickly. . . . Hell ! here it is settled for us, with
a vengeance ! "
And as he spoke, the tramp and jingle of horse-
men rang along the lane, approaching rapidly.
In an instant Victoria had sprung to her feet
weakness and pain had vanished.
" There is one chance one chance for him !
Lift him over the bank, sir ! Lift him over, while
I run forward and meet them. My death will de-
lay them long enough for you to save him ! "
"Death?" cried Raphael, seizing her by the
arm. " If that were all "
"God will protect His own," answered she,
258 Hypatia
calmly, laying her finger on her lips; and then
breaking from his grasp in the strength of her
heroism, vanished into the night.
Her father tried to follow her, but fell on his
face, groaning. Raphael lifted him, strove to drag
him up the steep bank: but his knees knocked
together ; a faint sweat seemed to melt every limb.
. . . There was a pause, which seemed ages long.
. . . Nearer and nearer came the trampling. . . .
A sudden gleam of the moon revealed Victoria
standing with outspread arms, right before the
horses' heads. A heavenly glory seemed to bathe
her from head to foot ... or was it tears sparkling
in his own eyes? . . . Then the grate and jar of
the horse-hoofs on the road, as they pulled up
suddenly. . . . He turned his face away and shut
his eyes. . . .
" What are you ? " thundered a voice.
" Victoria, the daughter of Majoricus the
Prefect."
The voice was low, but yet so clear and calm,
that every syllable rang through Aben-Ezra's ting-
ling ears. . . .
A shout a shriek the confused murmur
of many voices. . . . He looked up, in spite of
himself a horseman had sprung to the ground,
and clasped Victoria in his arms. The human
heart of flesh, asleep for many a year, leaped into
mad life within his breast, and drawing his dagger,
he rushed into the throng:
" Villains ! Hellhounds ! I will balk you ! She
shall die first!"
And the bright blade gleamed over Victoria's
head. . . . He was struck down blinded half-
stunned but rose again with the energy of mad-
The Bottom of the Abyss 259
ness. . . . What was this? Soft arms around him.
. . . Victoria's !
" Save him ! Spare him ! He saved us ! Sir !
It is my brother ! We are safe ! Oh, spare the
dog ! It saved my father ! "
" We have mistaken each other, indeed, sir ! "
said a gay young tribune, in a voice trembling
with joy. " Where is my father? "
" Fifty yards behind. Down, Bran ! Qukt !
O Solomon, mine ancestor, why did you not pre-
vent me making such an egregious fool of myself?
Why, I shall be forced, in self-justification, to carry
through the farce ! "
There is no use telling what followed during the
next five minutes, at the end of which time Raphael
found himself astride of a goodly war-horse, by the
side of the young tribune, who carried Victoria
before him. Two soldiers in the meantime were
supporting the prefect on his mule, and convinc-
ing that stubborn bearer of burdens that it was not
quite so unable to trot as it had fancied, by the
combined arguments of a drench of wine and two
sword-points, while they heaped their general with
blessings, and kissed his hands and feet.
" Your father's soldiers seem to consider them-
selves in debt to him : not, surely, for taking them
where they could best run away ? "
" Ah, poor fellows ! " said the tribune ; " we
have had as real a panic among us as I ever read
of in Arrian or Polybius. But he has been a
father rather than a general to them. It is not
often that, out of a routed army, twenty gallant
men will volunteer to ride back into the enemy's
ranks, on the chance of an old man's breathing
still."
26 o Hypatia
"Then you knew where to find us?" said Vic-
toria.
" Some of them knew. And he himself showed
us this very by-road yesterday, when we took up
our ground, and told us it might be of service on
occasion and so it has been."
" But they told me that you were taken prisoner.
Oh, the torture I have suffered for you 1 "
" Silly child ! Did you fancy my father's son
would be taken alive? I and the first troop got
away over the garden walls, and cut our way out
into the plain, three hours ago."
" Did I not tell you," said Victoria leaning to-
ward Raphael, " that God would protect His
own?"
" You did," answered he ; and fell into a long
and silent meditation.
CHAPTER XIV
THE ROCKS OF THE SIRENS
THESE four months had been busy and event-
ful enough to Hypatia and to Philammon ;
yet the events and the business were of so gradual
and uniform a tenor, that it is as well to pass
quickly over them, and show what had happened
principally by its effects.
The robust and fiery desert-lad was now met-
amorphosed into the pale and thoughtful student,
oppressed with the weight of careful thought and
weary memory. But those remembrances were
all recent ones. With his entrance into Hypatia's
lecture-room, and into the fairy realms of Greek
thought, a new life had begun for him ; and the
Laura, and Pambo, and Arsenius, seemed dim
phantoms from some antenatal existence, which
faded day by day before the inrush of new and
startling knowledge.
But though the friends and scenes of his child-
hood had fallen back so swiftly Into the far hori-
zon, he was not lonely. His heart found a lovelier,
if not a healthier home, than it had ever known
before. For during those four peaceful and busy
months of study there had sprung up between
Hypatia and the beautiful boy one of those pure
and yet passionate friendships call them rather,
with Saint Augustine, by the sacred name of love
which, fair and holy as they are when they link
262 Hypatia
youth to youth, or girl to girl, reach their full
perfection only between man and woman. The
unselfish adoration with which a maiden may bow
down before some strong and holy priest, or with
which an enthusiastic boy may cling to the wise
and tender matron, who, amid the turmoil of the
world, and the pride of beauty, and the cares of
wifehood, bends down to him with counsel and
encouragement earth knows no fairer bonds
than these, save wedded love itself. And that
second relation, motherly rather than sisterly, had
bound Philammon with a golden chain to the
wondrous maid of Alexandria.
From the commencement of his attendance in
her lecture-room she had suited her discourses to
what she fancied were his especial spiritual needs ;
and many a glance of the eye towards him, on any
peculiarly important sentence, set the poor boy's
heart beating at that sign that the words were
meant for him. But before a month was past,
won by the intense attention with which he watched
for every utterance of hers, she had persuaded her
father to give him a place in the library as one of
his pupils, among the youths who were employed
there daily in transcribing, as well as in studying,
the authors then in fashion.
She saw him at first but seldom more seldom
than she would have wished : but she dreaded the
tongue of scandal, heathen as well as Christian,
and contented herself with inquiring daily from
her father about the progress of the boy. And
when at times she entered for a moment the library,
where he sat writing, or passed him on her way to
the Museum, a look was interchanged, on her part
of most gracious approval, and on his of adoring
The Rocks of the Sirens 263
gratitude, which was enough for both. Her spell
was working surely ; and she was too confident in
her own cause and her own powers to wish to
hurry that transformation for which she so fondly
hoped.
" He must begin at the beginning," thought she
to herself. " Mathematics and the Parmenides are
enough for him as yet. Without a training in the
liberal sciences he cannot gain a faith worthy of
those gods to whom some day I shall present him ;
and I should find his Christian ignorance and
fanaticism transferred, whole and rude, to the
service of those gods whose shrine is unapproach-
able save to the spiritual man, who has passed
through the successive vestibules of science and
philosophy."
But soon, attracted herself, as much as wishing
to attract him, she employed him in copying manu-
scripts for her own use. She sent back his themes
and declamations, corrected with her own hand;
and Philammon laid them by in his little garret
at Eudaemon's house as precious badges of honor
after exhibiting them to the reverential and envious
gaze of the little porter. So he toiled on, early
and late, counting himself well paid for a week's
intense exertion by a single smile or word of
approbation, and went home to pour out his soul
to his host on the one inexhaustible theme which
they had in common Hypatia and her perfec-
tions. He would have raved often enough on the
same subject to his fellow-pupils, but he shrank not
only from their artificial city manners, but also
from their morality, for suspecting which he saw
but too good cause. He longed to go out into the
streets, to proclaim to the whole world the treasure
264 Hypatia
which he had found, and call on all to come and
share it with him. For there was no jealousy in
that pure love of his. Could he have seen her
lavishing on thousands far greater favors than she
had conferred on him, he would have rejoiced in
the thought that there were so many more blest
beings upon earth, and have loved them all and
every one as brothers, for having deserved her
notice. Her very beauty, when his first flush of
wonder was past, he ceased to mention ceased
even to think of it. Of course she must be beau-
tiful. It was her right ; the natural complement of
her other graces : but it was to him only what the
mother's smile is to the infant, the sunlight to the
skylark, the mountain-breeze to the hunter an
inspiring element, on which he fed unconsciously.
Only when he doubted for a moment some espe-
cially startling or fanciful assertion, did he become
really aware of the great loveliness of her who
made it ; and then his heart silenced his judgment
with the thought Could any but true words
come out of those perfect lips? any but royal
thoughts take shape within that queenly head ? . . .
Poor fool ! Yet was it not natural enough?
Then, gradually, as she passed the boy, poring
over his book, in some alcove of the Museum
gardens, she would invite him by a glance to join
the knot of loungers and questioners who dangled
about her and her father, and fancied themselves
to be reproducing the days of the Athenian sages
amid the groves of another Academus. Some-
times, even, she had beckoned him to her side as
she sat in some retired arbor, attended only by
her father; and there some passing observation,
earnest and personal, however lofty and measured,
The Rocks of the Sirens 265
made him aware, as it was intended to do, that she
had a deeper interest in him, a livelier sympathy
for him, than for the many ; that he was in her
eyes not merely a pupil to be instructed, but a soul
whom she desired to educate. And those delicious
gleams of sunlight grew more frequent and more
protracted ; for by each she satisfied herself more
and more that she had not mistaken either his
powers or his susceptibilities : and in each, whether
in public or private, Philammon seemed to bear
himself more worthily. For over and above the
natural ease and dignity which accompanies phys-
ical beauty, and the modesty, self-restraint, and
deep earnestness which he had acquired under the
discipline of the Laura, his Greek character was
developing itself in all its quickness, subtlety, and
versatility, until he seemed to Hypatia some young
Titan, by the side of the flippant, hasty, and insin-
cere talkers who made up her chosen circle.
But man can no more live upon Platonic love
than on the more prolific species of that common
ailment ; and for the first month Philammon would
have gone hungry to his couch full many a night,
to lie awake from baser causes than philosophic
meditation, had it not been for his magnanimous
host, who never lost heart for a moment, either
about himself, or any other human being. As for
Philammon's going out with him to earn his bread,
he would not hear of it. Did he suppose that he
could meet any of those monkish rascals in the
street, without being knocked down and carried off
by main force? And besides there was a sort of
impiety in allowing so hopeful a student to neglect
the " Divine Ineffable " in order to supply the base
necessities of the teeth. So he should pay no rent
M Vol. VI
266 Hypatia
for his lodgings positively none; and as for
eatables why, he must himself work a little
harder in order to cater for both. Had not all his
neighbors their litters of children to provide for,
while he, thanks to the immortals, had been far too
wise to burden the earth with animals who would
add to the ugliness of their father the Tartarean
hue of their mother? And after all, Philammon
could pay him back when he became a great
sophist, and made money, as of course he would
some day or other ; and in the meantime, some-
thing might turn up things were always turning
up for those whom the gods favored ; and besides,
he had fully ascertained that on the day on which
he first met Philammon, the planets were favorable,
the Mercury being in something or other, he forgot
what, with Helios, which portended for Philammon,
in his opinion, a similar career with that of the
glorious and devout Emperor Julian.
Philammon winced somewhat at the hint ; which
seemed to have an ugly verisimilitude in it: but
still, philosophy he must learn, and bread he must
eat; so he submitted.
But one evening, a few days after he had been
admitted as Theon's pupil, he found, much to his
astonishment, lying on the table in his garret, an
undeniable glittering gold piece. He took it down
to the porter the next morning, and begged him
to discover the owner of the lost coin, and return
it duly. But what was his surprise, when the little
man, amid endless capers and gesticulations, in-
formed him, with an air of mystery, that it was
anything but lost ; that his arrears of rent had been
paid for him ; and that, by the bounty of the upper
powers, a fresh piece of coin would be forthcoming
The Rocks of the Sirens 267
every month ! In vain Philammon demanded to
know who was his benefactor. Eudaemon reso-
lutely kept the secret and imprecated a whole
Tartarus of unnecessary curses on his wife if she
allowed her female garrulity though the poor
creature seemed never to open her lips from
morning till night to betray so great a mystery.
Who was the unknown friend? There was but
one person who could have done it. ... And yet
he dared not the thought was too delightful
think that it was she. It must have been her
father. The old man had asked him more than
once about the state of his purse. True, he had
always returned evasive answers ; but the kind old
man must have divined the truth. Ought he not
must he not go and thank him ? No ; perhaps
it was more courteous to say nothing. If he she
for of course she had permitted, perhaps advised,
the gift had intended him to thank them, would
they have so carefully concealed their own gener-
osity? ... Be it so, then. But how would he not
repay them for it ! How delightful to be in her
debt for anything for everything ! Would that
he could have the enjoyment of owing her existence
itself!
So he took the coin, bought unto himself a cloak
of the most philosophic fashion, and went his way,
such as it was, rejoicing.
But his faith in Christianity? What had become
of that?
What usually happens in such cases. It was not
dead ; but nevertheless it had fallen fast asleep for
the time being. He did not disbelieve it; he
would have been shocked to hear such a thing
asserted of him : but he happened to be busy be-
268 Hypatia
lieving something else geometry, conic sections,
cosmogonies, psychologies, and what not And so
it befell that he had not just then time to believe
in Christianity. He recollected at times its exist-
ence ; but even then he neither affirmed nor denied
it. When he had solved the great questions
those which Hypatia set forth as the roots of all
knowledge how the world was made, and what
was the origin of evil, and what his own personality
was, and that being settled whether he had
one, with a few other preliminary matters, then it
would be time to return, with his enlarged light,
to the study of Christianity; and if, of course,
Christianity should be found to be at variance with
that enlarged light, as Hypatia seemed to think.
. . . Why, then What then ? . . . He would
not think about such disagreeable possibilities.
Sufficient for the day was the evil thereof. Possi-
bilities? It was impossible. . . . Philosophy could
not mislead. Had not Hypatia defined it, as man's
search after the unseen? And if he found the un-
seen by it, did it not come to just the same thing
as if the unseen had revealed itself to him? And
he must find it for logic and mathematics could
not err. If every step was correct, the conclusion
must be correct also ; so he must end, after all, in
the right path that is, of course, supposing
Christianity to be the right path and return to
fight the church's battles, with the sword which he
had wrested from Goliath the Philistine. . . . But
he had not won the sword yet ; and in the mean-
while, learning was weary work ; and sufficient for
the day was the good, as well as the evil, thereof.
So, enabled by his gold coin each month to
devote himself entirely to study, he became very
The Rocks of the Sirens 269
much what Peter would have coarsely termed a
heathen. At first, indeed, he slipped into the
Christian churches, from a habit of conscience.
But habits soon grow sleepy ; the fear of discovery
and recapture made his attendance more and more
of a labor. And keeping himself apart as much
as possible from the congregation, as a lonely
and secret worshipper, he soon found himself as
separate from them in heart as in daily life. He
felt that they, and even more than they, those
flowery and bombastic pulpit rhetoricians, who
were paid for their sermons by the clapping and
cheering of the congregation, were not thinking of,
longing after, the same things as himself. Besides,
he never spoke to a Christian ; for the negress at
his lodgings seemed to avoid him whether from
modesty or terror, he could not tell ; and cut off
thus from the outward " communion of saints," he
found himself fast parting away from the inward
one. So he went no more to church ; and looked
the other way, he hardly knew why, whenever he
passed the Csesareum; and Cyril, and all his
mighty organization, became to him another world,
with which he had even less to do than with those
planets over his head, whose mysterious move-
ments, and symbolisms, and influences Hypatia's
lectures on astronomy were just opening before his
bewildered imagination.
Hypatia watched all this with growing self-
satisfaction, and fed herself with the dream that
through Philammon she might see her wildest
hopes realized. After the manner of women, she
crowned him, in her own imagination, with all
powers and excellences which she would have
wished him to possess, as well as with those which
270 Hypatia
he actually manifested, till Philammon would have
been as much astonished as self-glorified could he
have seen the idealized caricature of himself which
the sweet enthusiast had painted for her private
enjoyment. They were blissful months those to
poor Hypatia. Orestes, for some reason or other,
had neglected to urge his suit, and the Iphigenia-
sacrifice had retired mercifully into the background.
Perhaps she should be able now to accomplish
all without it. And yet it was so long to wait !
Years might pass before Philammon's education
was matured, and with them golden opportunities
which might never recur again.
" Ah ! " she sighed at times, " that Julian had
lived a generation later! That I could have
brought all my hard-earned treasures to the feet
of the Poet of the Sun, and cried, ' Take me !
Hero, warrior, statesman, sage, priest of the God
of Light ! Take thy slave ! Command her send
her to martyrdom, if thou wilt ! ' A pretty price
would that have been wherewith to buy the honor
of being the meanest of thy apostles, the fellow-
laborer of lamblichus, Maximus, Libanius, and
the choir of sages who upheld the throne of the
last true Caesar ! "
CHAPTER XV
NEPHELOCOCCUGUIA
HYPATIA had always avoided carefully dis-
cussing with Philammon any of those points
on which she differed from his former faith. She
was content to let the divine light of philosophy
penetrate by its own power, and educe its own
conclusions. But one da)', at the very time at
which this history re-opens, she was tempted to
speak more openly to her pupil than she yet had
done. Her father had introduced him, a few days
before, to a new work of hers on mathematics;
and the delighted and adoring look with which the
boy welcomed her, as he met her in the Museum
gardens, pardonably tempted her curiosity to in-
quire what miracles her own wisdom might have
already worked. She stopped in her walk, and
motioned her father to begin a conversation with
Philammon.
" Well ! " asked the old man, with an encour-
aging smile, " and how does our pupil like his
new "
"You mean my conic sections, father? It is
hardly fair to expect an unbiassed answer in my
presence."
" Why so?" said Philammon. " Why should I
not tell you, as well as all the world, the fresh and
wonderful field of thought which they have opened
to me, in a few short hours?"
272 Hypatia
" What then ? " asked Hypatia, smiling, as if she
knew what the answer would be. " In what does
my commentary differ from the original text of
Apollonius, on which I have so faithfully based
it?"
"Oh, as much as a living body differs from a
dead one. Instead of mere dry disquisitions on
the properties of lines and curves, I found a mine
of poetry and theology. Every dull mathematical
formula seemed transfigured, as if by a miracle,
into the symbol of some deep and noble principle
of the unseen world."
" And do you think that he of Perga did not see
as much? or that we can pretend to surpass, in
depth of insight, the sages of the elder world ? Be
sure that they, like the poets, meant only spiritual
things, even when they seem to talk only of physi-
cal ones, and concealed heaven under an earthly
garb, only to hide it from the eyes of the profane ;
while we, in these degenerate days, must interpret
and display each detail to the dull ears of men."
" Do you think, my young friend," asked Theon,
" that mathematics can be valuable to the philoso-
pher otherwise than as vehicles of spiritual truth !
Are we to study numbers merely that we may be
able to keep accounts; or as Pythagoras did, in
order to deduce from their laws the ideas by
which the universe, man, Divinity itself, con-
sists?"
"That seems to me certainly to be the nobler
purpose."
" Or conic sections, that we may know better
how to construct machinery; or rather to devise
from them symbols of the relations of Deity to its
various emanations?"
Nephelococcuguia 273
"You use your dialectic like Socrates himself,
my father," said Hypatia.
" If I do, it is only for a temporary purpose. I
should be sorry to accustom Philammon to sup-
pose that the essence of philosophy was to be
found in those minute investigations of words and
analyses of notions, which seem to constitute
Plato's chief power in the eyes of those who, like
the Christian sophist Augustine, worship his letter
while they neglect his spirit ; not seeing that those
dialogues, which they fancy the shrine itself, are
but vestibules "
" Say rather, veils, father."
" Veils, indeed, which were intended to baffle
the rude gaze of the carnal-minded ; but still vesti-
bules, through which the enlightened soul might
be led up to the inner sanctuary, to the Hesperid
gardens and golden fruit of the Timaeus and the
oracles. . . . And for myself, were but those two
books left, I care not whether every other writing
in the world perished to-morrow." ]
" You must except Homer, father."
"Yes, for the herd. . . . But of what use would
he be to them without some spiritual commen-
tary?"
" He would tell them as little, perhaps, as the
circle tells to the carpenter who draws one with
his compasses."
" And what is the meaning of the circle ? " asked
Philammon.
" It may have infinite meanings, like every other
natural phenomenon; and deeper meanings in
proportion to the exaltation of the soul which be-
1 This astounding speech is usually attributed to Proclus,
Hypatia's " great " successor.
274 Hypatia
holds it. But, consider, is it not, as the one per-
fect figure, the very symbol of the totality of the
spiritual world ; which, like it, is invisible, except
at its circumference, where it is limited by the
dead gross phenomena of sensuous matter ! and
even as the circle takes its origin from one center,
itself unseen, a point, as Euclid defines it, where-
of neither parts nor magnitude can be predicated,
does not the world of spirits revolve round one
abysmal being, unseen and undefinable in itself,
as I have so often preached, nothing, for it is con-
ceivable only by the negation of all properties,
even of those of reason, virtue, force; and yet,
like the center of the circle, the cause of all other
existences?"
" I see," said Philammon ; for the moment, cer-
tainly, the said abysmal Deity struck him as a
somewhat chill and barren notion . . . but that
might be caused only by the dulness of his own
spiritual perceptions. At all events, if it was a
logical conclusion, it must be right.
"Let that be enough for the present. Here-
after you may be I fancy that I know you well
enough to prophesy that you will be able to
recognize in the equilateral triangle inscribed with-
in the circle, and touching it only with its angles,
the three supra-sensual principles of existence,
which are contained in Deity as it manifests itself
in the physical universe, coinciding with its utmost
limits, and yet, like it, independent on that unseen
central One which none dare name."
" Ah ! " said poor Philammon, blushing scarlet
at the sense of his own dulness, " I am, indeed, not
worthy to have such wisdom wasted upon my im-
perfect apprehension. . . . But, if I may dare to
Nephelococcuguia 275
ask . . . does not Apollonius regard the circle,
like all other curves, as not depending primarily
on its own center for its existence, but as generated
by the section of any cone by a plane at right
angles to its axis?"
" But must we not draw, or at least conceive a
circle, in order to produce that cone? And is not
the axis of that cone determined by the center of
that circle ? "
Philammon stood rebuked.
" Do not be ashamed ; you have only, unwit-
tingly, laid open another, and perhaps, as deep a
symbol. Can you guess what it is ? "
Philammon puzzled in vain.
" Does it not show you this ? That, as every
conceivable right section of the cone discloses the
circle, so in all which is fair and symmetric you
will discover Deity, if you but analyze it in a right
and symmetric direction ? "
" Beautiful ! " said Philammon, while the old
man added :
"And does it not show us, too, how the one
perfect and original philosophy may be discovered
in all great writers, if we have but that scientific
knowledge, which will enable us to extract it?"
" True, my father : but just now, I wish Philam-
mon, by such thoughts as I have suggested, to
rise to that higher and more spiritual insight into
nature, which reveals her to us as instinct through-
out all fair and noble forms of her at least
with Deity itself; to make him feel that it is not
enough to say, with the Christians, that God has
made the world, if we make that very assertion an
excuse for believing that His presence has been
ever since withdrawn from it."
276 Hypatia
" Christians, I think, would hardly say that,**
said Philammon.
M Not in words. But, in fact, they regard Deity
as the maker of a dead machine, which, once made,
will move of itself thenceforth, and repudiate as
heretics every philosophic thinker, whether Gnostic
or Platonist, who, unsatisfied with so dead, barren,
and sordid a conception of the glorious all, wishes
to honor the Deity by acknowledging His uni-
versal presence, and to believe, honestly, the
assertion of their own Scriptures, that He lives
and moves, and has His being in the universe."
Philammon gently suggested that the passage in
question was worded somewhat differently in the
Scripture.
" True. But if the one be true, its converse will
be true also. If the universe lives and moves, and
has its being in Him, must He not necessarily
pervade all things ? "
"Why? Forgive my dulness, and explain."
" Because, if He did not pervade all things, those
things which He did not pervade would be as it
were interstices in His being, and in so far, with-
out Him."
" True, but still they would be within His cir-
cumference."
" Well argued. But yet they would not live in
Him, but in themselves. To live in Him they
must be pervaded by His life. Do you think it
possible do you think it even reverent to affirm
that there can be anything within the infinite glory
of Deity which has the power of excluding from
the space which it occupies that very being from
which it draws its worth, and which must have
originally pervaded that thing, in order to bestow on
Nephelococcuguia 277
it its organization and its life? Does He retire after
creating, from the spaces which He occupied during
creation, reduced to the base necessity of making
room for His own universe, and endure the suffer-
ing for the analogy of all material nature tells
us that it is suffering of a foreign body, like a
thorn within the flesh, subsisting within His own
substance ? Rather believe that His wisdom and
splendor, like a subtle and piercing fire, insinuates
itself eternally with resistless force through every
organized atom, and that were it withdrawn but
for an instant from the petal of tlie meanest flower,
gross matter, and the dead chaos from which it
was formed, would be all which would remain of
its loveliness. . . .
" Yes " she went on, after the method of her
school, who preferred, like most decaying ones,
harangues to dialectic, and synthesis to induction.
..." Look at yon lotus-flower, rising like Aphro-
dite from the wave in which it has slept through-
out the night, and saluting, with bending swan-neck,
that sun which it will follow lovingly around the
sky. Is there no more there than brute matter,
pipes and fibres, color and shape, and the mean-
ingless life-in-death which men call vegetation?
Those old Egyptian priests knew better, who could
see in the number and the form of those ivory
petals and golden stamina, in that mysterious daily
birth out of the wave, in that nightly baptism, from
which it rises each morning re-born to a new life,
the signs of some divine idea, some mysterious law,
common to the flower itself, to the white-robed
priestess who held it in the temple-rites, and to the
goddess to whom they both were consecrated. . . .
The flower of Isis ! . . Ah ! well. Nature has
278 Hypatia
her sad symbols, as well as her fair ones. And in
proportion as a misguided nation has forgotten the
worship of her to whom they owed their greatness,
for novel and barbaric superstitions, so has her
sacred flower grown rarer and more rare, till now
fit emblem of the worship over which it used to
shed its perfume it is only to be found in gardens
such as these a curiosity to the vulgar, and, to
such as me, a lingering monument of wisdom and
of glory passed away."
Philammon, it may be seen, was far advanced by
this time ; for he bore the allusions to Isis without
the slightest shudder. Nay he dared even to
offer consolation to the beautiful mourner.
" The philosopher," he said, " will hardly lament
the loss of a mere outward idolatry. For if, as you
seem to think, there were a root of spiritual truth
in the symbolism of nature, that cannot die. And
thus the lotus-flower must still retain its meaning,
as long as its species exists on earth."
" Idolatry ! " answered she, with a smile. " My
pupil must not repeat to me that worn-out Chris-
tian calumny. Into whatsoever low superstitions
the pious vulgar may have fallen, it is the Chris-
tians now, and not the heathens, who are idolaters.
They who ascribe miraculous power to dead men's
bones, who make temples of charnel-houses, and
bow before the images of the meanest of mankind,
have surely no right to accuse of idolatry the
Greek or the Egyptian, who embodies in a form
of symbolic beauty ideas beyond the reach of
words !
"Idolatry? Do I worship the Pharos when I
gaze at it, as I do for hours, with loving awe, as
the token to me of the all-conquering might of
Nephelococcuguia 279
Hellas? Do I worship the roll on which Homer's
words are written, when I welcome with delight the
celestial truths which it unfolds to me, and even
prize and love the material book for the sake of
the message which it brings? Do you fancy that
any but the vulgar worship the image itself, or
dream that it can help or hear them ? Does the
lover mistake his mistress's picture for the living,
speaking reality? We worship the idea of which
the image is a symbol. Will you blame us because
we use that symbol to represent the idea to our
own affections and emotions instead of leaving it a
barren notion, a vague imagination of our own
intellect?"
" Then," asked Philammon, with a faltering voice,
yet unable to restrain his curiosity, " then you do
reverence the heathen gods ? "
Why Hypatia should have felt his question a
sore one, puzzled Philammon; but she evidently
did feel it as such, for she answered haughtily
enough :
" If Cyril had asked me that question, I should
have disdained to answer. To you I will tell, that
before I can answer your question you must learn
what those whom you call heathen gods are. The
vulgar, or rather those who find it their interest to
calumniate the vulgar for the sake of confounding
philosophers with them, may fancy them mere hu-
man beings, subject like man to the sufferings of
pain and love, to the limitations of personality.
We, on the other hand, have been taught by the
primeval philosophers of Greece, by the priests of
ancient Egypt, and the sages of Babylon, to recog-
nize in them the universal powers of nature, those
children of the all-quickening spirit, which are but
280 Hypatia
various emanations of the one primeval unity
say rather, various phases of that unity, as it has
been variously conceived, according to the differ-
ences of climate and race, by the wise of different
nations. And thus, in our eyes, he who reverences
the many, worships by that very act, with the high-
est and fullest adoration, the one of whose perfec-
tion they are the partial antitypes ; perfect each in
themselves, but each the image of only one of its
perfections."
" Why, then," said Philammon, much relieved by
this explanation, "do you so dislike Christianity?
may it not be one of the many methods ?"
" Because," she answered, interrupting him im-
patiently, "because it denies itself to be one of
those many methods, and stakes its existence on
the denial ; because it arrogates to itself the exclu-
sive revelation of the Divine, and cannot see, in its
self-conceit, that its own doctrines disprove that
assumption by their similarity to those of all creeds.
There is not a dogma of the Galileans which may
not be found, under some form or other, in some
of those very religions from which it pretends to
disdain borrowing."
" Except," said Theon, " its exaltation of all which
is human and low-born, illiterate and levelling."
"Except that But look! here comes some
one whom I cannot do not choose to meet.
Turn this way quick ! "
And Hypatia, turning pale as death, drew her
father with unphilosophic haste down a side-walk.
" Yes," she went on to herself, as soon as she had
recovered her equanimity. "Were this Galilean
superstition content to take its place humbly
among the other ' religiones licitas ' of the empire,
Nephelococcuguia 281
one might tolerate it well enough, as an anthro-
pomorphic adumbration of divine things fitted for
the base and toiling herd; perhaps peculiarly
fitted, because peculiarly flattering to them. But
now "
" There is Miriam again," said Philammon,
" right before us ! "
"Miriam?" asked Hypatia, severely. "You
know her, then? How is that?"
" She lodges at Eudaemon's house, as I do,"
answered Philammon, frankly. " Not that I evef
interchanged, or wish to interchange, a word with
so base a creature."
" Do not ! I charge you ! " said Hypatia, al-
most imploringly. But there was now no way of
avoiding her, and perforce Hypatia and her tor-
mentress met face to face.
" One word ! one moment, beautiful lady," be-
gan the old woman, with a slavish obeisance.
" Nay, do not push by so cruelly. I have see
what I have for you ! " and she held out, with a
mysterious air, " The Rainbow of Solomon."
" Ah ! I knew you would stop a moment not
for the ring's sake, of course, nor even for the sake
of one who once offered it to you. Ah ! and
where is he now ? Dead of love, perhaps ! At
least, here is his last token to the fairest one, the
cruel one. . . . Well, perhaps she is right. . . .
To be an empress an empress ! . . . Far finer
than anything the poor Jew could have offered.
. . . But still. . . . An empress need not be above
hearing her subject's petition.". . .
All this was uttered rapidly, and in a wheedling
undertone, with a continual snaky writhing of her
whole body, except her eye, which seemed, in the
282 Hypatia
intense fixity of its glare, to act as a fulcrum for
all her limbs; and from that eye, as long as it
kept its mysterious hold, there was no escaping.
" What do you mean ? What have I to do with
this ring?" asked Hypatia, half frightened.
" He who owned it once, offers it to you now.
You recollect a little black agate a paltry thing.
... If you have not thrown it away, as you most
likely have, he wishes to redeem it with this opal
... a gem surely more fit for such a hand as
that."
" He gave me the agate, and I shall keep it."
" But this opal worth, oh worth ten thousand
gold pieces in exchange for that paltry broken
thing not worth one?"
" I am not a dealer, like you, and have not yet
learnt to value things by their money price. If
that agate had been worth money, I would never
have accepted it."
" Take the ring, take it, my darling," whispered
Theon, impatiently; " it will pay all our debts."
" Ah, that it will pay them all," answered the
old woman, who seemed to have mysteriously
overheard him.
" What ! my father ! Would you, too, counsel
me to be so mercenary? My good woman," she
went on, turning to Miriam, " I cannot expect you
to understand the reason of my refusal. You and
I have a different standard of worth. But for the
sake of the talisman engraven on that agate, if for
no other reason, I cannot give it up."
" Ah ! for the sake of the talisman ! That is
wise, now ! That is noble ! Like a philosopher !
Oh, I will not say a word more. Let the beauti-
ful prophetess keep the agate, and take the opal
Nephelococcuguia 283
too ; for see, there is a charm on it also ! The
name by which Solomon compelled the demons
to do his bidding. Look ! What might you not
do now, if you knew how to use that ! To have
great glorious angels, with six wings each, bowing
at your feet whensoever you called them, and say-
ing, ' Here am I, mistress ; send me.' Only look
at it!"
Hypatia took the tempting bait, and examined
it with more curiosity than she would have wished
to confess ; while the old woman went on :
" But the wise lady knows how to use the black
agate, of course? Aben-Ezra told her that, did
he not?"
Hypatia blushed somewhat; she was ashamed
to confess that Aben-Ezra had not revealed the
secret to her, probably not believing that there
was any, and that the talisman had been to her
only a curious plaything, of which she liked to
believe one day that it might possibly have some
occult virtue, and the next day to laugh at the
notion as unphilosophical and barbaric; so she
answered, rather severely, that her secrets were
her own property.
" Ah, then ! she knows it all the fortunate
lady ! And the talisman has told her whether
Heraclian has lost or won Rome by this time, and
whether she is to be the mother of a new dynasty
of Ptolemies, or to die a virgin, which the Four
Angels avert ! And surely she has had the great
demon come to her already, when she rubbed the
flat side, has she not?"
" Go, foolish woman ! I am not like you, the
dupe of childish superstitions."
" Childish superstitions ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! " said the
284 Hypatia
old woman, as she turned to go, with obeisances
more lowly, than ever. " And she has not seen
the Angels yetl . . . Ah well! perhaps some
day, when she wants to know how to use the talis-
man, the beautiful lady will condescend to let the
poor old Jewess show her the way."
And Miriam disappeared down an alley, and
plunged into the thickest shrubberies, while the
three dreamers went on their way.
Little thought Hypatia that the moment the
old woman had found herself alone, she had
dashed herself down on the turf, rolling and biting
at the leaves like an infuriated wild beast. ... "I
will have it yet ! I will have it, if I tear out her
heart with it ! "
CHAPTER XVI
VENUS AND PALLAS
AS Hypatia was passing across to her lecture-
room that afternoon, she was stopped mid-
way by a procession of some twenty Goths and
damsels, headed by Pelagia herself, in all her glory
of jewels, shawls, and snow-white mule ; while by
her side rode the Amal, his long legs, like those of
Gang-Rolf the Norseman, all but touching the
ground, as he crushed down with his weight a deli-
cate little barb, the best substitute to be found in
Alexandria for the huge black chargers of his
native land.
On they came, followed by a wondering and ad-
miring mob, straight to the door of the Museum,
and stopping began to dismount, while their slaves
took charge of the mules and horses.
There was no escape for Hypatia ; pride forbade
her to follow her own maidenly instinct, and to re-
coil among the crowd behind her ; and in another
moment the Amal had lifted Pelagia from her mule,
and the rival beauties of Alexandria stood, for the
first time in their lives, face to face.
" May Athene befriend you this day, Hypatia !"
said Pelagia, with her sweetest smile. " I have
brought my guards to hear somewhat of your wis-
dom, this afternoon. I am anxious to know whether
you can teach them anything more worth listening
286 Hypatia
to than the foolish little songs which Aphrodite
taught me, when she raised me from the sea-foam,
as she rose herself, and named me Pelagia."
Hypatia drew herself up to her stateliest height,
and returned no answer.
" I think my body-guard will well bear compari-
son with yours. At least they are the princes and
descendants of deities. So it is but fitting that
they should enter before your provincials. Will
you show them the way?"
No answer.
" Then I must do it myself. Come, Amal ! " and
she swept up the steps, followed by the Goths, who
put the Alexandrians aside right and left, as if they
had been children.
" Ah ! treacherous wanton that you are ! " cried a
young man's voice out of the murmuring crowd.
" After having plundered us of every coin out of
which you could dupe us, here you are squander-
ing our patrimonies on barbarians ! "
" Give us back our presents, Pelagia," cried
another, " and you are welcome to your herd of
wild bulls!"
" And I will ! " cried she, stopping suddenly ; and
clutching at her chains and bracelets, she was on
the point of dashing them among the astonished
crowd :
"There ! take your gifts ! Pelagia and her girls
scorn to be debtors to boys, while they are wor-
shipped by men like these ! "
But the Amal, who, luckily for the students, had
not understood a word of this conversation, seized
her arm, asking if she were mad.
" No, no ! " panted she, inarticulate with passion.
"Give me gold every coin you have. These
Venus and Pallas 287
wretches are twitting me with what they gave me
before before oh Amal, you understand me?"
And she clung imploringly to his arm.
" Oh ! Heroes ! each of you throw his purse
among these fellows ! they say that we and our
ladies are living on their spoils ! " And he tossed
his purse among the crowd.
In an instant every Goth had followed his ex-
ample : more than one following it up by dashing
a bracelet or necklace into the face of some hapless
philosophaster.
"I have no lady, my young friends," said old
Wulf, in good enough Greek, "and owe you noth-
ing : so I shall keep my money, as you might have
kept yours; and as you might, too, old Smid, if
you had been as wise as I."
" Don't be stingy, Prince, for the honor of the
Goths," said Smid, laughing.
" If I take in gold I pay in iron," answered Wulf,
drawing half out of its sheath the huge broad blade,
at the ominous brown stains of which the studentry
recoiled ; and the whole party swept into the empty
lecture-room, and seated themselves at their ease
in the front ranks.
Poor Hypatia ! At first she determined not to
lecture then to send for Orestes then to call on
her students to defend the sanctity of the Museum ;
but pride, as well as prudence, advised her better ;
to retreat would be to confess herself conquered
to disgrace philosophy to lose her hold on the
minds of all waverers. No ! she would go on and
brave everything, insults, even violence ; and with
trembling limbs and a pale cheek, she mounted the
tribune and began.
To her surprise and delight, however, her bar-
288 Hypatia
barian auditors were perfectly well behaved. Pe-
lagia, in childish good humor at her triumph, and
perhaps, too, determined to show her contempt for
her adversary by giving her every chance, enforced
silence and attention, and checked the tittering of
the girls, for a full half-hour. But at the end of that
time the heavy breathing of the slumbering Amal,
who had been twice awoke by her, resounded un-
checked through the lecture-room, and deepened
into a snore ; for Pelagia herself was as fast asleep as
he. But now another censor took upon himself the
office of keeping order. Old Wulf, from the moment
Hypatia had begun, had never taken his eyes off
her face; and again and again the maiden's weak
heart had been cheered, as she saw the smile of
sturdy intelligence and honest satisfaction which
twinkled over that scarred and bristly visage ; while
every now and then the graybeard wagged approval,
until she found herself, long before the end of the
oration, addressing herself straight to her new
admirer.
At last it was over, and the students behind, who
had sat meekly through it all, without the slight-
est wish to "upset" the intruders, who had so
thoroughly upset them, rose hurriedly, glad enough
to get safe out of so dangerous a neighborhood.
But to their astonishment, as well as to that of
Hypatia, old Wulf rose also, and stumbling along
to the foot of the tribune, pulled out his purse, and
laid it at Hypatia's feet.
"What is this?" asked she, half terrified at the
approach of a figure more rugged and barbaric
than she had ever beheld before.
" My fee for what I have heard to-day. You are
a right noble maiden, and may Freya send you a
Venus and Pallas 289
husband worthy of you, and make you the mother
of kings!"
And Wulf retired with his party.
Open homage to her rival, before her very face !
Pelagia felt quite inclined to hate old Wulf.
But at least he was the only traitor. The rest of
the Goths agreed unanimously that Hypatia was a
very foolish person, who was wasting her youth and
beauty in talking to donkey-riders ; and Pelagia re-
mounted her mule, and the Goths their horses, for
a triumphal procession homeward.
And yet her heart was sad, even in her triumph.
Right and wrong were ideas as unknown to her as
they were to hundreds of thousands in her day.
As far as her own consciousness was concerned,
she was as destitute of a soul as the mule on which
she rode. Gifted by nature with boundless frolic
and good-humor, wit and cunning, her Greek
taste for the physically beautiful and graceful de-
veloped by long training, until she had become,
without a rival, the most perfect pantomime,
dancer, and musician who catered for the luxuri-
ous tastes of the Alexandrian theatres. She had
lived since her childhood only for enjoyment and
vanity, and wished for nothing more. But her new
affection, or rather worship, for the huge manhood
of her Gothic lover had awoke in her a new object
to keep him to live for him to follow him
to the ends of the earth, even if he tired of her, ill-
used her, despised her. And slowly, day by day,
Wulf's sneers had awakened in her a dread that
perhaps the Amal might despise her. . . . Why, she
could not guess: but what sort of women were
those Alrunas, of whom Wulf sung, of whom even
the Amal and his men spoke with reverence, as
N Vol. VI
290 Hypatia
something nobler, not only than she, but even than
themselves? And what was it which Wulf had
recognized in Hypatia which had bowed the stern
and coarse old warrior before her in that public
homage? ... It was not difficult to say what. . . .
But why should that make Hypatia or any one else
attractive? . . . And the poor little child of nature
gazed in deep bewilderment at a crowd of new
questions, as a butterfly might at the pages of the
book on which it has settled, and was sad and dis-
contented not with herself, for was she not Pela-
gia the perfect? but with these strange fancies
which came into other people's heads. Why
should not every one be as happy as they could?
And who knew better than she how to be happy,
and to make others happy? . . .
" Look at that old monk standing on the pave-
ment, Amalric ! Why does he stare so at me ? Tell
him to go away."
The person at whom she pointed, a delicate-
featured old man, with a venerable white beard,
seemed to hear her ; for he turned with a sudden
start, and then, to Pelagia's astonishment, put his
hands before his face, and burst convulsively into
tears.
" What does he mean by behaving in that way?
Bring him here to me this moment ! I will know ! "
cried she, petulantly catching at the new object, in
order to escape from her own thoughts.
In a moment a Goth had led up the weeper,
who came without demur to the side of Pelagia's
mule.
" Why were you so rude as to burst out crying
in my face ? " asked she, petulantly.
The old man looked up sadly and tenderly, and
Venus and Pallas 291
answered in a low voice, meant only for her
ear:
" And how can I help weeping, when I see any-
thing as beautiful as you are destined to the flames
of hell for ever?"
" The flames of hell ? " said Pelagia, with a shud-
der. "What for?"
" Do you not know? " asked the old man, with a
look of sad surprise. " Have you forgotten what
you are?"
"I? I never hurt a fly !"
"Why do you look so terrified, my darling?
What have you been saying to her, you old vil-
lain?" and the Amal raised his whip.
" Oh ! do not strike him. Come, come to-mor-
row, and tell me what you mean."
" No, we will have no monks within our doors,
frightening silly women. Off, sirrah ! and thank
the lady that you have escaped with a whole skin."
And the Amal caught the bridle of Pelagia's mule,
and pushed forward, leaving the old man gazing
sadly after them.
But the beautiful sinner was evidently not the
object which had brought the old monk of the
desert into a neighborhood so strange and ungenial
to his habits ; for, recovering himself in a few mo-
ments, he hurried on to the door of the Museum,
and there planted himself, scanning earnestly the
faces of the passers-out, and meeting, of course,
with his due share of student ribaldry.
" Well, old cat, and what mouse are you on the
watch for, at the hole's mouth here ? "
" Just come inside, and see whether the mice will
not singe your whiskers for you." . . .
" Here is my mouse, gentlemen," answered the
292 Hypatia
old monk, with a bow and a smile, as he laid his
hand on Philammon's arm, and presented to his
astonished eyes the delicate features and high
retreating forehead of Arsenius.
" My father," cried the boy, in the first impulse
of affectionate recognition ; and then he had
expected some such meeting all along, but now
that it was come at last, he turned pale as death.
The students saw his emotion.
" Hands off, old Heautontimoroumenos ! He
belongs to our guild now ! Monks have no more
business with sons than with wives. Shall we hustle
him for you, Philammon?"
" Take care how you show off, gentlemen : the
Goths are not yet out of hearing ! " answered Phil-
ammon, who was learning fast how to give a smart
answer ; and then, fearing the temper of the younp
dandies, and shrinking from the notion of any in-
sult to one so reverend and so beloved as Arsenius,
he drew the old man gently away, and walked up
the street with him in silence, dreading what was
coming.
" And are these your friends? "
" Heaven forbid ! I have nothing in common
with such animals but flesh and blood, and a seat
in the lecture-room ! "
"Of the heathen woman?"
Philammon, after the fashion of young men in
fear, rushed desperately into the subject himself,
just because he dreaded Arsenius's entering on it
quietly.
" Yes, of the heathen woman. Of course you
have seen Cyril before you came hither?"
" I have, and "
" And," went on Philammon, interrupting him.
Venus and Pallas 293
"you have been told every lie which prurience,
stupidity, and revenge can invent. That I have
trampled on the cross sacrificed to all the
deities in the pantheon and probably" (and
he blushed scarlet) " that that purest and holiest
'of beings who, if she were not what people call
a pagan, would be, and deserves to be, worshipped
as the queen of saints that she and I "
and he stopped.
" Have I said that I believed what I may have
heard?"
" No and therefore, as they are all simple and
sheer falsehoods, there is no more to be said on
the subject. Not that I shall not be delighted
to answer any questions of yours, my dearest
father "
" Have I asked any, my child ? "
" No. So we may as well change the subject for
the present," and he began overwhelming the
old man with inquiries about himself, Pambo, and
each and all of the inhabitants of the Laura : to
which Arsenius, to the boy's infinite relief, an-
swered cordially and minutely, and even vouch-
safed a smile at some jest of Philammon's on the
contrast between the monks of Nitria and those
of Scetis.
Arsenius was too wise not to see well enough
what all this flippancy meant ; and too wise, also,
not to know that Philammon's version was prob-
ably quite as near the truth as Peter's and Cyril's ;
but for reasons of his own, merely replied by an
affectionate look, and a compliment to Philammon's
growth.
" And yet you seem thin and pale, my boy."
" Study," said Philammon, " study. One cannot
294 Hypatia
burn the midnight oil without paying some penalty
for it ... However, I am richly repaid already;
I shall be more so hereafter."
"Let us hope so. But who are those Goths
whom I passed in the streets just now?"
" Ah ! my father," said Philammon, glad in his
heart of any excuse to turn the conversation, and
yet half uneasy and suspicious at Arsenius's evident
determination to avoid the very object of his visit.
" It must have been you, then, whom I saw stop and
speak to Pelagia at the farther end of the street.
What words could you possibly have had where-
with to honor such a creature ? "
"God knows. Some secret sympathy touched
my heart. . . . Alas ! poor child ! But how came
you to know her ? "
" All Alexandria knows the shameless abomina-
tion," interrupted a voice at their elbow none other
than that of the little porter, who had been dodging
and watching the pair the whole way, and could no
longer restrain his longing to meddle. " And well
it had been for many a rich young man had old
Miriam never brought her over, in an evil day, from
Athens hither."
"Miriam?"
" Yes, monk ; a name not unknown, I am told, in
palaces as well as in slave-markets."
" An evil-eyed old Jewess ? "
" A Jewess she is, as her name might have in-
formed you ; and as for her eyes, I consider them,
or used to do so, of course for her injured nation
have been long expelled from Alexandria by your
fanatic tribe as altogether divine and demoniac,
let the base imagination of monks call them what
it likes."
Venus and Pallas 295
"But how did you know this Pelagia, my son?
She is no fit company for such as you."
Philammon told, honestly enough, the story of his
Nile journey, and Pelagia's invitation to him.
" You did not surely accept it ? "
" Heaven forbid that Hypatia's scholar should so
degrade himself! "
Arsenius shook his head sadly.
" You would not have had me go ? "
" No, boy. But how long hast thou learned to
call thyself Hypatia's scholar, or to call it a degra-
dation to visit the most sinful, if thou mightest
thereby bring back a lost lamb to the Good
Shepherd ? Nevertheless, thou art too young for
such employment and she meant to tempt thee,
doubtless."
" I do not think it. She seemed struck by my
talking Athenian Greek, and having come from
Athens."
" And how long since she came from Athens ? "
said Arsenius, after a pause. "Who knows? "
" Just after it was sacked by the barbarians," said
the little porter, who, beginning to suspect a mys-
tery, was peeking and peering like an excited parrot.
" The old dame brought her hither among a cargo
of captive boys and girls."
"The time agrees. . . . Can this Miriam be
found?"
" A sapient and courteous question for a monk
to ask ! Do you not know that Cyril has expelled
all Jews four months ago ? "
"True, true. . . . Alas ! " said the old man to him-
self, " how little the rulers of this world guess their
own power ! They move a finger carelessly, and for-
get that that finger may crush to death hundreds
296 Hypatia
whose names they never heard and every soul of
them as precious in God's sight as Cyril's own."
"What is the matter, my father?" asked Phil-
ammon. "You seem deeply moved, about this
woman." . . .
"And she is Miriam's slave?"
" Her freedwoman this four years past," said
the porter. " The good lady for reasons doubt-
less excellent in themselves, though not altogether
patent to the philosophic mind thought good to
turn her loose on the Alexandrian republic, to
seek what she might devour."
" God help her ! And you are certain that
Miriam is not in Alexandria."
The little porter turned very red, and Philammon
did so likewise ; but he remembered his promise,
and kept it
"You both know something of her, I can see.
You cannot deceive an old statesman, sir ! " turn-
ing to the little porter with a look of authority
" poor monk though he be now. If you think fitting
to tell me what you know, I promise you that neither
she nor you shall be losers by your confidence in
me. If not, I shall find means to discover."
Both stood silent
" Philammon, my son ! and art thou too in league
against no, not against me ; against thyself, poor
misguided boy?"
" Against myself ? "
" Yes I have said it But unless you will trust
me, I cannot trust you."
" I have promised."
" And I, sir statesman, or monk, or both, or neither,
have sworn by the immortal gods ! " said the porter,
looking very big.
Venus and Pallas 297
Arsenius paused.
" There are those who hold that an oath by an
idol, being nothing, is of itself void. I do not
agree with them. If thou thinkest it sin to break
thine oath, to thee it is sin. And for thee, my poor
child, thy promise is sacred, were it made to Iscariot
himself. But hear me. Can either of you, by ask-
ing this woman, be so far absolved as to give me
speech of her ? Tell her that is, if she be in
Alexandria, which God grant all that has passed
between us here, and tell her, on the solemn oath
of a Christian, that Arsenius, whose name she knows
well, will neither injure nor betray her. Will you
do this?"
" Arsenius ? " said the little porter, with a look of
mingled awe and pity.
The old man smiled. " Arsenius, who was once
called the Father of the Emperors. Even she will
trust that name."
" I will go this moment, sir; I will fly ! " and off
rushed the little porter.
" The little fellow forgets," said Arsenius, with a
smile, " to how much he has confessed already, and
how easy it were now to trace him to the old hag's
lair. . . . Philammon, my son ... I have many
tears to weep over thee but they must wait a while.
I have thee safe now," and the old man clutched
his arm. "Thou wilt not leave thy poor old
father ? Thou wilt not desert me for the heathen
woman ? "
" I will stay with you, I promise you, indeed !
if if you will not say unjust things of her."
" I will speak evil of no one, accuse no one, but
myself. I will not say one harsh word to thee, my
poor boy. But listen now ! Thou knowest that
298 Hypatia
thou earnest from Athens. Knowest them that it
was I who brought thee hither?"
"You?"
" I, my son : but when I brought thee to the
Laura, it seemed right that thou, as the son of a
noble gentleman, shouldest hear nothing of it. But
tell me : dost thou recollect father or mother, brother
or sister; or anything of thy home in Athens?"
"No!"
" Thanks be to God. But, Philammon, if thou
hadst had a sister hush ! And if I only say
if "
" A sister ! " interrupted Philammon. " Pelagia ? "
" God forbid, my son ! But a sister thou hadst
once some three years older than thee she
seemed."
"What! did you know her?"
" I saw her but once on one sad day. Poor
children both ! I will not sadden you by telling
you where and how."
" And why did you not bring her hither with me?
You surely had not the heart to part us ? "
" Ah, my son, what right had an old monk with
a fair young girl? And, indeed, even had I had
the courage, it would have been impossible. There
were others, richer than I, to whose covetousness
her youth and beauty seemed a precious prize.
When I saw her last, she was in company with an
ancient Jewess. Heaven grant that this Miriam
may prove to be the one ! "
" And I have a sister ! " gasped Philammon, his
eyes bursting with tears. " We must find her !
You will help me ? Now this moment ! There
is nothing else to be thought of, spoken of, done,
henceforth, till she is found ! "
Venus and Pallas 299
" Ah, my son, my son ! Better, better, perhaps,
to leave her in the hands of God ! What if she were
dead ? To discover that, would be to discover need-
less sorrow. And what if God grant that it be
not so ! she had only a name to live, and were
dead, worse than dead, in sinful pleasure? "
" We would save her, or die trying to save her !
Is it not enough for me that she is my sister?"
Arsenius shook his head. He little knew the
strange new light and warmth which his words had
poured in upon the young heart beside him. . . .
" A sister ! " What mysterious virtue was there in
that simple word, which made Philammon's brain
reel and his heart throb madly? A sister! not
merely a friend, an equal, a helpmate, given by God
himself, for loving whom none, not even a monk,
could blame him. Not merely something delicate,
weak, beautiful for of course she must be beau-
tiful whom he might cherish, guide, support, de-
liver, die for, and find death delicious. Yes all
that, and more than that, lay in the sacred word.
For those divided and partial notions had flitted
across his mind too rapidly to stir such passion as
moved him now ; even the hint of her sin and dan-
ger had been heard heedlessly, if heard at all. It
was the word itself which bore its own message, its
own spell to the heart of the fatherless and mother-
less foundling, as he faced for the first time the
deep, everlasting, divine reality of kindred. . . .
A sister ! of his own flesh and blood born of the
same father, the same mother his, his, for ever !
How hollow and fleeting seemed all " spiritual son-
ships," " spiritual daughterhoods," inventions of the
changing fancy, the wayward will of man ! Arsenius
Pambo ay, Hypatia herself what were they
300 Hypatia
to him now? Here was a real relationship. ... A
sister ! What else was worth caring for upon earth?
"And she was at Athens when Pelagia was " he
cried at last "perhaps knew her let us go to
Pelagia herself! "
" Heaven forbid ! " said Arsenius. " We must
wait at least till Miriam's answer comes."
" I can show you her house at least in the mean-
while ; and you can go in yourself when you will.
I do not ask to enter. Come ! I feel certain that
my finding her is in some way bound up with Pela-
gia. Had I not met her on the Nile, had you not
met her in the street, I might never have heard
that I had a sister. And if she went with Miriam,
Pelagia must know her she may be in that very
house at this moment ! "
Arsenius had his reasons for suspecting that Phil-
ammon was but too right. But he contented him-
self with yielding to the boy's excitement, and set
off with him in the direction of the dancer's house.
They were within a few yards of the gate, when
hurried footsteps behind them, and voices calling
them by name, made them turn ; and behold, evi-
dently to the disgust of Arsenius as much as Phil-
ammon himself, Peter the Reader and a large party
of monks !
Philammon's first impulse was to escape ; Arsen-
ius himself caught him by the arm, and seemed
inclined to hurry on.
" No ! " thought the youth, " am I not a free man,
and a philosopher?" and facing round, he awaited
the enemy.
" Ah, young apostate ! So you have found him,
reverend and ill-used sir. Praised be Heaven for
this rapid success i "
Venus and Pallas 301
" My good friend," asked Arseniiis, in a trem-
bling voice," what brings you here? "
" Heaven forbid that I should have allowed your
sanctity and age to go forth without some guard
against the insults and violence of this wretched
youth and his profligate companions. We have
been following you afar off all the morning, with
hearts full of filial solicitude."
" Many thanks ; but indeed your kindness has
been superfluous. My son here, from whom I have
met with nothing but affection, and whom, indeed,
I believe far more innocent than report declared
him, is about to return peaceably with me. Are
you not, Philammon?"
" Alas ! my father," said Philammon, with an
effort, " how can I find courage to say it? but I
cannot return with you."
"Cannot return?"
"I vowed that I would never again cross that
threshold till "
" And Cyril does. He bade me, indeed he bade
me, assure you that he would receive you back as
a son, and forgive and forget all the past."
"Forgive and forget? That is my part not
his. Will he right me against that tyrant and
his crew? Will he proclaim me openly to be an
innocent and persecuted man, unjustly beaten and
driven forth for obeying his own commands ? Till
he does that, I shall not forget that I am a free
man."
" A free man ! " said Peter, with an unpleasant
smile ; " that remains to be proved, my gay youth ;
and will need more evidence than that smart philo-
sophic cloak and those well-curled locks which you
have adopted since I saw you last."
302 Hypatia
" Remains to be proved ? "
Arsenius made an imploring gesture to Peter to
be silent.
" Nay, sir. As I foretold to you, this one way
alone remains ; the blame of it, if there be blame,
must rest on the unhappy youth whose perversity
renders it necessary."
" For God's sake, spare me ! " cried the old man,
dragging Peter aside, while Philammon stood as-
tonished, divided between indignation and vague
dread.
" Did I not tell you again and again that I never
could bring myself to call a Christian man my
slave ? And him, above all, my spiritual son ? "
" And, most reverend sir, whose zeal is only sur-
passed by your tenderness and mercy, did not the
holy patriarch assure you that your scruples were
groundless? Do you think that either he or I can
have less horror than you have of slavery in itself?
Heaven forbid ! But when an immortal soul is at
stake when a lost lamb is to be brought back to
the fold surely you may employ the authority
which the law gives you for the salvation of that
precious charge committed to you? What could
be more conclusive than his holiness's argument
this morning ? ' Christians are bound to obey the
laws of this world for conscience' sake, even though,
in the abstract, they may disapprove of them, and
deny their authority. Then, by parity of reason-
ing, it must be lawful for them to take the ad-
vantage which those same laws offer them, when
by so doing the glory of God may be advanced.' "
Arsenius still hung back, with eyes brimming
with tears ; but Philammon himself put an end to
the parley.
Venus and Pallas 303
" What is the meaning of all this ? Are you, too,
in a conspiracy against me ? Speak, Arsenius ! "
" This is the meaning of it, blinded sinner ! " cried
Peter. " That you are by law the slave of Arsen-
ius, lawfully bought with his money in the city of
Ravenna; and that he has the power, and, as I
trust, for the sake of your salvation, the will also, to
compel you to accompany him."
Philammon recoiled across the pavement, with
eyes flashing defiance. A slave ! The light of
heaven grew black to him. . . . Oh, that Hypatia
might never know his shame ! Yet it was impos-
sible. Too dreadful to be true. . . .
" You lie ! " almost shrieked he. " I am the son
of a noble citizen of Athens. Arsenius told me so,
but this moment, with his own lips ! "
"Ah, but he bought you bought you in the
public market ; and he can prove it ! "
" Hear me hear me, my son ! " cried the old
man, "springing toward him. Philammon, in his
fury, mistook the gesture and thrust him fiercely
back.
" Your son ? your slave ! Do not insult the
name of son by applying it to me. Yes, sir ; your
slave in body, but not in soul ! Ay, seize me
drag home the fugitive scourge him brand
him chain him in the mill, if you can ; but even
for that the free heart has a remedy. If you will
not let me live as a philosopher, you shall see me
die like one ! "
" Seize the fellow, my brethren ! " cried Peter,
while Arsenius, utterly unable to restrain either
party, hid his face and wept.
" Wretches ! " cried the boy ; " you shall never
take me alive, while I have teeth or nails left. Treat
304 Hypatia
me as a brute beast, and I will defend myself as
such ! "
" Out of the way there, rascals ! Place for the
prefect! What are you squabbling about here,
you unmannerly monks?" shouted peremptory
voices from behind. The crowd parted, and dis-
closed the apparitors of Orestes, who followed in
his robes of office.
A sudden hope flashed before Philammon, and
in an instant he had burst through the mob, and
was clinging to the prefect's chariot.
" I am a free-born Athenian, whom these monks
wish to kidnap back into slavery ! I claim your
protection ! "
" And you shall have it, right or wrong, my hand-
some fellow. By Heaven, you are much too good-
looking to be made a monk of ! What do you
mean, you villains, by attempting to kidnap free
men ? Is it not enough for you to lock up every
mad girl whom you can dupe, but you must "
" His master is here present, your excellency,
who will swear to the purchase."
" Or to anything else for the glory of God. Out
of the way ! And take care, you tall scoundrel, that
I do not get a handle against you. You have been
one of my marked men for many a mouth. Off! "
" His master demands the rights of the law as
a Roman citizen," said Peter, pushing forward
Arsenius.
" If he be a Roman citizen, let him come and
make his claim at the tribune to-morrow, in legal
form. But I would have you remember, ancient sir,
that I shall require you to prove your citizenship
before we proceed to the question of purchase."
" The law does not demand that," quoth Peter.
Venus and Pallas 305
" Knock that fellow down, apparitor ! " Whereat
Peter vanished, and an ominous growl rose from the
mob of monks.
" What am I to do, most noble sir ? " said Phil-
ammon.
" Whatever you like, till the third hour to-morrow
if you are fool enough to appear at the tribune.
If you will take my advice, you will knock down
these fellows right and left, and run for your life."
And Orestes drove on.
Philammon saw that it was his only chance, and
did so; and in another minute he found himself
rushing headlong into the archway of Pelagia's
house, with a dozen monks at his heels.
As luck would have it, the outer gates, at which
the Goths had just entered, were still open ; but the
inner ones which led into the court beyond were
fast. He tried them, but in vain. There was an
open door in the wall on his right: he rushed
through it, into a long range of stables, and into
the arms of Wulf and Smid, who were unsaddling
and feeding, like true warriors, their own horses.
" Souls of my fathers ! " shouted Smid, " here 's
our young monk come back! What brings you
here head over heels in this way, young curly-
pate?"
" Save me from those wretches ! " pointing to the
monks, who were peeping into the doorway.
Wulf seemed to understand it all in a moment ;
for, snatching up a heavy whip, he rushed at the foe,
and with a few tremendous strokes cleared the door-
way, and shut-to the door.
Philammon was going to explain and thank, but
Smid stopped his mouth.
" Never mind, young one, you are our guest now.
306 Hypatia
Come in, and you shall be as welcome as ever. See
what comes of running away from us at first."
" You do not seem to have benefited much by
leaving me for the monks," said old Wulf. " Come
in by the inner door. Smid ! go and turn those
monks out of the gateway."
But the mob, after battering the door for a few
minutes, had yielded to the agonized entreaties of
Peter, who assured them that if those incarnate
fiends once broke out upon them, they would not
leave a Christian alive in Alexandria. So it was
agreed to leave a few to watch for Philammon's com-
ing out ; and the rest, balked of their prey, turned
the tide of their wrath against the prefect, and re-
joined the mass of their party, who were still hang-
ing round his chariot, ready for mischief.
In vain the hapless shepherd of the people at-
tempted to drive on. The apparitors were fright-
ened and hung back ; and without their help it was
impossible to force the horses through the mass of
tossing arms and beards in front. The matter was
evidently growing serious.
" The bitterest ruffians in all Nitria, your excel-
lency," whispered one of the guards, with a pale
face ; " and two hundred of them at the least. The
very same set, I will be sworn, who nearly mur-
dered Dioscuros."
" If you will not allow me to proceed, my holy
brethren," said Orestes, trying to look collected,
" perhaps it will not be contrary to the canons of
the church if I turn back. Leave the horses' heads
alone. Why, in God's name, what do you want? "
"Do you fancy we have forgotten Hieracas?"
cried a voice from the rear; and at that name,
yell upon yell arose, till the mob, gaining courage
Venus and Pallas 307
from its own noise, burst out into open threats.
" Revenge for the blessed martyr, Hieracas ! "
" Revenge for the wrongs of the church ! " " Down
with the friend of heathens, Jews, and barba-
rians ! " " Down with the favorite of Hypatia ! "
" Tyrant ! " " Butcher ! "
And the last epithet so smote the delicate fancy
of the crowd, that a general cry arose of " Kill the
butcher ! " and one furious monk attempted to clam-
ber into the chariot. An apparitor tore him down,
and was dragged to the ground in his turn. The
monks closed in. The guards, finding the enemy
number ten to their one, threw down their weapons
in a panic, and vanished; and in another minute
the hopes of Hypatia and the gods would have
been lost for ever, and Alexandria robbed of the
blessing of being ruled by the most finished gentle-
man south of the Mediterranean, had it not been
for unexpected succor; of which it will be time
enough, considering who and what is in danger,
to speak in a future chapter.
"What was that shriek? What is the mean-
ing of this, Pelagia?"
CHAPTER XVII
A STRAY GLEAM
THE last blue headland of Sardinia was fading
fast on the northwest horizon, and a steady-
breeze bore before it innumerable ships, the wrecks
of Heraclian's armament, plunging and tossing im-
patiently in their desperate homeward race toward
the coast of Africa. Far and wide, under a sky of
cloudless blue, the white sails glittered on the glit-
tering sea, as gaily now above their loads of shame
and disappointment, terror and pain, as when, but
one short month before, they bore with them only
wild hopes and gallant daring. Who can calculate
the sum of misery in that hapless flight? . . . And
yet it was but one, and that one of the least known
and most trivial, of the tragedies of that age of
woe; one petty death-spasm among the unnum-
bered throes which were shaking to dissolution the
Babylon of the West. Her time had come. Even
as Saint John beheld her in his vision, by agony
after agony, she was rotting to her well-earned
doom. Tyrannizing it luxuriously over all nations,
2 Hypatia
she had sat upon the mystic beast building her
power on the brute animal appetites of her dupes
and slaves : but she had duped herself even more
than them. She was finding out by bitter lessons
that it was " to the beast," and not to her, that her
vassal kings of the earth had been giving their
power and strength ; and the ferocity and lust which
she had pampered so cunningly in them, had be-
come her curse and her destruction. . . . Drunk
with the blood of the saints ; blinded by her own
conceit and jealousy to the fact that she had been
crushing and extirpating out of her empire for cen-
turies past all which was noble, purifying, regenera-
tive, divine, she sat impotent and doting, the prey
of every fresh adventurer, the slave of her own
slaves. ..." And the kings of the earth who had
sinned with her, hated the harlot, and made her
desolate and naked, and devoured her flesh, and
burned her with fire. For God had put into their
hearts to fulfil His will, and to agree, and to give
their kingdom to the beast, until the words of God
should be fulfilled." . . . Everywhere sensuality,
division, hatred, treachery, cruelty, uncertainty, ter-
ror ; the phials of God's wrath poured out. Where
was to be the end of it all? asked every man of his
neighbor, generation after generation ; and received
for answer only, " It is better to die than to live."
And yet in one ship out of that sad fleet, there
was peace ; peace amid shame and terror ; amid the
groans of the wounded, and the sighs of the
starving; amid all but blank despair. The great
triremes and quinqueremes rushed onward past the
lagging transports, careless, in the mad race for
safety, that they were leaving the greater number
of their comrades defenceless in the rear of the
A Stray Gleam 3
flight; but from one little fishing-craft alone no
base entreaties, no bitter execrations greeted the
passing flash and roll of their mighty oars. One
after another, day by day, they came rushing up out
of the northern offing, each like a huge hundred-
footed dragon, panting and quivering, as if with ter-
ror, at every loud pulse of its oars, hurling the wild
water right and left with the mighty share of its
beak, while from the bows some gorgon or chimaera,
elephant or boar stared out with brazen eyes toward
the coast of Africa, as if it, too, like the human
beings which it carried, was dead to every care but
that of dastard flight. Past they rushed, one after
another; and off the poop some shouting voice
chilled all hearts for a moment, with the fearful
news that the Emperor's Neapolitan fleet was in full
chase. . . . And the soldiers on board that little
vessel looked silently and steadfastly into the silent
steadfast face of the old prefect, and Victoria saw
him shudder, and turn his eyes away and stood up
among the rough fighting men, like a goddess, and
cried aloud that " the Lord would protect His own ;"
and they believed her, and were still; till many
days and many ships were passed, and the little
fishing-craft, outstripped even by the transports and
merchantmen, as it strained and crawled along before
its single square-sail, was left alone upon the sea.
And where was Raphael Aben-Ezra?
He was sitting, with Bran's head between his
knees, at the door of a temporary awning in the
vessel's stern, which shielded the wounded men from
sun and spray ; and as he sat he could hear from
within the tent the gentle voices of Victoria and her
brother, as they tended the sick like ministering
angels., or read to them words of divine hope and
4 Hypatia
comfort in which his homeless heart felt that he
had no share. . . .
" As I live, I would change places now with any
one of those poor mangled ruffians, to have that
voice speaking such words to me . . . and to be-
lieve them." . . . And he went on perusing the
manuscript which he held in his hand.
" Well ! " he sighed to himself after awhile, " at
least it is the most complimentry, not to say hope-
ful, view of our destinies with which I have met
since I threw away my nurse's belief that the seed
of David was fated to conquer the whole earth, and
set up a second Roman Empire at Jerusalem, only
worse than the present one, in that the devils of
superstition and bigotry would be added to those
of tyranny and rapine."
A hand was laid on his shoulder, and a voice
asked, "And what may this so hopeful view be?"
" Ah ! my dear General ! " said Raphael, looking
up. " I have a poor bill of fare whereon to exer-
cise my culinary powers this morning. Had it not
been for that shark who was so luckily deluded last
night, I should have been reduced to the necessity
of stewing my friend the fat decurion's big boots."
" They would have been savory enough, I will
warrant, after they had passed under your magical
hand."
" It is a comfort, certainly, to find that after all
one did learn something useful in Alexandria ! So
I will even go forward at once, and employ my
artistic skill."
" Tell me first what it was about which I heard
you just now soliloquizing, as so hopeful a view of
some matter or other?"
A Stray Gleam 5
"Honestly if you will neither betray me to
your son and daughter, nor consider me as having
in anywise committed myself it was Paul of Tar-
sus' notion of the history and destinies of our stiff-
necked nation. See what your daughter has per-
suaded me into reading ! " And he held up a man-
uscript of the Epistle to the Hebrews.
" It is execrable Greek. But it is sound philos-
ophy, I cannot deny. He knows Plato better than
all the ladies and gentlemen in Alexandria put to-
gether, if my opinion on the point be worth having."
" I am a plain soldier, and no judge on that point,
sir. He may or may not know Plato; but I am
right sure that he knows God."
" Not too fast," said Raphael, with a smile. " You
do not know, perhaps, that I have spent the last ten
years of my life among men who professed the same
knowledge ? "
" Augustine, too, spent the best ten years of his
life among such ; and yet he is now combating the
very errors which he once taught."
" Having found, he fancies, something better !"
" Having found it, most truly. But you must
talk to him yourself, and argue the matter over,
with one who can argue. To me such questions
are an unknown land."
"Well. . . . Perhaps I may be tempted to do
even that. At least a thoroughly converted phil-
osophy for poor dear Synesius is half heathen
still, I often fancy, and hankers after the wisdom of
the Egyptian will be a curious sight; and to talk
with so famous and so learned a man would always
be a pleasure ; but to argue with him, or any other
human being, none whatsoever."
"Why, then?"
6 Hypatia
" My dear sir, I am sick of syllogisms, and proba-
bilities, and pros and contras. What do I care
if, on weighing both sides, the nineteen pounds'
weight of questionable arguments against, are over-
balanced by the twenty pounds' weight of equally
questionable arguments for? Do you not see that
my belief of the victorious proposition will be pro-
portioned to the one over-balancing pound only,
while the whole other nineteen will go for nothing?"
" I really do not."
" Happy are you, then. I do, from many a sad
experience. No, my worthy sir. I want a faith past
arguments ; one which, whether I can prove it or
not to the satisfaction of the lawyers, I believe to
my own satisfaction, and act on it as undoubtingly
and unreasoningly as I do upon my own newly re-
discovered personal identity. I don't want to pos-
sess a faith. I want a faith which will possess me.
And if I ever arrived at such a one, believe me, it
would be by some such practical demonstration as
this very tent has given me."
"This tent?"
"Yes, sir, this tent; within which I have seen
you and your children lead a life of deeds as new
to me the Jew, as they would be to Hypatia the
Gentile. I have watched you for many a day, and
not in vain. When I saw you, an experienced of-
ficer, encumber your flight with wounded men, I
was only surprised. But since I have seen you
and your daughter, and, strangest of all, your gay
young Alcibiades of a son, starving yourselves to
feed those poor ruffians performing for them,
day and night, the offices of menial slaves com-
forting them, as no man ever comforted me
blaming no one but yourselves, caring for every
A Stray Gleam 7
one but yourselves, sacrificing nothing but your-
selves; and all this without hope of fame or re-
ward, or dream of appeasing the wrath of any god
or goddess, but simply because you thought it
right. . . . When I saw that, sir, and more which
I have seen ; and when, reading in this book here,
I found most unexpectedly those very grand moral
rules which you were practising, seeming to spring
unconsciously, as natural results, from the great
thoughts, true or false, which had preceded them ;
then, sir, I began to suspect that the creed which
could produce such deeds as I have watched within
the last few days, might have on its side not merely
a slight preponderance of probabilities, but what
we Jews used once to call, when we believed in it
or in anything the mighty power of God."
And as he spoke, he looked into the prefect's
face with the look of a man wrestling in some deadly
struggle ; so intense and terrible was the earnest-
ness of his eye, that even the old soldier shrank be-
fore it.
" And therefore," he went on, " therefore, sir,
beware of your own actions, and of your children's.
If, by any folly or baseness, such as I have seen in
every human being whom I ever met as yet upon
this accursed stage of fools, you shall crush my
new-budding hope that there is something some-
where which will make me what I know that I ought
to be, and can be If you shall crush that, I say,
by any misdoing of yours, you had better have been
the murderer of my firstborn ; with such a hate
a hate which Jews alone can feel will I hate you
and yours."
" God help us and strengthen us ! " said the old
warrior, in a tone of noble humility.
8 Hypatia
"And now," said Raphael, glad to change the
subject, after this unwonted outburst, "we must
once more seriously consider whether it is wise to
hold on our present course. If you return to
Carthage, or to Hippo "
" I shall be beheaded."
" Most assuredly. And how much soever you
may consider such an event a gain to yourself, yet
for the sake of your son and your daughter - "
" My dear sir," interrupted the prefect, " you
mean kindly. But do not, do not tempt me. By
the count's side I have fought for thirty years, and
by his side I will die, as I deserve."
" Victorius ! Victoria ! " cried Raphael ; " help
me ! Your father," he went on, as they came out
from the tent, "is still decided on losing his
own head, and throwing away ours, by going to
Carthage."
" For my sake for our sakes father ! " cried
Victoria, clinging to him.
" And for my sake, also, most excellent sir,"
said Raphael, smiling quietly. "I have no wish
to be so uncourteous as to urge any help which I
may have seemed to afford you. But I hope that
you will recollect that I have a life to lose, and
that it is hardly fair of you to imperil it as you
intend to do. If you could help or save Heraclian,
I should be dumb at once. But now, for a mere
point of honor to destroy fifty good soldiers, who
know not their right hands from their left Shall
I ask their opinion? "
" Will you raise a mutiny against me, sir? " asked
the old man, sternly.
"Why not mutiny against Philip drunk, in be-
half of Philip sober ? But really, I will obey you
A Stray Gleam 9
, . . only you must obey us. ... What is Hcsiod's
definition of the man who will neither counsel him-
self nor be counselled by his friends? . . . Have
you no trusty acquaintances in Cyrenaica, for
instance? "
The prefect was silent.
" Oh, hear us, my father ! Why not go to Euo-
dius? He is your old comrade a well-wisher,
too, to this . . . this expedition. . . . And recol-
lect, Augustine must be there now. He was about
to sail for Berenice, in order to consult Synesius and
the Pentapolitan bishops, when we left Carthage."
And at the name of Augustine the old man
paused.
" Augustine will be there ; true. And this our
friend must meet him. And thus at least I should
have his advice. If he thinks it my duty to return
to Carthage, I can but do so, after all. But the
soldiers ! "
" Excellent sir," said Raphael, " Synesius and
the Pentapolitan landlords who can hardly call
their lives their own, thanks to the Moors will
be glad enough to feed and pay them, or any
other brave fellows with arms in their hands, at
this moment. And my friend Victorius, here, will
enjoy, I do not doubt, a little wild campaigning
against marauding blackamoors."
The old man bowed silently. The battle was
won.
The young tribune, who had been watching his
father's face with the most intense anxiety, caught
at the gesture, and hurrying forward, announced
the change of plan to the soldiery. It was greeted
with a shout of joy, and in another five minutes the
sails were about, the rudder shifted, and the ship
I o Hypatia
on her way toward the western point of Sicily,
before a steady northwest breeze.
"Ah! "cried Victoria, delighted. " And now
you will see Augustine ! You must promise me
to talk to him ! "
" This, at least, I will promise, that whatsoever
the great sophist shall be pleased to say, shall
meet with a patient hearing from a brother sophist.
Do not be angry at the term. Recollect that I am
somewhat tired, like my ancestor Solomon, of wis-
dom and wise men, having found it only too like
madness and folly. And you cannot surely ex-
pect me to believe in man, while I do not yet
believe in God ? "
Victoria sighed. " I will not believe you. Why
always pretend to be worse than you are ? "
" That kind souls like you may be spared the
pain of finding me worse than I seem. . . . There,
let us say no more; except that I heartily wish
that you would hate me ! "
"Shall I try?"
"That must be my work, I fear, not yours.
However, I shall give you good cause enough
before long, doubt it not."
Victoria sighed again, and retired into the tent
to nurse the sick.
" And now, sir," said the prefect, turning to
Raphael and his son ; " do not mistake me. I
may have been woak, as worn-out and hopeless
men are wont to be; but do not think of me as
one who has yielded to adversity in fear for his
own safety. As God hears me, I desire nothing
better than to die; and I only turn out of my
course on the understanding that if Augustine so
advise, my children hold me free to return to
A Stray Gleam 1 1
Carthage and meet my fate. All I pray for is,
that my life may be spared until I can place my
dear child in the safe shelter of a nunnery."
"A nunnery?"
" Yes, indeed ; I have intended ever since her
birth to dedicate her to the service of God. And
in such times as these, what better lot for a
defenceless girl ? "
"Pardon me!" said Raphael; "but I am too
dull to comprehend what benefit or pleasure your
Deity will derive from the celibacy of your daugh-
ter. . . . Except, indeed, on one supposition, which,
as I have some faint remnants of reverence and
decency reawakening in me just now, I must leave to
be uttered only by the pure lips of sexless priests."
"You forget, sir, that you are speaking to a
Christian."
" I assure you, no ! I had certainly been for-
getting it till the last two minutes, in your very
pleasant and rational society. There is no danger
henceforth of my making so silly a mistake."
" Sir ! " said the prefect, reddening at the undis-
guised contempt of Raphael's manner. ..." When
you know a little more of Saint Paul's Epistles, you
will cease to insult the opinions and feelings of
those who obey them, by sacrificing their most
precious treasures to God."
" Oh, it is Paul of Tarsus, then, who gives you the
advice ! I thank you for informing me of the fact ;
for it will save me the trouble of any future study of
his works. Allow me, therefore, to return by your
hands this manuscript of his with many thanks from
me to that daughter of yours, by whose perpetual
imprisonment you intend to give pleasure to your
Deity. Henceforth the less communication which
1 2 Hypatia
passes between me and any member of your family,
the better." And he turned away.
" But, my dear sir ! " said the honest soldier;
really chagrined, " you must not ! we owe you
too much, and love you too well to part thus for
the caprice of a moment. If any word of mine has
offended you forget it, and forgive me, I beseech
you ! " and he caught both Raphael's hands in his
own.
" My very dear sir," answered the Jew, quietly ;
" let me ask the same forgiveness of you ; and be-
lieve me, for the sake of past pleasant passages,
I shall not forget my promise about the mort-
gage. . . . But here we must part. To tell you
the truth, I half an hour ago was fearfully near
becoming neither more nor less than a Christian.
I had actually deluded myself into the fancy that
the Deity of the Galileans might be, after all, the
God of our old Hebrew forefathers of Adam and
Eve, of Abraham and David, and of the rest who
believed that children and the fruit of the womb
were an heritage and gift which cometh of the
Lord and that Paul was right actually right
in his theory that the church was the develop-
ment and fulfilment of our old national polity. . . .
I must thank you for opening my eyes to a mistake
which, had I not been besotted for the moment,
every monk and nun would have contradicted by
the mere fact of their existence, and reserve my
nascent faith for some Deity who takes no delight
in seeing his creatures stultify the primary laws of
their being. Farewell ! "
And while the prefect stood petrified with
astonishment, he retired to the further extremity
of the deck, muttering to himself:
A Stray Gleam 1 3
" Did I not know all along that this gleam was
too sudden and too bright to last? Did I not know
that he, too, would prove himself like all the rest
an ass ? . . . Fool ! to have looked for common
sense on such an earth as this ! . . . Back to chaos
again, Raphael Aben-Ezra, and spin ropes of sand
to the end of the farce ! "
And mixing with the soldiers, he exchanged no
word with the prefect and his children, till they
reached the port of Berenice; and then putting
the necklace into Victoria's hands, vanished among
the crowds upon the quay, no one knew whither.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE PREFECT TESTED
WHEN we lost sight of Philammon, his destiny
had hurled him once more among his old
friends the Goths, in search of two important
elements of human comfort, freedom and a sister.
The former he found at once, in a large hall where
sundry Goths were lounging and toping, into the
nearest corner of which he shrank, and stood, his
late terror and rage forgotten altogether in the one
new and absorbing thought His sister might be
in that house ! . . . and yielding to so sweet a
dream, he began fancying to himself which of all
those gay maidens she might be who had become
in one moment more dear, more great to him, than
all things else in heaven or earth. That fair-haired,
rounded Italian? That fierce, luscious, aquiline-
faced Jewess? That delicate, swart, sidelong-eyed
Copt? No. She was Athenian, like himself.
That tall, lazy Greek girl, then, from beneath
whose sleepy lids flashed, once an hour, sudden
lightnings, revealing depths of thought and feeling
uncultivated, perhaps even unsuspected, by their
possessor? Her? Or that, her seeming sister?
Or the next? . . . Or was it Pelagia herself,
most beautiful and most sinful of them all? Fear-
ful thought! He blushed scarlet at the bare
imagination : yet why, in his secret heart, was that
the most pleasant hypothesis of them all? And
The Prefect Tested 1 5
suddenly flashed across him that observation of
one of the girls on board the boat, on his likeness
to Pelagia. Strange, that he had never recollected
it before ! It must be so ! and yet on what a slen-
der thread, woven of scattered hints and surmises,
did that " must" depend ! He would be sane ! he
would wait ; he would have patience. Patience,
with a sister yet unfound, perhaps perishing?
Impossible !
Suddenly the train of his thoughts was changed
perforce :
" Come ! come and see ! There 's a fight in the
streets," called one of the damsels down the stairs,
at the highest pitch of her voice.
" I sha'n't go," yawned a huge fellow, who was
lying on his back on a sofa.
" Oh come up, my hero," said one of the girls.
" Such a charming riot, and the prefect himself in
the middle of it ! We have not had such a one in
the street this month."
" The princes won't let me knock any of these
donkey-riders on the head, and seeing other people
do it only makes me envious. Give me the wine-
jug curse the girl ! she has run upstairs ! "
The shouting and trampling came nearer; and
in another minute Wulf came rapidly downstairs,
through the hall into the harem-court, and into
the presence of the Amal.
" Prince here is a chance for us. These ras-
cally Greeks are murdering their prefect under
our very windows."
" The lying cur ! Serve him right for cheating
us. He has plenty of guards. Why can't the
fool take care of himself? "
"They have all run away, and I saw some of
1 6 Hypatia
them hiding among the mob. As I live, the mam
will be killed in five minutes more."
"Why not?"
" Why should he, when we can save him and
win his favor for ever? The men's fingers are
itching for a fight; it's a bad plan not to give
hounds blood now and then, or they lose the
knack of hunting."
" Well, it would n't take five minutes."
" And heroes should show that they can forgive
when an enemy is in distress."
"Very true! Like an Amal too!" And the
Amal sprang up and shouted to his men to follow
him.
" Good-bye, my pretty one. Why, Wulf," cried
he, as he burst out into the court, " here 's our
monk again ! By Odin, you 're welcome, my
handsome boy ! come along and fight too, young
fellow; what were those arms given you for?"
" He is my man," said Wulf, laying his hand on
Philammon's shoulder, " and blood he shall
taste." And out the three hurried, Philammon,
in his present reckless mood, ready for anything.
" Bring your whips. Never mind swords. Those
rascals are not worth it, " shouted the Amal, as he
hurried down the passage brandishing his heavy
thong, some ten feet in length, threw the gate
open, and the next moment recoiled from a dense
crush of people who surged in and surged out
again as rapidly as the Goth, with the combined
force of his weight and arm, hewed his way
straight through them, felling a wretch at every
blow, and followed up by his terrible companions.
They were but just in time. The four white
blood-horses were plunging and rolling over each
The Prefect Tested 17
other, and Orestes reeling in his chariot, with a
stream of blood running down his face, and the
hands of twenty wild monks clutching at him.
" Monks again ! " thought Philammon ; and as he
saw among them more than one hateful face, which
he recollected in Cyril's court-yard on that fatal
night, a flush of fierce revenge ran through him.
" Mercy ! " shrieked the miserable prefect, " I
am a Christian ! I swear that I am a Christian ! the
Bishop Atticus baptized me at Constantinople ! "
" Down with the butcher ! down with the heathen
tyrant, who refuses the adjuration on the Gospels
rather than be reconciled to the patriarch ! Tear
him out of the chariot ! " yelled the monks.
" The craven hound ! " said the Amal, stopping
short, " I won't help him ! " But in an instant
Wulf rushed forward, and struck right and left;
the monks recoiled, and Philammon, burning to
prevent so shameful a scandal to the faith to which
he still clung convulsively, sprang into the chariot
and caught Orestes in his arms.
"You are safe, my lord; don't struggle," whis-
pered he, while the monks flew on him. A stone
or two struck him, but they only quickened his
determination, and in another moment the whis-
tling of the whips round his head, and the yell and
backward rush of the monks, told him that he was
safe. He carried his burden safely within the
doorway of Pelagia's house, into the crowd of
peeping and shrieking damsels, where twenty pair
of the prettiest hands in Alexandria seized on
Orestes, and drew him into the court.
"Like a second Hylas, carried off by the
nymphs ! " simpered he, as he vanished into the
harem, to reappear in five minutes, his head bound
1 8 Hypatia
up with silk handkerchiefs, and with as much of
his usual impudence as he could muster.
"Your excellency heroes all I am your
devoted slave. I owe you life itself; and more,
the valor of your succor is only surpassed by
the deliciousness of your cure. I would gladly
undergo a second wound to enjoy a second time
the services of such hands, and to see such feet
busying themselves on my behalf."
" You would n't have said that five minutes ago,"
quoth the Amal, looking at him very much as a
bear might at a monkey.
"Never mind the hands and feet, old fellow,
they are none of yours ! " bluntly observed a voice
from behind, probably Smid's, and a laugh ensued.
" My saviors, my brothers ! " said Orestes,
politely ignoring the laughter. " How can I repay
you ? Is there anything in which my office here
enables me I will not say to reward, for that
would be a term beneath your dignity as free bar-
barians but to gratify you ? "
" Give us three days' pillage of the quarter ! "
shouted some one.
" Ah, true valor is apt to underrate obstacles ;
you forget your small numbers."
" I say," quoth the Amal ; " I say, take care,
prefect If you mean to tell me that we forty
could n't cut all the throats in Alexandria in three
days, and yours into the bargain, and keep your
soldiers at bay all the time "
" Half of them would join us ! " cried some one.
"They are half our own flesh and blood after
all ! "
" Pardon me, my friends, I do not doubt it a
moment I know enough of the world never to
The Prefect Tested 1 9
have found a sheep-dog yet who would not, on
occasion, help to make away with a little of the
mutton which he guarded. Eh, my venerable
sir ? " turning to Wulf, with a knowing bow.
Wulf chuckled grimly, and said something to
the Amal in German about being civil to guests.
" You will pardon me, my heroic friends," said
Orestes, "but, with your kind permission, I will
observe that I am somewhat faint and disturbed
by late occurrences. To trespass on your hospi-
tality further would be an impertinence. If, there-
fore, I might send a slave to find some of my
apparitors "
" No, by all the gods ! " roared the Amal ;
"you're my guest now -'my lady's at least.
And no one ever went out of my house sober yet
if I could help it. Set the cooks to work, my
men ! The prefect shall feast with us like an em-
peror, and we '11 send him home to-night as drunk
as he can wish. Come along, your excellency;
we 're rough fellows, we Goths ; but by the Val-
kyrs, no one can say that we neglect our guests ! "
" It is a sweet compulsion," said Orestes, as he
went in.
" Stop, by the by ! Did n't one of you men
catch a monk? "
" Here he is, prince, with his elbows safe behind
him." And a tall, haggard, half-naked monk was
dragged forward.
" Capital ! bring him in. His excellency shall
judge him while dinner 's cooking, and Smid shall
have the hanging of him. He hurt nobody in the
scuffle ; he was thinking of his dinner."
" Some rascal bit a piece out of my leg, and I
tumbled down," grumbled Smid.
Vol. 72
2O Hypatia
" Well, pay out this fellow for it, then. Bring a
chair, slaves ! Here, your highness, sit there and
judge."
" Two chairs ! " said some one ; " the Amal
sha'n't stand, before the emperor himself."
" By all means, my dear friends. The Amal
and I will act as the two Caesars, with divided
empire. I presume we shall have little difference
of opinion as to the hanging of this worthy."
" Hanging 's too quick for him."
"Just what I was about to remark there are
certain judicial formalities, considered generally to
be conducive to the stability, if not necessary to
the existence, of the Roman empire "
" I say, don't talk so much," shouted a Goth.
" If you want to have the hanging of him yourself,
do. We thought we would save you trouble."
" Ah, my excellent friend, would you rob me of
the delicate pleasure of revenge? I intend to
spend at least four hours to-morrow in killing this
pious martyr. He will have a good time to think,
between the beginning and the end of the rack."
" Do you hear that, master monk ? " said Smid,
chucking him under the chin, while the rest of the
party seemed to think the whole business an excel-
lent joke, and divided their ridicule openly enough
between the prefect and his victim.
" The man of blood has said it I am a martyr,"
answered the monk, in a dogged voice.
" You will take a good deal of time in becoming
one."
" Death may be long, but glory is everlasting."
"True. I forgot that, and will save you the
said glory, if I can help it, for a year or two.
Who was it struck me with the stone?"
The Prefect Tested 21
No answer.
" Tell me, and the moment he is in my lictors'
hands I pardon you freely."
The monk laughed. " Pardon ? Pardon me
eternal bliss, and the things unspeakable, which
God has prepared for those who love Him?
Tyrant and butcher! I struck thee, thou second
Diocletian I hurled the stone I, Ammonius.
Would to heaven that it had smitten thee through,
thou Sisera, like the nail of Jael the Kenite ! "
" Thanks, my friend. Heroes, you have a cellar
for monks as well as for wine ? I will trouble you
with this hero's psalm-singing to-night, and send
my apparitors for him in the morning."
" If he begins howling when we are in bed, your
men won't find much of him left in the morning,"
said the Amal. " But here come the slaves, an-
nouncing dinner."
" Stay," said Orestes ; " there is one more with
whom I have an account to settle that young
philosopher there."
" Oh, he is coming in, too. He never was
drunk in his life, I '11 warrant, poor fellow, and it 's
high time for him to begin." And the Amal laid a
good-natured bear's paw on Philammon's shoulder,
who hung back in perplexity, and cast a piteous
look towards Wulf.
Wulf answered it by a shake of the head, which
gave Philammon courage to stammer out a courte-
ous refusal. The Amal swore an oath at him which
made the cloister ring again, and with a quiet
shove of his heavy hand, sent him staggering half
across the court: but Wulf interposed.
41 The boy is mine, prince. He is no drunkard,
and I will not let him become one. Would to
22 Hypatia
heaven," added he, under his breath, "that I
could say the same to some others. Send us out
our supper here, when you are done. Half a
sheep or so will do between us; and enough of
the strongest to wash it down with. Smid knows
my quantity."
" Why in heaven's name are you not coming
in?"
" That mob will be trying to burst the gates
again before two hours are out ; and as some one
must stand sentry, it may as well be a man who
will not have his ears stopped up by wine and
women's kisses. The boy will stay with me."
So the party went in, leaving Wulf and Phil-
ammon alone in the outer hall.
There the two sat for some half hour, casting
stealthy glances at each other, and wondering,
perhaps, each of them vainly enough, what was
going on in the opposite brain. Philammon,
though his heart was full of his sister, could not
help noticing the air of deep sadness which hung
about the scarred and weather-beaten features of
the old warrior. The grimness which he had re-
marked on their first meeting seemed to be now
changed into a settled melancholy. The furrows
round his mouth and eyes had become deeper
and sharper. Some perpetual indignation seemed
smouldering in the knitted brow and protruding
upper lip. He sat there silent and motionless for
some half-hour, his chin resting on his hands, and
they again upon the butt of his axe, apparently in
deep thought, and listening with a silent sneer at
the clinking of glasses and dishes within.
Philammon felt too much respect both for his
age, and his stately sadness, to break the silence.
The Prefect Tested 23
At last some louder burst of merriment than usual
aroused him.
" What do you call that? " said he, speaking in
Greek.
" Folly and vanity."
" And what does she there the Alruna the
prophet- woman, call it?"
" Whom do you mean ? "
" Why, the Greek woman whom we went to hear
talk this morning."
" Folly and vanity."
" Why can't she cure that Roman hairdresser
there of it, then?"
Philammon was silent : " Why not, indeed ! "
" Do you think she could cure'any one of it?"
"Of what?"
" Of getting drunk, and wasting their strength
and their fame, and their hard-won treasures upon
eating and drinking, and fine clothes, and bad
women."
"She is most pure herself, and she preaches
purity to all who hear her."
" Curse preaching. I have preached for these
four months."
" Perhaps she may have some more winning
arguments perhaps "
" I know. Such a beautiful bit of flesh and blood
as she is might get a hearing, when a grizzled old
head-splitter like me was called a dotard. Eh?
Well. It's natural."
A long silence.
" She is a grand woman. I never saw such a
one, and I have seen many. There was a prophet-
ess once, lived in an island in the Weser-stream
and when a man saw her, even before she spoke a
24 Hypatia
word, one longed to crawl to her feet on all fours,
and say, ' There, tread on me ; I am not fit for you
to wipe your feet upon.' And many a warrior did
it. ... Perhaps I may have done it myself, before
now. . . . And this one is strangely like her. She
would make a prince's wife, now."
Philammon started. What new feeling was it,
which made him indignant at the notion?
" Beauty? What 's body without soul ! What 's
beauty without wisdom? What's beauty without
chastity? Beast! fool! wallowing in the mire
which every hog has fouled ! "
" Like a jewel of gold in a swine's snout, so is a
fair woman who is without discretion."
"Who said that?"
" Solomon, the king of Israel."
" I never heard of him. But he was a right
Sagaman, whoever said it. And she is a pure
maiden, that other one ? "
" Spotless as the " blessed Virgin, Philammon
was going to say but checked himself. There
were sad recollections about the words.
Wulf sat silent for a few minutes, while Philam-
mon's thoughts reverted at once to the new pur-
pose for which alone life seemed worth having. . . .
To find his sister ! That one thought had in a few
hours changed and matured the boy into the man.
Hitherto he had been only the leaf before the
wind, the puppet of every new impression; but
now circumstance, which had been leading him
along in such soft fetters for many a month, was
become his deadly foe; and all his energy and
cunning, all his little knowledge of man and of
society, rose up sturdily and shrewdly to fight in
this new cause. Wulf was now no longer a
The Prefect Tested 25
phenomenon to be wondered at, but an instrument
to be used. The broken hints which he had just
given of discontent with Pelagia's presence inspired
the boy with sudden hope, and cautiously he be-
gan to hint at the existence of persons who would
be glad to remove her. Wulf caught at the notion,
and replied to it with searching questions, till
Philammon, finding plain speaking the better part
of cunning, told him openly the whole events of
the morning, and the mystery which Arsenius had
half revealed, and then shuddered with mingled joy
and horror, as Wulf, after ruminating over the
matter for a weary five minutes, made answer:
" And what if Pelagia herself were your sister? "
Philammon was bursting forth in some passion-
ate answer, when the old man stopped him,
and went on slowly, looking him through and
through :
" Because, when a penniless young monk claims
kin with a woman who is drinking out of the wine-
cups of the Caesars, and filling a place for a share
of which kings' daughters have been thankful
and will be again before long why then, though
an old man may be too good-natured to call it all
a lie at first sight, he can't help supposing that the
young monk has an eye to his own personal profit,
eh?"
"My profit?" cried poor Philammon, starting
up. " Good God ! what object on earth can I
have, but to rescue her from this infamy to purity
and holiness ? "
He had touched the wrong chord.
" Infamy? you accursed Egyptian slave ! " cried
the Prince, starting up in his turn, red with passion,
and clutching at the whip which hung over his
26 Hypatia
head. " Infamy? As if she, and you too, ought
not to consider yourselves blest in her being al-
lowed to wash the feet of an Amal ! "
" Oh, forgive me ! " said Philammon, terrified at
the fruits of his own clumsiness. " But you forget
you forget, she is not married to him ! "
"Married to him? A freedwoman? No; thank
Freya ! he has not fallen as low as that, at least :
and never shall, if I kill the witch with my own
hands. A freedwoman ! "
Poor Philammon ! And he had been told but
that morning that he was a slave. He hid his
face in his hands, and burst into an agony of
tears.
" Come, come," said the testy warrior, softened
at once. " Woman's tears don't matter ; but
somehow I never could bear to make a man cry.
When you are cool, and have learnt common
courtesy, we '11 talk more about this. So ! Hush ;
enough is enough. Here comes the supper, and I
am as hungry as Loke."
And he commenced devouring like his name-
sake, " the gray beast of the wood," and forcing,
in his rough hospitable way, Philammon to devour
also, much against his will and stomach.
" There. I feel happier now ! " quoth Wulf, at
last. " There is nothing to be done in this ac-
cursed place but to eat. I get no fighting, no
hunting. I hate women as they hate me. I don't
know anything, indeed, that I don't hate, except
eating and singing. And now, what with those
girls' vile unmanly harps and flutes, no one cares
to listen to a true rattling war-song. There they
are at it now, with their caterwauling, squealing
all together like a set of starlings on a foggy
The Prefect Tested 27
morning ! We '11 have a song, too, to drown the
noise." And he burst out with a wild rich melody,
acting, in uncouth gestures and a suppressed tone
of voice, the scene which the words described :
An elk looked out of the pine forest ;
He snuffed up east, he snuffed down west,
Stealthy and still.
His mane and his horns were heavy with snow ;
I laid my arrow across my bow,
Stealthy and still.
And then, quickening his voice, as his whole face
blazed up into fierce excitement:
The bow it rattled, the arrow flew,
It smote his blade-bones through and through,
Hurrah !
I sprang at his throat like a wolf of the wood,
And I wanned my hands in the smoking blood,
Hurrah!
And, with a shout that echoed and rang from wall
to wall, and pealed away above the roofs, he leapt
to his feet with a gesture and look of savage frenzy
which made Philammon recoil. But the passion
was gone in an instant, and Wulf sat down again,
chuckling to himself:
"There that is something like a warrior's
song. That makes the old blood spin along
again ! But this debauching furnace of a cli-
mate ! no man can keep his muscle, or his cour-
age, or his money, or anything else in it. May
the gods curse the day when first I saw it ! "
Philammon said nothing, but sat utterly aghast
at an outbreak so unlike Wulfs usual caustic re-
serve, and stately self-restraint, and shuddering at
28 Hypatia
the thought that it might be an instance of that
demoniac possession to which these barbarians
were supposed by Christians and by Neo-Platon-
ists to be peculiarly subject. But the horror was
not yet at its height; for in another minute the
doors of the women's court flew open, and, at-
tracted by Wulf s shout, out poured the whole
Bacchanalian crew, with Orestes, crowned with
flowers, and led by the Amal and Pelagia, reel-
ing in the midst, wine-cup in hand.
"There is my philosopher, my preserver, my
patron saint ! " hiccoughed he. " Bring him to my
arms, that I may encircle his lovely neck with
pearls of India, and barbaric gold ! "
" For God's sake let me escape ! " whispered he
to Wulf, as the rout rushed upon him. Wulf
opened the door in an instant, and he dashed
through it. As he went, the old man held out
his hand :
" Come and see me again, boy ! Me only.
The old warrior will not hurt you ! "
There was a kindly tone in the voice, a kindly
light in the eye, which made Philammon promise
to obey. He glanced one look back through the
gateway as he fled, and just saw a wild whirl of
Goths and girls, spinning madly round the court
in the world-old Teutonic waltz ; while, high above
their heads, in the uplifted arms of the mighty
Amal, was tossing the beautiful figure of Pelagia,
tearing the garland from her floating hair to pelt
the dancers with its roses. And that might be
his sister ! He hid his face and fled, and the gate
shut out the revellers from his eyes ; and it is high
time that it should shut them out from ours also.
Some four hours more had passed. The revel-
The Prefect Tested 29
Icrs were sleeping off their wine, and the moon
shining bright and cold across the court, when
Wulf came out, carrying a heavy jar of wine,
followed by Smid, a goblet in each hand.
" Here, comrade, out into the middle, to catch a
breath of night-air. Are all the fools asleep?"
" Every mother's son of them. Ah ! this is
refreshing after that room. What a pity it is that
all men are not born with heads like ours ! "
" Very sad indeed," said Wulf, filling his goblet.
" What a quantity of pleasure they lose in this
life ! There they are, snoring like hogs. Now,
you and I are good to finish this jar, at least."
" And another after it, if our talk is not over by
that time."
"Why, are you going to hold a council of war? "
" That is as you take it. Now, look here, Smid.
Whomsoever I cannot trust, I suppose I may trust
you, eh?"
" Well ! " quoth Smid, surlily putting down his
goblet, " that is a strange question to ask of a man
who has marched, and hungered, and plundered,
and conquered, and been well beaten by your
side for five-and-twenty years, through all lands
between the Wesel and Alexandria ! "
" I am growing old, I suppose, and so I suspect
every one. But hearken to me, for between wine
and ill-temper out it must come. You saw that
Alruna-woman ? "
" Of course."
"Well?"
"Well?"
"Why, did not you think she would make a
wife for any man ? "
"Well?"
30 Hypatia
" And why not for our Amal?"
" That 's his concern as well as hers, and hers as
well as ours."
" She? Ought she not to think herself only too
much honored by marrying a son of Odin? Is
she going to be more dainty than Placidia?"
"What was good enough for an emperor's
daughter must be good enough for her."
" Good enough ? And Adolf only a Bait, while
Amalric is a full-blooded Amal Odin's son by
both sides?"
" I don't know whether she would understand
that."
" Then we would make her. Why not carry
her off, and marry her to the Amal whether she
chose or not? She would be well content enough
with him in a week, I will warrant."
" But there is Pelagia in the way."
" Put her out of the way, then."
" Impossible."
" It was this' morning ; a week hence it may not
be. I heard a promise made to-night which will
do it, if there be the spirit of a Goth left in the
poor besotted lad whom we know of."
"Oh, he is all right at heart; never fear him.
But what was the promise ? "
" I will not tell till it is claimed. I will not be
the man to shame my own nation and the blood
of the gods. But if that drunken prefect recollects
it why let him recollect it. And what is more,
the monk-boy who was here to-night "
" Ah, what a well-grown lad that is wasted ! "
" More than suspects and if his story is true,
I more than suspect too that Pelagia is his
sister."
The Prefect Tested 31
His sister ! But what of that ? "
" He wants, of course, to carry her off, and
make a nun of her."
"You would not let him do such a thing to the
poor child ? "
" If folks get in my way, Smid, they must go
down. So much the worse for them: but old
Wulf was never turned back yet by man or beast,
and he will not be now."
"After all, it will serve the hussy right. But
Amalric? "
" Out of sight, out of mind."
" But they say the prefect means to marry the
girl."
"He? That scented ape? She would not be
such a wretch."
" But he does intend ; and she intends too. It
is the talk of the whole town. We should have to
put him out of the way first."
" Why not? Easy enough, and a good riddance
for Alexandria. Yet if we made away with him
we should be forced to take the city too ; and I
doubt whether we have hands enough for that."
" The guards might join us. I will go down to
the barracks and try them, if you choose, to-mor-
row. I am boon-companion with a good many of
them already. But, after all, Prince Wulf of
course you are always right; we all know that
but what's the use of marrying this Hypatia to
the Amal?"
" Use?" said Wulf, smiting down his goblet on
the pavement. " Use ? you purblind old hamster-
rat, who think of nothing but filling your own
cheek-pouches ! to give him a wife worthy of a
hero, as he is, in spite of all a wife who will
3 2 Hypatia
make him sober instead of drunk, wise instead of
a fool, daring instead of a sluggard a wife who
can command the rich people for us, and give us
a hold here, which if once we get, let us see
who will break it ! Why, with those two ruling
in Alexandria, we might be masters of Africa in
three months. We 'd send to Spain for the Wen-
dels, to move on Carthage ; we 'd send up the
Adriatic for the Longbeards to land in Penta-
polis ; we 'd sweep the whole coast without losing
a man, now it is drained of troops by that fool
Heraclian's Roman expedition ; make the Wendels
and Longbeards shake hands here in Alexandria ;
draw lots for their shares of the coast; and
then! "
"And then what?"
" Why, when we had settled Africa, I would call
out a crew of picked heroes, and sail away south
for Asgard I 'd try that Red Sea this time
and see Odin face to face, or die searching for
him."
" Oh ! " groaned Smid. " And I suppose you
would expect me to come too, instead of letting
me stop halfway, and settle there among the drag-
ons and elephants. Well, well, wise men are like
moorlands ride as far as you will on the sound
ground, you are sure to come upon a soft place at
last. However, I will go down to the guards to-
morrow, if my head don't ache."
" And I will see the boy about Pelagia. Drink
to our plot I "
And the two old iron-heads drank on, till the
stars paled out, and the eastward shadows of the
cloister vanished in the blaze of dawn.
CHAPTER XIX
JEWS AGAINST CHRISTIANS
THE little porter, after having carried Arsen-
ius's message to Miriam, had run back in
search of Philammon and his foster-father ; and not
finding them, had spent the evening in such frantic
rushings to and fro, as produced great doubts of
his sanity among the people of the quarter. At
last hunger sent him home to supper; at which
meal he tried to find vent for his excited feelings
in his favorite employment of beating his wife.
Whereon Miriam's two Syrian slave-girls, attracted
by her screams, came to the rescue, threw a pail
of water over him, and turned him out of doors.
He, nothing discomfited, likened himself smilingly
to Socrates conquered by Xantippe; and, philo-
sophically yielding to circumstances, hopped about
like a tame magpie for a couple of hours at the
entrance of the alley, pouring forth a stream of
light raillery on the passers-by, which several times
endangered his personal safety; till at last Phil-
ammon, hurrying breathlessly home, rushed into
his arms.
" Hush ! Hither with me ! Your star still pros-
pers. She calls for you."
"Who?"
" Miriam herself. Be secret as the grave. You
she will see and speak with. The message of Arsen-
ius she rejected in language which it is unnecessary
34 Hypatia
for philosophic lips to repeat. Come; but give
her good words as are fit to an enchantress who
can stay the stars in their courses, and command
the spirits of the third heaven."
Philammon hurried home with Eudaemon. Little
cared he now for Hypatia's warning against Mir-
iam. . . . Was he not in search of a sister?
" So, you wretch, you are back again ! " cried
one of the girls, as they knocked at the outer door
of Miriam's apartments. " What do you mean by
bringing young men here at this time of night?"
" Better go down, and beg pardon of that poor
wife of yours. She has been weeping and pray-
ing for you to her crucifix all the evening, you un-
grateful little ape ! "
" Female superstitions but I forgive her. . . .
Peace, barbarian women! I bring this youthful
philosopher hither by your mistress's own appoint-
ment."
" He must wait, then, in the ante-room. There
is a gentleman with my mistress at present."
So Philammon waited in a dark, dingy ante-
room, luxuriously furnished with faded tapestry,
and divans which lined the walls ; and fretted and
fidgeted, while the two girls watched him over their
embroidery out of the corners of their eyes, and
agreed that he was a very stupid person for
showing no inclination to return their languishing
glances.
In the meanwhile, Miriam, within, was listening,
with a smile of grim delight, to a swarthy and
weather-beaten young Jew.
" I knew, mother in Israel, that all depended on
my pace; and night and day I rode from Ostia
toward Tarentum: but the messenger of the un-
Jews against Christians 35
circumcised was better mounted than I ; I therefore
bribed a certain slave to lame his horse, and passed
him by a whole stage on the second day. Never-
theless, by night the Philistine had caught me up
again, the evil angels helping him ; and my soul
was mad within me."
" And what then, Jonadab Bar-Zebudah?"
" I bethought me of Ehud, and of Joab also,
when he was pursued by Asahel, and considered
much of the lawfulness of the deed, not being a
man of blood. Nevertheless, we were together in
the darkness, and I smote him."
Miriam clapped her hands.
"Then putting on his clothes, and taking his let-
ters and credentials, as was but reasonable, I passed
myself off for the messenger of the emperor, and
so rode the rest of that journey at the expense of
the heathen ; and I hereby return you the balance
saved."
" Never mind the balance. Keep it, thou worthy
son of Jacob. What next?"
" When I came to Tarentum, I sailed in the galley
which I had chartered from certain sea-robbers.
Valiant men they were, nevertheless, and kept true
faith with me. For when we had come halfway,
rowing with all our might, behold another galley
coming in our wake and about to pass us by, which
I knew for an Alexandrian, as did the captain also,
who assured me that she had come from hence to
Brundusium with letters from Orestes."
"Well?"
" It seemed to me both base to be passed, and
more base to waste all the expense wherewith you
and our elders had charged themselves ; so I took
counsel with the man of blood, offering him, over
36 Hypatia
and above our bargain, two hundred gold pieces of
my own, which please to pay to my account with
Rabbi Ezekiel, who lives by the Watergate in Pelu-
sium. Then the pirates, taking counsel, agreed to
run down the enemy ; for our galley was a sharp-
beaked Liburnian, while theirs was only a messen-
ger trireme."
"And you did it?"
" Else had I not been here. They were delivered
into our hands, so that we struck them full in mid-
length, and they sank like Pharaoh and his host."
" So perish all the enemies of the nation ! " cried
Miriam. " And now it is impossible, you say, for
fresh news to arrive for these ten days ? "
" Impossible, the captain assured me, owing to
the rising of the wind, and the signs of southerly
storm."
" Here, take this letter for the chief rabbi, and
the blessing of a mother in Israel. Thou hast
played the man for thy people ; and thou shalt go
to the grave full of years and honors, with men-
servants and maid-servants, gold and silver, chil-
dren and children's children, with thy foot on the
necks of heathens, and the blessing of Abraham,
Isaac, and Jacob, to eat of the goose which is fat-
tening in the desert, and the Leviathan which lieth
in the great sea, to be meat for all true Israelites
at the last day."
And the Jew turned and went out, perhaps, in
his simple fanaticism, the happiest man in Egypt
at that moment.
He passed out through the ante-chamber, leer-
ing at the slave-girls, and scowling at Philammon ;
and the youth was ushered into the presence of
Miriam.
Jews against Christians 37
She sat, coiled up like a snake, on a divan writ-
ing busily in a tablet upon her knees, while on the
cushions beside her glittered splendid jewels, which
she had been fingering over as a child might its
toys. She did not look up for a few minutes ; and
Philammon could not help, in spite of his impa-
tience, looking round the little room and contrast-
ing its dirty splendor, and heavy odor of wine,
and food, and perfumes, with the sunny grace and
cleanliness of Greek houses. Against the wall
stood presses and chests fretted with fantastic
Oriental carving; illuminated rolls of parchment
lay in heaps in a corner ; a lamp of strange form
hung from the ceiling, and shed a dim and lurid
light upon an object which chilled the youth's
blood for a moment a bracket against the wall,
on which, in a plate of gold, engraven with mystic
signs, stood the mummy of an infant's head ; one
of those teraphim, from which, as Philammon
knew, the sorcerers of the East professed to
evoke oracular responses.
At last, she looked up, and spoke in a shrill,
harsh voice.
" Well, my fair boy, and what do you want with
the poor old proscribed Jewess? Have you cov-
eted yet any of the pretty things which she has
had the wit to make her slave-demons save from
the Christian robbers?"
Philammon's tale was soon told. The old woman
listened, watching him intently with her burning
eye; and then answered slowly:
" Well, and what if you are a slave ? "
"Am I one, then? Ami?"
" Of course you are. Arsenius spoke truth. I
saw him buy you at Ravenna, just fifteen years
38 Hypatia
ago. I bought your sister at the same time.
She is two-and-twenty now. You were four years
younger than her, I should say."
" Oh heaven ! and you know my sister still ! Is
she Pelagia?"
"You were a pretty boy," went on the hag,
apparently not hearing him. " If I had thought
you were going to grow up as beautiful and as
clever as you are, I would have bought you
myself. The Goths were just marching, and Ar-
senius gave only eighteen gold pieces for you or
twenty I am growing old, and forget everything,
I think. But there would have been the expense
of your education, and your sister cost me in
training oh what sums ? Not that she was not
worth the money no, no, the darling ! "
" And you know where she is ? Oh tell me
in the name of mercy, tell me ! "
"Why, then?"
"Why, then? Have you not the heart of a
human being in you? Is she not my sister?"
"Well? You have done very well for fifteen
years without your sister why can you not do as
well now? You don't recollect her you don't
love her."
" Not love her ? I would die for her die for
you if you will but help me to see her ! "
" You would, would you ? And if I brought you
to her, what then ? What if she were Pelagia her-
self, what then ? She is happy enough now, and
rich enough. Could you make her happier or
richer?"
" Can you ask? I must I will reclaim her
from the infamy in which I am sure she lives."
" Ah ha, sir monk ! I expected as much. I know,
Jews against Christians 39
none knows better, what those fine words mean.
The burnt child dreads the fire : but the burnt old
woman quenches it, you will find. Now listen. I
do not say that you shall not see her I do not
say that Pelagia herself is not the woman whom
you seek but you are in my power. Don't
frown and pout. I can deliver you as a slave to
Arsenius when I choose. One word from me to
Orestes, and you are in fetters as a fugitive."
" I will escape ! " cried he, fiercely.
"Escape me?" she laughed, pointing to the
teraph " me, who, if you fled beyond Kaf, or
dived to the depths of the ocean, could make these
dead lips confess where you were, and command
demons to bear you back to me upon their wings !
Escape me! Better to obey me, and see your
sister."
Philammon shuddered and submitted. The spell
of the woman's eye, the terror of her words, which he
half believed, and the agony of longing, conquered
him, and he gasped out:
" I will obey you only only "
" Only you are not quite a man yet, but half a
monk still, eh? I must know that before I help
you, my pretty boy. Are you a monk still, or a
man?"
" What do you mean ? "
" Ah, ha, ha ! " laughed she, shrilly. " And these
Christian dogs don't know what a man means?
Are you a monk, then ? leaving the man alone, as
above your understanding."
" I ? I am a student of philosophy."
" But no man ? "
" I am a man, I suppose."
1 don't ; if you had been, you would have been
40 Hypatia
making love like a man to that heathen woman
many a month ago."
"I to her?"
" Yes, I to her ! " said Miriam, coarsely imi-
tating his tone of shcoked humility. " I, the poor
penniless boy-scholar, to her, the great, rich, wise,
worshipped she-philosopher, who holds the sacred
keys of the inner shrine of the east wind and just
because I am a man, and the handsomest man in
Alexandria, and she a woman, and the vainest
woman in Alexandria, and therefore I am stronger
than she, and can twist her round my finger, and
bring her to her knees at my feet when I like, as
soon as I open my eyes, and discover that I am a
man. Eh, boy? Did she ever teach you that
among her mathematics and metaphysics, and
gods and goddesses?"
Philammon stood blushing scarlet. The sweet
poison had entered, and every vein glowed with
it for. the first time in his life. Miriam saw her
advantage.
" There, there don't be frightened at your new
lesson. After all, I liked you from the first moment
I saw you, and asked the teraph about you, and I
got an answer such an answer ! You shall
know it some day. At all events, it set the poor
old soft-hearted Jewess on throwing away her
money. Did you ever guess from whom your
monthly gold-piece came?"
Philammon started, and Miriam burst into loud,
shrill laughter.
" From Hypatia, I '11 warrant ! From the fair
Greek woman, of course vain child that you
are never thinking of the poor old Jewess."
" And did you ? did you ? " gasped Philammon.
Jews against Christians 41
"Have I to thank you, then, for that strange
generosity? "
" Not to thank me, but to obey me ; for mind, I
can prove your debt to me, every obol, and claim
it if I choose. But don't fear ; I won't be hard on
you, just because you are in my power. I hate
every one who is not so. As soon as I have a
hold on them, I begin to love them. Old folks,
like children, are fond of their own playthings."
"And I am yours, then?" said Philammon,
fiercely.
"You are indeed, my beautiful boy," answered
she, looking up with so insinuating a smile that he
could not be angry. "After all, I know how to
toss my balls gently and for these forty years I
have only lived to make young folks happy; so
you need not be afraid of the poor soft-hearted old
woman. Now you saved Orestes's life yesterday."
" How did you find out that? "
" I ? I know everything. I know what the
swallows say when they pass each other on the
wing, and what the fishes think of in the summer
sea. You, too, will be able to guess some day, with-
out the teraph's help. But in the meantime you
must enter Orestes's service. Why? What are you
hesitating about? Do you not know that you are
high in his favor? He will make you secretary
raise you to be chamberlain some day, if you know
how to make good use of your fortune."
Philammon stood in astonished silence; and at
last:
" Servant to that man ? What care I for him
or his honors? Why do you tantalize me thus?
I have no wish on earth but to see my sister ! "
" You will be far more likely to see her if you
42 Hypatia
belong to the court of a great officer perhaps
more than an officer than if you remain a penni-
less monk. Not that I believe you. Your only
wish on earth, eh? Do you not care, then, ever
to see the fair Hypatia again ? "
"I? Why should I not see her? Am I not her
pupil?"
" She will not have pupils much longer, my
child. If you wish to hear her wisdom and
much good may it do you you must go for it
henceforth somewhat nearer to Orestes's palace
than the lecture-room is. Ah! you start. Have
I found you an argument now? No ask no
questions. I explain nothing to monks. But take
these letters ; to-morrow morning at the third hour
go to Orestes's palace, and ask for his secretary,
Ethan the Chaldee. Say boldly that you bring
important news of state; and then follow your
star : it is a fairer one than you fancy. Go ! obey
me, or you see no sister."
Philammon felt himself trapped ; but, after all,
what might not this strange woman do for him?
It seemed, if not his only path, still his nearest
path to Pelagia ; and in the meanwhile he was in
the hag's power, and he must submit to his fate ;
so he took the letters and went out.
" And so you think that you are going to have
her?" chuckled Miriam to herself, when Philam-
mon went out. " To make a penitent of her,
eh? a nun, or a she-hermit; to set her to ap-
pease your God by crawling on all-fours among
the mummies for twenty years, with a chain round
her neck and a clog at her ankle, fancying herself
all the while the bride of the Nazarene ? And you
think that old Miriam is going to give her up to
Jews against Christians 43
you for that? No, no, sir monk! Better she
were dead ! . . . Follow your dainty bait ! follow
it, as the donkey does the grass which his driver
offers him, always an inch from his nose. . . . You
in my power ! and Orestes in my power ! . . . I
must negotiate that new loan to-morrow, I sup-
pose. ... I shall never be paid. The dog will
ruin me, after all ! How much is it, now ? Let
me see." . . . And she began fumbling in her
escritoire, over bonds and notes of hand. " I shall
never be paid ; but power ! to have power ! To
see those heathen slaves and Christian hounds
plotting and vaporing, and fancying themselves
the masters of the world, and never dreaming that
we are pulling the strings, and that they are our
puppets ! we, the children of the promises we,
The Nation we, the seed of Abraham I Poor
fools ! I could almost pity them, as I think of
their faces when Messiah comes, and they find out
who were the true lords of the world, after
all ! ... He must be Emperor of the South,
though, that Orestes ; he must, though I have to
lend him Raphael's jewels to make him so. For
he must marry the Greek woman. He shall. She
hates him, of course. ... So much the deeper
revenge for me. And she loves that monk. I saw
it in her eyes there in the garden. So much the
better for me, too. He will dangle willingly enough
at Orestes's heels for the sake of being near her
poor fool 1 We will make him secretary, or cham-
berlain. He has wit enough for it, they say, or
for anything. So Orestes and he shall be the two
jaws of my pincers, to squeeze what I want out of
that Greek Jezebel. . . . And then, then for the
black agate ! "
Vol. 7-3
44 Hypatia
Was the end of her speech a bathos ? Perhaps
not ; for as she spoke the last word, she drew from
her bosom, where it hung round her neck by a
chain, a broken talisman, exactly similar to the
one which she coveted so fiercely, and looked at
it long and lovingly kissed it wept over it
spoke to it fondled it in her arms as a mother
would a child murmured over it snatches of
lullabies; and her grim, withered features grew
softer, purer, grander; and rose ennobled, for a
moment, to their long-lost might-have-been, to
that personal ideal which every soul brings with
it into the world, which shines, dim and potential,
in the face of every sleeping babe, before it has
been scarred, and distorted, and encrusted in the
long tragedy of life. Sorceress she was, pander
and slave-dealer, steeped to the lips in falsehood,
ferocity, and avarice ; yet that paltry stone brought
home to her some thought, true, spiritual, impal-
pable, unmarketable, before which all her treasures
and all her ambition were as worthless in her own
eyes as they were in the eyes of the angels of God.
But little did Miriam think that at the same
moment a brawny, clownish monk was standing in
Cyril's private chamber, and indulged with the
special honor of a cup of good wine in the
patriarch's very presence, was telling to him and
Arsenius the following history :
" So I, finding that the Jews had chartered this
pirate-ship, went to the master thereof, and finding
favor in his eyes, hired myself to row therein,
being sure, from what I had overheard from the
Jews, that she was destined to bring the news to
Alexandria as quickly as possible. Therefore, ful-
filling the work which his holiness had intrusted
Jews against Christians 45
to my incapacity, I embarked, and rowed continu-
ally among the rest ; and being unskilled in such
labor, received many curses and stripes in the
cause of the Church the which I trust are laid
to my account hereafter. Moreover, Satan entered
into me, desiring to slay me, and almost tore me
asunder, so that I vomited much, and loathed all
manner of meat. Nevertheless, I rowed on val-
iantly, being such as I am, vomiting continually,
till the heathens were moved with wonder, and for-
bore to beat me, giving me strong liquors in pity ;
wherefore I rowed all the more valiantly day and
night, trusting that by my unworthiness the cause
of the Catholic Church might be in some slight
wise assisted."
" And so it is," quoth Cyril. " Why do you not
sit down, man ? "
" Pardon me," quoth the monk, with a piteous
gesture ; " of sitting, as of all carnal pleasure,
cometh satiety at the last."
" And now," said Cyril, " what reward am I to
give you for your good service?"
" It is reward enough to know that I have done
good service. Nevertheless if the holy patriarch
be so inclined without reason, there is an ancient
Christian, my mother according to the flesh "
" Come to me to-morrow, and she shall be well
seen to. And mind look to it, if I make you
not a deacon of the city, when I promote Peter."
The monk kissed his superior's hand and with-
drew. Cyril turned to Arsenius, betrayed for
once into geniality by his delight, and smiting
his thigh:
"We have beaten the heathen for once, eh?"
And then, in the usual artificial tone of an eccle-
46 Hypatia
siastic : " And what would my father recommend
in furtherance of the advantage so mercifully
thrown into our hand ? "
Arsenius was silent.
"I," went on Cyril, "should be inclined to
announce the news this very night, in my
sermon."
Arsenius shook his head.
"Why not? why not? " asked Cyril, impatiently.
" Better to keep it secret till others tell it. Re-
served knowledge is always reserved strength ; and
if the man, as I hope he does not, intends evil to
the Church, let him commit himself before you use
your knowledge against him. True, you may have
a scruple of conscience as to the lawfulness of
allowing a sin which you might prevent. To me
it seems that the sin lies in the will rather than in
the deed, and that sometimes I only say some-
times it may be a means of saving the sinner to
allow his root of iniquity to bear fruit, and fill him
with his own devices."
" Dangerous doctrine, my father."
" Like all sound doctrine a savor of life or of
death, according as it is received. I have not said
it to the multitude, but to a discerning brother.
And even politically speaking let him commit
himself, if he be really plotting rebellion, and then
speak, and smite his Babel tower. "
" You think, then, that he does not know of
Heraclian's defeat already ?"
" If he does, he will keep it secret from the
people; and our chances of turning them sud-
denly will be nearly the same."
" Good. After all, the existence of the Catholic
Church in Alexandria depends on this struggle,
Jews against Christians 47
and it is well to be wary. Be it so. It is well for
me that I have you for an adviser."
And thus Cyril, usually the most impatient and
intractable of plotters, gave in, as wise men should,
to a wiser man than himself, and made up his
mind to keep the secret, and to command the
monk to keep it also.
Philammon, after a sleepless night, and a wel-
come visit to the public baths, which the Roman
tyranny, wiser in its generation than modern
liberty, provided so liberally for its victims, set
forth to the prefect's palace, and gave his mes-
sage; but Orestes, who had been of late aston-
ishing the Alexandrian public by an unwonted
display of alacrity, was already in the adjoining
Basilica. Thither the youth was conducted by
an apparitor, and led up the center of the enor-
mous hall, gorgeous with frescoes and colored
marbles, and surrounded by aisles and galleries,
in which the inferior magistrates were hearing
causes, and doing such justice as the complicated
technicalities of Roman law chose to mete out.
Through a crowd of anxious loungers the youth
passed to the apse of the upper end, in which the
prefect's throne stood empty, and then turned into
a side chamber, where he found himself alone with
the secretary, a portly Chaldee eunuch, with a
sleek pale face, small pig's eyes, and an enormous
turban. The man of pen and paper took the
letter, opened it with solemn deliberation, and
then, springing to his feet, darted out of the room
in most undignified haste, leaving Philammon to
wait and wonder. In half an hour he returned,
his little eyes growing big with some great idea.
"Youth! your star is in the ascendant; you
48 Hypatia
are the fortunate bearer of fortunate news ! His
excellency himself commands your presence."
And the two went out.
In another chamber, the door of which was
guarded by armed men, Orestes was walking up
and down in high excitement, looking somewhat
the worse for the events of the past night, and
making occasional appeals to a gold goblet which
stood on the table.
" Ha ! No other than my preserver himself!
Boy, I will make your fortune. Miriam says that
you wish to enter my service."
Philammon, not knowing what to say, thought the
best answer would be to bow as low as he could.
" Ah, ha ! Graceful, but not quite according to
etiquette. You will soon teach him, eh, Secretary ?
Now to business. Hand me the notes to sign and
seal. To the Prefect of the Stationaries "
" Here, your Excellency."
" To the Prefect of the Corn market how many
wheat-ships have you ordered to be unladen ? "
" Two, your Excellency."
" Well, that will be largess enough for the time
being. To the Defender of the Plebs the devil
break his neck ! "
" He may be trusted, most noble ; he is bitterly
jealous of Cyril's influence. And, moreover, he
owes my insignificance much money."
" Good ! Now the notes to the Jail-masters,
about the gladiators."
" Here, your Excellency."
"To Hypatia. No. I will honor my bride
elect with my own illustrious presence. As I live,
here is a morning's work for a man with a racking
headache!"
Jews against Christians 49
"Your excellency has the strength of seven.
May you live for ever ! "
And really, Orestes's power of getting through
business, when he chose, was surprising enough.
A cold head and a colder heart make many things
easy.
But Philammon's whole soul was fixed on those
words. " His bride elect ! " . . . Was it that
Miriam's hints of the day before had raised some
selfish vision, or was it pity and horror at such a
fate for her for his idol ? But he passed five
minutes in a dream, from which he was awakened
by the sound of another and still dearer name.
" And now, for Pelagia. We can but try."
"Your excellency might offend the Goth."
" Curse the Goth ! He shall have his choice of
all the beauties in Alexandria, and be count of
Pentapolis if he likes. But a spectacle I must
have; and no one but Pelagia can dance Venus
Anadyomenc."
Philammon's blood rushed to his heart, and then
back again to his brow, as he reeled with horror
and shame.
" The people will be mad with joy to see her on
the stage once more. Little they thought, the
brutes, how I was plotting for their amusement,
even when as drunk as Silenus."
" Your nobility only lives for the good of your
slaves."
" Here, boy ! So fair a lady requires a fair
messenger. You shall enter on my service at
once, and carry this letter to Pelagia. Why?
why do you not come and take it?"
"To Pelagia?" gasped the youth. "In the
theatre? Publicly? Venus Anadyomene?"
50 Hypatia
"Yes, fool! Were you, too, drunk last night
after all?"
" She is my sister ! "
"Well, and what of that? Not that I believe
you, you villain ! So ! " said Orestes, who compre-
hended the matter in an instant. " Apparitors 1 "
The door opened, and the guard appeared.
" Here is a good boy who is inclined to make a
fool of himself. Keep him out of harm's way for
a few days. But don't hurt him ; for, after all, he
saved my life yesterday, when you scoundrels ran
away."
And, without further ado, the hapless youth was
collared, and led down a vaulted passage into the
guard-room, amid the jeers of the guard, who
seemed only to owe him a grudge for his yester-
day's prowess, and showed great alacrity in fitting
him with a heavy set of irons ; which done, he was
thrust head foremost into a cell of the prison,
locked in, and left to his meditations.
CHAPTER XX
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER
"TUT, fairest Hypatia, conceive yourself struck
-D in the face by a great stone, several hun-
dred howling wretches leaping up at you like wild
beasts two minutes more, and you are torn limb
from limb. What would even you do in such a
case ? "
" Let them tear me limb from limb, and die as I
have lived."
" Ah, but when it came to fact, and death
was staring you in the face? "
" And why should man fear death ? "
" Ahem ! No, not death, of course ; but the act
of dying. That may be, surely, under such circum-
stances, to say the least, disagreeable. If our ideal,
Julian the Great, found a little dissimulation neces-
sary, and was even a better Christian than I have
ever pretended to be, till he found himself able to
throw off the mask, why should not I? Consider
me as a lower being than yourself one of the
herd, if you will ; but a penitent member thereof,
who comes to make the fullest possible reparation,
by doing any desperate deed on which you may
choose to put him, and prove myself as able and
willing, if once I have the power, as Julian himself."
Such was the conversation which passed between
Hypatia and Orestes half an hour after Philammon
had taken possession of his new abode.
5 2 Hypatia
Hypatia looked at the prefect with calm pene-
tration, not unmixed with scorn and fear.
H"And pray what has produced this sudden change
in your excellency's earnestness? For four months
your promises have been lying fallow." She did
not confess how glad she would have been at heart
to see them lying fallow still.
"Because this morning I have news; which
I tell to you the first as a compliment. We will
take care that all Alexandria knows it before sun-
down. Heraclian has conquered."
"Conquered?" cried Hypatia, springing from
her seat.
" Conquered, and utterly destroyed the emperor's
forces at Ostia. So says a messenger on whom I can
depend. And even if the news should prove false,
I can prevent the contrary report from spreading,
or what is the use of being prefect? You demur?
Do you not see that if we can keep the notion
alive but a week our cause is won ? "
"How so?"
" I have treated already with all the officers of
the city, and every one of them has acted like a
wise man, and given me a promise of help, condi-
tional of course on Heraclian's success, being as
tired as I am of that priest-ridden court at Byzan-
tium. Moreover, the stationaries are mine already.
So are the soldiery all the way up the Nile. Ah !
you have been fancying me idle for these four
months, but you forget that you yourself were
the prize of my toil. Could I be a sluggard with
that goal in sight?"
Hypatia shuddered, but was silent ; and Orestes
went on :
" I have unladen several of the wheat-ships for
She Stoops to Conquer 53
enormous largesses of bread : though those ras-
cally monks of Tabenne had nearly forestalled my
benevolence, and I was forced to bribe a deacon
or two, buy up the stock they had sent down, and
retail it again as my own. It is really most offi-
cious of them to persist in feeding gratuitously half
the poor of the city ! What possible business have
they with Alexandria? "
" The wish for popularity, I presume."
" Just so ; and then what hold can the government
have on a set of rogues whose stomachs are filled
without our help ? "
"Julian made the same complaint to the high
priest of Galatia, in that priceless letter of his."
"Ah, you will set that all right, you know, shortly.
Then again, I do not fear Cyril's power just now.
He has injured himself deeply, I am happy to say,
in the opinion of the wealthy and educated, by ex-
pelling the Jews. And as for his mob, exactly at
the right moment, the deities there are no
monks here, so I can attribute my blessings to the
right source have sent us such a boon as may
put them into as good a humor as we need."
"And what is that?" asked Hypatia.
"A white elephant."
"A white elephant?"
" Yes," he answered, mistaking or ignoring the
tone of her answer. " A real, live, white elephant ;
a thing which has not been seen in Alexandria for
a hundred years! It was passing through with
two tame tigers, as a present to the boy at Byzan-
tium, from some hundred-wived kinglet of the
Hyperborean Taprobane, or other no-man's-land in
the far East. I took the liberty of laying an em-
bargo on them, and, after a little argumentation
54 Hypatia
and a few hints of torture, elephant and tigers are
at our service."
" And of what service are they to be? "
"My dearest madam conceive. . . . How are
we to win the mob without a show? . . . When
were there more than two ways of gaining either
the whole or part of the Roman Empire by force
of arms or force of trumpery? Can even you in-
vent a third ? The former is unpleasantly exciting,
and hardly practicable just now. The latter re-
mains ; and, thanks to the white elephant, may be
triumphantly successful. I have to exhibit some-
thing every week. The people are getting tired of
that pantomime; and since the Jews were driven
out, the fellow has grown stupid and lazy, having
lost the more enthusiastic half of his spectators.
As for horse-racing, they are sick of it ... Now,
suppose we announce, for the earliest possible day
a spectacle such a spectacle as never was seen
before in this generation. You and I I as exhibi-
tor, you as representative for the time being only
of the Vestals of old sit side by side. . . . Some
worthy friend has his instructions, when the people
are beside themselves with rapture, to cry, ' Long
live Orestes Caesar ! ' . . . Another reminds them
of Heraclian's victory another couples your name
with mine . . . the people applaud . . . some Mark
Antony steps forward, salutes me as imperator,
Augustus what you will the cry is taken up
I refuse as meekly as Julius Caesar himself am
compelled, blushing, to accept the honor I rise,
make an oration about the future independence of the
southern continent union of Africa and Egypt
the empire no longer to be divided into Eastern and
Western, but Northern and Southern. Shouts of
She Stoops to Conquer 55
applause, at two drachmas per man, shake the skies.
Everybody believes that everybody else approves,
and follows the lead . . . And the thing is won."
" And pray," asked Hypatia, crushing down her
contempt and despair, " how is this to bear on the
worship of the gods? "
" Why . . . why ... if you thought that peo-
ple's minds were sufficiently prepared, you might
rise in your turn, and make an oration you can
conceive one. Set forth how these spectacles,
formerly the glory of the empire, had withered
under Galilaean superstition. . . . How the only
path toward the full enjoyment of eye and ear was
a frank return to those deities, from whose worship
they originally sprung, and connected with which
they could alone be enjoyed in their perfec-
tion. . . . But I need not teach you how to do
that which you have so often taught me : so now
to consider our spectacle, which, next to the lar-
gess, is the most important part of our plans. I
ought to have exhibited to them the monk who so
nearly killed me yesterday. That would indeed
have been a triumph of the laws over Christianity.
He and the wild beasts might have given the
people ten minutes' amusement. But wrath con-
quered prudence ; and the fellow has been cruci-
fied these two hours. Suppose, then, we had a
little exhibition of gladiators. They are forbidden
by law, certainly."
" Thank Heaven, they are ! "
" But do you not see that is the very reason
why we, to assert our own independence, should
employ them ? "
" No ! they are gone. Let them never reappear
to disgrace the earth."
56 Hypatia
"My dear lady, you must not in your present
character, say that in public ; lest Cyril should be
impertinent enough to remind you that Christian
emperors and bishops put them down."
Hypatia bit her lip, and was silent.
" Well, I do not wish to urge anything unpleas-
ant to you. ... If we could but contrive a few
martyrdoms but I really fear we must wait a
year or two longer, in the present state of public
opinion, before we can attempt that."
"Wait? wait for ever! Did not Julian and
he must be our model forbid the persecution
of the Galilaeans, considering them sufficiently
punished by their own atheism and self-tormenting
superstition ? "
"Another small error of that great man. He
should have recollected that for three hundred
years, nothing, not even the gladiators themselves,
had been found to put the mob in such good
humor as to see a few Christians, especially young
and handsome women, burned alive, or thrown to
the lions."
Hypatia bit her lip once more. " I can hear no
more of this, sir. You forget that you are speak-
ing to a woman."
" Most supreme wisdom," answered Orestes, in
his blandest tone, " you cannot suppose that I wish
to pain your ears. But allow me to observe, as a
general theorem, that if one wishes to effect any
purpose, it is necessary to use the means ; and on
the whole, those which have been tested by four
hundred years' experience will be the safest. I
speak as a plain practical statesman but surely
your philosophy will not dissent?"
Hypatia looked down in painful thought. What
She Stoops to Conquer 57
could she answer? Was it not too true? and had
not Orestes fact and experience on his side ?
" Well, if you must but I cannot have gladir
ators. Why not a one of those battles with wild
beasts? They are disgusting enough: but still
they are less inhuman than the others; and you
might surely take precautions to prevent the men
being hurt."
" Ah ! that would indeed be a scentless rose !
If there is neither danger nor bloodshed, the
charm is gone. But really wild beasts are too
expensive just now ; and if I kill down my present
menagerie, I can afford no more. Why not have
something which costs no money, like prisoners ? "
"What! do you rank human beings below
brutes?"
" Heaven forbid ! But they are practically less
expensive. Remember, that without money, we
are powerless ; we must husband our resources for
the cause of the gods."
Hypatia was silent.
" Now, there are fifty or sixty Libyan prisoners
just brought in from the desert. Why not let
them fight an equal number of soldiers? They
are rebels to the empire, taken in war."
"Ah, then," said Hypatia, catching at any
thread of self-justification, " their lives are forfeit
in any case."
" Of course. So the Christians could not com-
plain of us for that. Did not the most Christian
Emperor Constantine set some three hundred
German prisoners to butcher each other in the
amphitheatre of Treves ? "
"But they refused, and died like heroes, each
falling on his own sword."
58 Hypatia
"Ah those Germans are always unmanage-
able. My guards, now, are just as stiff-necked.
To tell you the truth, I have asked them already
to exhibit their prowess on these Libyans, and
what do you suppose they answered ? "
" They refused, I hope."
"They told me, in the most insolent tone, that
they were men, and not stage-players ; and hired to
fight, and not to butcher. I expected a Socratic
dialogue after such a display of dialectic, and
bowed myself out."
" They were right."
" Not a doubt of it, from a philosophic point
of view ; from a practical one they were great
pedants, and I an ill-used master. However, I
can find unfortunate and misunderstood heroes
enough in the prisons, who, for the chance of their
liberty, will acquit themselves valiantly enough;
and I know of a few old gladiators still lingering
about the wine shops, who will be proud enough
to give them a week's training. So that may pass.
Now for some lighter species of representation
to follow something more or less dramatic."
" You forget that you speak to one who trusts
to be, as soon as she has the power, the high-
priestess of Athene, and who in the meanwhile is
bound to obey her tutor Julian's commands to the
priests of his day, and imitate the Galilaeans as
much in their abhorrence for the theatre as she
hopes hereafter to do in their care for the widow
and the stranger."
" Far be it from me to impugn that great man's
wisdom. But allow me to remark, that to judge
by the present state of the empire, one has a right
to say that he failed."
She Stoops to Conquer 59
" The Sun-God whom he loved took him to
himself, too early, by a hero's death."
H " And the moment he was removed, the wave of
Christian barbarism rolled back again into its old'
channel."
" Ah ! had he but lived twenty years longer ! "
" The Sun-God, perhaps, was not so solicitous
as we are for the success of his high-priest's
project."
Hypatia reddened was Orestes, after all,
laughing in his sleeve at her and her hopes?
" Do not blaspheme ! " she said solemnly.
" Heaven forbid ! I only offer one possible ex-
planation of a plain fact. The other is, that as
Julian was not going quite the right way to work
to restore the worship of the Olympians, the Sun-
God found it expedient to withdraw him from his
post, and now sends in his place Hypatia the phil-
osopher, who will be wise enough to avoid Julian's
error, and not copy the Galilaeans too closely, by
imitating a severity of morals at which they are the
only true and natural adepts."
" So Julian's error was that of being too virtu-
ous? If it be so, let me copy him, and fail like
him. The fault will then not be mine, but
fate's."
" Not in being too virtuous himself, most stain-
less likeness of Athene, but in trying to make others
so. He forgot one half of Juvenal's great dictum
about ' Panem and Circenses/ as the absolute and
overruling necessities of rulers. He tried to give
the people the bread without the games. . . . And
what thanks he received for his enormous munifi-
cence, let himself and the good folks of Antioch
tell you just quoted his Misopogon "
60 Hypatia
" Ay the lament of a man too pure for his
age."
" Exactly so. He should rather have been con-
tent to keep his purity to himself, and have gone
to Antioch not merely as a philosophic high-
priest, with a beard of questionable cleanliness,
to offer sacrifices to a god in whom forgive me
nobody in Antioch had believed for many a
year. If he had made his entrance with ten
thousand gladiators, and our white elephant, built
a theatre of ivory and glass in Daphnae, and pro-
claimed games in honor of the Sun, or of any other
member of the Pantheon "
" He would have acted unworthily of a philo-
sopher."
" But instead of that one priest draggling up,
poor devil, through the wet grass to the deserted
altar with his solitary goose under his arm, he
would have had every goose in Antioch forgive
my stealing a pun from Aristophanes running
open-mouthed to worship any god, known or
unknown and to see the sights."
" Well," said Hypatia, yielding perforce to
Orestes's cutting arguments. " Let us then re-
store the ancient glories of the Greek drama. Let
us give them a trilogy of ^Eschylus or Sophocles."
" Too calm, my dear madam. The Eumenides
might do certainly, or Philoctetes, if we could but
put Philoctetes to real pain, and make the specta-
tors sure that he was yelling in good earnest."
" Disgusting ! "
" But necessary, like many disgusting things."
" Why not try the Prometheus? "
" A magnificent field for stage effect, certainly.
What with those ocean nymphs in their winged
She Stoops to Conquer 61
chariot, and Ocean on his griffin. . . . But I should
hardly think it safe to re-introduce Zeus and Her-
mes to the people under the somewhat ugly light
in which ./Eschylus exhibits them."
" I forgot that," said Hypatia. " The Orestean
trilogy will be best, after all."
"Best? perfect divine! Ah, that it were to
be my fate to go down to posterity as the happy
man who once more revived ^Eschylus's master-
pieces on a Grecian stage ! But is there not,
begging the pardon of the great tragedian, too
much reserve in the Agamemnon for our modern
taste? If we could have the bath scene repre-
sented on the stage, and an Agamemnon who
could be really killed though I would not insist
on that, because a good actor might make it a
reason for refusing the part but still the murder
ought to take place in public."
" Shocking ! an outrage on all the laws of the
drama. Does not even the Roman Horace lay
down as a rule the Nee pueros coram populo
Medea trucidet?"
" Fairest and wisest, I am as willing a pupil of
the dear old Epicurean as any man living even
to the furnishing of my chamber ; of which fact the
Empress of Africa may some day assure herself.
But we are not now discussing the art of poetry, but
the art of reigning ; and, after all, while Horace was
sitting in his easy-chair, giving his countrymen good
advice, a private man, who knew somewhat bet-
ter than he what the mass admired, was exhibiting
forty thousand gladiators at his mother's funeral."
" But the canon has its foundation in the eter-
nal laws of beauty. It has been accepted and
observed."
62 Hypatia
"Not by the people for whom it was written.
The learned Hypatia has surely not forgotten,
th^t within sixty years after the Ars Poeticajivas
written, Annaeus Seneca, or whosoever wrote that
very bad tragedy called the Medea, found it so
necessary that she should, in despite of Horace,
kill her children before the people, that he actually
made her do it ! "
Hypatia was still silent foiled at every point,
while Orestes ran on with provoking glibness.
"And consider, too, even if we dare alter ^Eschy-
lus a little, we could find no one to act him."
" Ah, true ! fallen, fallen days ! "
" And really, after all, omitting the questionable
compliment to me, as candidate for a certain dig-
nity, of having my namesake kill his mother, and
then be hunted over the stage by furies "
" But Apollo vindicates and purifies him at last.
What a noble occasion that last scene would give
for winning them back to their old reverence for
the god ! "
" True, but at present the majority of spectators
will believe more strongly in the horrors of matri-
cide and furies than in Apollo's power to dispense
therewith. So that I fear must be one of your
labors of the future."
" And it shall be," said Hypatia. But she did
not speak cheerfully.
" Do you not think, moreover," went on the
tempter, " that those old tragedies might give
somewhat too gloomy a notion of those deities
whom we wish to re-introduce I beg pardon, to
re-honor? The history of the house of Atreus
is hardly more cheerful, in spite of its beauty,
than one of Cyril's sermons on the day of judg-
She Stoops to Conquer 63
ment, and the Tartarus prepared for hapless rich
people ? "
" Well," said Hypatia, more and more listlessly ;
" it might be more prudent to show them first the
fairer and more graceful side of the old myths.
Certainly the great age of Athenian tragedy had
its playful reverse in the old comedy."
" And in certain Dionysiac sports and proces-
sions which shall be nameless, in order to awaken
a proper devotion for the gods in those who
might not be able to appreciate ^Eschylus and
Sophocles."
" You would not re-introduce them? "
" Pallas forbid ! but give as fair a substitute for
them as we can."
" And are we to degrade ourselves because the
masses are degraded?"
" Not in the least. For my own part, this whole
business, like the catering for the weekly panto-
mimes, is as great a bore to me as it could have
been to Julian himself. But, my dearest madam
' Panem and Circenses' they must be put into
good humor ; and there is but one way by ' the
lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eye, and the
pride of life,' as a certain Galilaean correctly defines
the time-honored Roman method."
" Put them into good humor ? I wish to lustrate
them afresh for the service of the gods. If we
must have comic representations, we can only
have them conjoined to tragedy, which, as Aris-
totle defines it, will purify their affections by pity
and terror."
Orestes smiled.
" I certainly can have no objection to so good a
purpose. But do you not think that the battle
64 Hypatia
between the gladiators and the Libyans will have
done that sufficiently beforehand? I can con-
ceive nothing more fit for that end, unless it; be
Nero's method of sending his guards among " the
spectators themselves, and throwing them down to
the wild beasts in the arena. How thoroughly
purified by pity and terror must every worthy
shopkeeper have been, when he sat uncertain
whether he might not follow his fat wife into the
claws of the nearest lion 1 "
" You are pleased to be witty, sir," said Hypatia,
hardly able to conceal her disgust.
" My dearest bride elect, I only meant the most
harmless of reductiones ad absurdum of an abstract
canon of Aristotle, with which I, who am a Pla-
tonist after my mistress's model, do not happen to
agree. But do, I beseech you, be ruled, not by
me, but by your own wisdom. You cannot bring
the people to appreciate your designs at the first
sight. You are too wise, too pure, too lofty, too
farsighted for them. And therefore you must get
power to compel them. Julian, after all, found
it necessary to compel if he had lived seven
years more he would have found it necessary to
persecute."
"The gods forbid that that such a necessity
should ever arise here."
" The only way to avoid it, believe me, is to allure
and to indulge. After all, it is for their good."
" True," sighed Hypatia. " Have your way, sir."
"Believe me, you shall have yours in turn. I
ask you to be ruled by me now, only that you may
be in a position to rule me and Africa hereafter."
" And such an Africa ! Well, if they are born
low and earthly, they must, I suppose, be treated
She Stoops to Conquer 65
as such; and the fault of such a necessity is
Nature's, and not ours. Yet it is most degrad-
ing ! But still, if the only method by which the
philosophic few can assume their rights, as the
divinely-appointed rulers of the world, is by in-
dulging those lower beings whom they govern for
their good why be it so. It is no worse neces-
sity than many another which the servant of the
gods must endure in days like these."
" Ah," said Orestes, refusing to hear the sigh, or
to see the bitterness of the lip which accompanied
the speech " now Hypatia is herself again ; and
sny counsellor, and giver of deep and celestial
reasons for all things at which poor I can only
snatch and guess by vulpine cunning. So now
for our lighter entertainment. What shall it be?"
" What you will, provided it be not, as most such
are, unfit for the eyes of modest women. I have
no skill in catering for folly."
" A pantomime, then ? We may make that as
grand and as significant as we will, and expend,
too, on it all our treasures in the way of gewgaws
and wild beasts."
" As you like."
" Just consider, too, what a scope for mythologic
learning a pantomime affords. Why not have a
triumph of some deity? Could I commit myself
more boldly to the service of the gods I Now
who shall it be?"
" Pallas unless, as I suppose, she Is too modest
and too sober for your Alexandrians?"
" Yes it does not seem to me that she would
be appreciated at all events for the present.
Why not try Aphrodite? Christians as well as
Pagans will thoroughly understand her; and I
66 Hypatia
know no one who would not degrade the virgin
goddess by representing her, except a certain
lady, who has already, I hope, consented to sit in
that very character, by the side of her too much
honored slave ; and one Pallas is enough at a time
in any theatre."
Hypatia shuddered. He took it all for granted,
then and claimed her conditional promise to the
uttermost. Was there no escape ? She longed to
spring up and rush away, into the streets, into the
desert anything to break the hideous net which
she had wound around herself. And yet was it
not the cause of the gods the one object of her
life ? And after all, if he the hateful was to be her
emperor, she at least was to be an empress ; and
do what she would and half in irony, and half in
the attempt to hurl herself perforce into that which
she knew that she must go through, and forget
misery in activity, she answered as cheerfully as
she could.
" Then, my goddess, thou must wait the pleas-
ure of these base ones! At least the young
Apollo will have charms even for them."
"Ah, but who will represent him? This puny
generation does not produce such figures as
Pylades and Bathyllus except among those
Goths. Besides, Apollo must have golden hair;
and our Greek race has intermixed itself so shame-
fully with these Egyptians, that our stage-troop
is as dark as Andromeda, and we should have to
apply again to those accursed Goths, who have
nearly" (with a bow) "all the beauty, and nearly
all the money and the power, and will, I suspect,
have the rest of it before I am safe out of this
wicked world, because they have not nearly, but
She Stoops to Conquer 67
quite, all the courage. Now shall we ask a
Goth to dance Apollo? for we can get no one
else."
Hypatia smiled in spite of herself at the notion.
" That would be too shameful ! I must forego the
god of light himself, if I am to see him in the per-
son of a clumsy barbarian."
" Then why not try my despised and rejected
Aphrodite? Suppose we had her triumph, finish-
ing with a dance of Venus Anadyomene. Surely
that is a graceful myth enough."
" As a myth ; but on the stage in reality?"
" Not worse than what this Christian city has
been looking at for many a year. We shall not
run any danger of corrupting morality, be sure."
Hypatia blushed.
" Then you must not ask for my help."
" Or for your presence at the spectacle ? For
that be sure is a necessary point. You are too
great a person, my dearest madam, in the eyes
of these good folks to be allowed to absent your-
self on such an occasion. If my little stratagem
succeeds, it will be half owing to the fact of the
people knowing that in crowning me, they crown
Hypatia. . . . Come now do you not see that
as you must needs be present at their harmless
scrap of mythology, taken from the authentic and
undoubted histories of those very gods whose
worship we intend to restore, you will consult your
own comfort most in agreeing to it cheerfully, and
in lending me your wisdom towards arranging it?
Just conceive now, a triumph of Aphrodite, enter-
ing preceded by wild beasts led in chains by
Cupids, the white elephant and all what a field
for the plastic art ! You might have a thousand
Vol. 7-4
68 Hypatia
groupings, dispersions, regroupings, in as perfect
bas-relief style as those of any Sophoclean drama.
Allow me only to take this paper and pen "
And he began sketching rapidly group after
group.
" Not so ugly, surely?"
" They are very beautiful, I cannot deny," said
poor Hypatia.
" Ah, sweetest Empress ! you forget sometimes
that I, too, world-worm as I am, am a Greek, with
as intense a love of the beautiful as even you your-
self have. Do not fancy that every violation of
correct taste does not torture me as keenly as it
does you. Some day, I hope, you will have
learned to pity and to excuse the wretched com-
promise between that which ought to be and that
which can be, in which we hapless statesmen must
struggle on, half-stunted, and wholly misunder-
stood ah, well ! Look, now, at these fauns and
dryads among the shrubs upon the stage, pausing
in startled wonder at the first blast of music which
proclaims the exit of the goddess from her temple."
"The temple? Why, where are you going to
exhibit?"
" In the Theatre, of course. Where else panto-
mimes ? "
" But will the spectators have time to move all
the way from the Amphitheatre after that
those? "
"The Amphitheatre? We shall exhibit the
Libyans, too, in the Theatre."
" Combats in the Theatre sacred to Dionusos? "
" My dear lady " penitently "I know it is
an offence against all the laws of the drama."
41 Oh, worse than that ! Consider what an im-
She Stoops to Conquer 69
piety toward the god, to desecrate his altar with
bloodshed?"
" Fairest devotee, recollect that, after all, I may
fairly borrow Dionusos's altar in this my extreme
need ; for I saved its very existence for him, by
preventing the magistrates from filling up the
whole orchestra with benches for the patricians,
after the barbarous Roman fashion. And besides,
what possible sort of representation, or misrepre-
sentation, has not been exhibited in every theatre
of the empire for the last four hundred years?
Have we not had tumblers, conjurers, allegories,
martyrdoms, marriages, elephants on the tight-
rope, learned horses, and learned asses too, if we
may trust Apuleius of Madaura; with a good
many other spectacles of which we must not speak
in the presence of a vestal? It is an age of
execrable taste, and we must act accordingly."
" Ah ! " answered Hypatia ; " the first step in the
downward career of the drama began when the suc-
cessors of Alexander dared to profane theatres
which had re-echoed the choruses of Sophocles
and Euripides by degrading the altar of Dionusos
into a stage for pantomimes ! "
" Which your pure mind must, doubtless, con-
sider not so very much better than a little fighting.
But, after all, the Ptolemies could not do otherwise.
You can only have Sophoclean dramas in a Sopho-
clean age ; and theirs was no more of one than ours
is, and so the drama died a natural death ; and when
that happens to man or thing, you may weep over
it if you will, but you must, after all, bury it, and
get something else in its place except, of course,
the worship of the gods."
" I am glad that you except that, at least," said
^o Hypatia
Hypatia, somewhat bitterly. "But why not use
the Amphitheatre for both spectacles?"
" What can I do ? I am over head and ears in
debt already ; and the Amphitheatre is half in ruins,
thanks to that fanatic edict of the late emperor's
against gladiators. There is no time or money for
repairing it ; and besides, how pitiful a poor hun-
dred of combatants will look in an arena built to hold
two thousand ! Consider, my dearest lady, in what
fallen times we live ! "
" I do, indeed ! " said Hypatia. " But I will not
see the altar polluted by blood. It is the dese-
cration which it has undergone already which has
provoked the god to withdraw the poetic inspira-
tion."
" I do not doubt the fact. Some curse from
heaven, certainly, has fallen on our poets, to judge
by their exceeding badness. Indeed, I am in-
clined to attribute the insane vagaries of the water-
drinking monks and nuns, like those of the Argive
women, to the same celestial anger. But I will see
that the sanctity of the altar is preserved, by con-
fining the combat to the stage. And as for the
pantomime which will follow, if you would only
fall in with my fancy of the triumph of Aphrodite,
Dionusos would hardly refuse his altar for the
glorification of his own lady-love."
" Ah that myth is a late, and in my opinion a
degraded one."
"Be it so: but recollect, that another myth
makes her, and not without reason, the mother of
all living beings. Be sure that Dionusos will have
no objection, or any other god either, to allow her
to make her children feel her conquering might ;
for they all know well enough, that if we can once
She Stoops to Conquer 71
get her well worshipped here, all Olympus will
follow in her train."
"That was spoken of the celestial Aphrodite,
whose symbol is the tortoise, the emblem of
domestic modesty and chastity : not of that baser
Pandemic one."
" Then we will take care to make the people
aware of whom they are admiring by exhibiting in
the triumph whole legions of tortoises: and you
yourself shall write the chant, while I will see that
the chorus is worthy of what it has to sing. No.
mere squeaking double flute and a pair of boys :
but a whole army of cyclops and graces, with such
trebles and such bass-voices ! It shall make Cyril's
ears tingle in his palace ! "
"The chant! A noble office for me, truly!
That is the very part of the absurd spectacle to
which you used to say the people never dreamed
of attending. All which is worth settling you
seem to have settled for yourself before you
deigned to consult me."
" I said so ? Surely you must mistake. But if
any hired poetaster's chant do pass unheeded,
what has that to do with Hypatia's eloquence and
science, glowing with the treble inspiration of
Athene, Phoebus, and Dionusos? And as for
having arranged beforehand my adorable mis-
tress, what more delicate compliment could I have
paid you ? "
" I cannot say that it seems to me to be one."
" How? After saving you every trouble which
I could, and racking my overburdened wits for
stage-effects and properties, have I not brought
hither the darling children of my own brain, and
laid them down ruthlessly, for life or death, be-
72 Hypatia
fore the judgment-seat of your lofty and unsparing
criticism ? "
Hypatia felt herself tricked: but there was no
escape now.
" And who, pray, is to disgrace herself, and me,
as Venus Anadyomene ? "
" Ah ! that is the most exquisite article in all
my bill of fare ! What if the kind gods have
enabled me to exact a promise from whom,
think you?"
"What care I? How can I tell?" asked
Hypatia, who suspected and dreaded that she
could tell.
" Pelagia herself! "
Hypatia rose angrily.
" This, sir, at least, is too much ! It was not
enough for you, it seems, to claim, or rather to
take for granted, so imperiously, so mercilessly, a
conditional promise weakly, weakly made, in
the vain hope that you would help forward aspi-
rations of mine which you have let lie fallow for
months in which I do not believe that you sym-
pathize now! It was not enough for you to
declare yourself publicly yesterday a Christian,
and to come hither this morning to flatter me
into the belief that you will dare, ten days hence,
to restore the worship of the gods whom you have
abjured ! It was not enough to plan without me
all those movements in which you told me I was
to be your fellow-counsellor the very condition
which you yourself offered ! It was not enough
for you to command me to sit in that theatre, as
your bait, your puppet, your victim, blushing and
shuddering at sights unfit for the eyes of gods and
men: but, over and above all this, I must assist
She Stoops to Conquer 73
in the renewed triumph of a woman who has
laughed down my teaching, seduced away my
scholars, braved me in my very lecture-room
who for four years has done more than even Cyril
himself to destroy all the virtue and truth which I
have toiled to sow and toiled in vain ! Oh, be-
loved gods ! where will end the tortures through
which your martyr must witness for you to a fallen
race?"
And, in spite of all her pride, and of Orestes's
presence, her eyes filled with scalding tears.
Orestes's eyes had sunk before the vehemence
of her just passion : but as she added the last sen-
tence in a softer and sadder tone, he raised them
again, with a look of sorrow and entreaty, as his
heart whispered:
" Fool ! fanatic ! But she is too beautiful !
Win her I must and will ! "
" Ah ! dearest, noblest Hypatia ! What have I
done ? Unthinking fool that I was ! In the wish
to save you trouble In the hope that I could
show you, by the aptness of my own plans, that
my practical statesmanship was not altogether an
unworthy helpmate for your loftier wisdom
wretch that I am, I have offended you; and I
have ruined the cause of those very gods for
whom, I swear, I am as ready to sacrifice myself
as ever you can be ! "
The last sentence had the effect which it was
meant to have.
" Ruined the cause of the gods ? " asked she, in
a startled tone.
"Is it not ruined, without your help? And
what am I to understand from your words but
that hapless man that I am! you leave me
74 Hypatia
and them henceforth to our own unassisted
strength?"
" The unassisted strength of the gods is omnip-
otence."
" Be it so. But why is Cyril, and not Hy-
patia, master of the masses of Alexandria this
day? Why but because he and his have fought,
and suffered, and died too, many a hundred of
them, for their god, omnipotent as they believe
him to be ? Why are the old gods forgotten, my
fairest logician? for forgotten they are."
Hypatia trembled from head to foot, and
Orestes went on more blandly than ever.
" I will not ask an answer to that question of
mine. All I entreat is forgiveness for what for
I know not : but I have sinned, and that is enough
for me. What if I have been too confident too
hasty? Are you not the prize for which I strain?
And will not the preciousness of the victor's wreath
excuse some impatience in his struggle for it?
Hypatia has forgotten who and what the gods
have made her she has not even consulted her
own mirror, when she blames one of her innum-
erable adorers for a forwardness which ought to
be rather imputed to him as a virtue."
And Orestes stole meekly such a glance of
adoration, that Hypatia blushed, and turned her
face away. . . . After all, she was woman. . . .
And she was a fanatic. . . . And she was to be an
empress. . . . And Orestes's voice was as melodi-
ous, and his manner as graceful, as ever charmed
the heart of woman.
"But Pelagia?" she said, at last, recovering
herself.
"Would that I had never seen the creature!
She Stoops to Conquer 75
But, after all, I really fancied that in doing what
I have done I should gratify you."
"Me?"
" Surely if revenge be sweet, as they say, it
could hardly find a more delicate satisfaction than
in the degradation of one who "
" Revenge, sir? Do you dream that I am cap-
able of so base a passion ? "
" I ? Pallas forbid ! " said Orestes, finding him-
self on the wrong path again. " But recollect that
the allowing this spectacle to take place might rid
you for ever of an unpleasant I will not say rival."
"How, then?"
" Will not her re-appearance on the stage, after
all her proud professions of contempt for it, do
something towards reducing her in the eyes of this
scandalous little town to her true and native level ?
She will hardly dare thenceforth to go about parad-
ing herself as the consort of a god-descended
hero, or thrusting herself unbidden into Hypatia's
presence, as if she were the daughter of a consul."
" But I cannot I cannot allow it even to her.
After all, Orestes, she is a woman. And can I,
philosopher as I am, help to degrade her even one
step lower than she lies already ? "
Hypatia had all but said " a woman even as I
am : " but Neo-Platonic philosophy taught her bet-
ter ; and she checked the hasty assertion of any-
thing like a common sex or common humanity
between two beings so antipodal.
" Ah," rejoined Orestes, " that unlucky word
degrade ! Unthinking that I was, to use it, for-
getting that she herself will be no more degraded
in her own eyes, or any one's else, by hearing
again the plaudits of those 'dear Macedonians/
j6 Hypatia
on whose breath she has lived for years, than a
peacock when he displays his train. Unbounded
vanity and self-conceit are not unpleasant passions,
after all, for their victim. After all, she is what she
is, and her being so is no fault of yours. Oh, it
must be ! indeed it must ! "
Poor Hypatia ! The bait was too delicate, the
tempter too wily; and yet she was ashamed to
speak aloud the philosophic dogma which flashed
a ray of comfort and resignation through her
mind, and reminded her that after all there was no
harm in allowing lower natures to develop them-
selves freely in that direction which Nature had
appointed for them, and in which only they could
fulfil the laws of their being, as necessary varieties
in the manifold whole of the universe. So she
cut the interview short with :
" If it must be, then ... I will now retire, and
write the ode. Only, I refuse to have any com-
munication whatsoever with I am ashamed of
even mentioning her name. I will send the ode
to you, and she must adapt her dance to it as best
she can. By her taste, or fancy rather, I will not
be ruled."
"And I," said Orestes, with a profusion of
thanks, " will retire to rack my faculties over the
'dispositions.' On this day week we exhibit
and conquer! Farewell, queen of wisdom ! Your
philosophy never shows to better advantage than
when you thus wisely and gracefully subordinate
that which is beautiful in itself to that which is
beautiful relatively and practically."
He departed; and Hypatia, half dreading her
own thoughts, sat down at once to labor at the ode.
Certainly it was a magnificent subject What ety*
She Stoops to Conquer 77
mologies, cosmogonies, allegories, myths, symbo-
lisms between all heaven and earth, might she not
introduce if she could but banish that figure of
Pelagia dancing to it all, which would not be ban-
ished, but hovered, like a spectre, in the back-
ground of all her imaginations. She became
quite angry, first with Pelagia, then with herself,
for being weak enough to think of her. Was it
not positive defilement of her mind to be haunted
by the image of so defiled a being? She would
purify her thoughts by prayer and meditation.
But to whom of all the gods should she address
herself? To her chosen favorite, Athene? She
who had promised to be present at that spectacle ?
Oh, how weak she had been to yield ! And yet
she had been snared into it. Snared there was
no doubt of it by the very man whom she had
fancied that she could guide and mould to her own
purposes. He had guided and moulded her now
against her self-respect, her compassion, her in-
nate sense of right. Already she was his tool.
True, she had submitted to be so for a great
purpose. But suppose she had to submit again
hereafter always henceforth? And what made
the thought more poignant was, her knowledge
that he was right ; that he knew what to do, and
how to do it. She could not help admiring him
for his address, his quickness, his clear practical
insight: and yet she despised, mistrusted, all but
hated him. But what if his were the very quali-
ties which were destined to succeed? What if
her purer and loftier aims, her resolutions now,
alas ! broken never to act but on the deepest
and holiest principles and by the most sacred
means, were destined never to exert themselves
78 Hypatia
in practice, except conjointly with miserable strat-
agems and cajoleries such as these ? What if state-
crafts and not philosophy and religion, were the
appointed rulers of mankind ? Hideous thought !
And yet she who had all her life tried to be
self-dependent, originative, to face and crush the
hostile mob of circumstance and custom, and do
battle single-handed with Christianity and a fallen
age how was it that in her first important and
critical opportunity of action she had been dumb,
irresolute, passive, the victim, at last, of the very
corruption which she was to exterminate? She
did not know yet that those who have no other
means for regenerating a corrupted time than dog-
matic pedantries concerning the dead and unre-
turning past, must end, in practice, by borrowing
insincerely, and using clumsily, the very weapons
of that novel age which they deprecate, and " sew-
ing new cloth into old garments," till the rent
become patent and incurable. But in the mean-
while, such meditations as these drove from her
mind for that day both Athene, and the ode,
and philosophy, and all things but Pelagia the
wanton.
In the meanwhile, Alexandrian politics flowed
onward in their usual pure and quiet course. The
public buildings were placarded with the news of
Heraclian's victory; and groups of loungers ex-
pressed, loudly enough, their utter indifference as
to who might rule at Rome or even at Byzantium.
Let Heraclian or Honorius be emperor, the capi-
tals must be fed; and while the Alexandrian
wheat-trade was uninjured, what matter who re-
ceived the tribute? Certainly, as some friends of
Orestes found means to suggest, it might not be a
She Stoops to Conquer 79
bad thing for Egypt, if she could keep the tribute
in her own treasury, instead of sending it to Rome
without any adequate return, save the presence
of an expensive army. . . . Alexandria had been
once the metropolis of an independent empire. . . .
Why not again ? Then came enormous largesses
of corn, proving, more satisfactorily to the mob
than to the shipowners, that Egyptian wheat was
better employed at home than abroad. Nay, there
were even rumors of a general amnesty for all
prisoners ; and as, of course, every evil-doer had
a kind of friend, who considered him an injured
martyr, all parties were well content, on their own
accounts at least, with such a move.
And so Orestes's bubble swelled, and grew, and
glittered every day with fresh prismatic radiance ;
while Hypatia sat at home, with a heavy heart,
writing her ode to Venus Urania, and submitting
to Orestes's daily visits.
One cloud, indeed, not without squalls of wind
and rain, disfigured that sky which the prefect had
invested with such serenity by the simple expe-
dient, well known to politicians, of painting it
bright blue, since it would not assume that color
of its own accord. For a day or two after Ammo-
nius's execution, the prefect's guards informed
him that the corpse of the crucified man, with
the cross on which it hung, had vanished. The
Nitrian monks had come down in a body, and
carried them off before the very eyes of the sen-
tinels. Orestes knew well enough that the fellows
must have been bribed to allow the theft ; but he
dare not say so to men on whose good humor
his very life might depend : so, stomaching the
affront as best he could, he vowed fresh vengeance
80 Hypatia
against Cyril, and went on his way. But, behold )
within four-and-twenty hours of the theft, a
procession of all the rascality, followed by all the
piety, of Alexandria, monks from Nitria counted
by the thousand, priests, deacons, archdeacons,
Cyril himself, in full pontificals, and, borne aloft
in the midst, upon a splendid bier, the missing
corpse, its nail-pierced hands and feet left un-
covered for the pitying gaze of the Church.
Under the very palace windows, from which
Orestes found it expedient to retire for the time
being, out upon the quays, and up the steps of
the Csesareum, defiled that new portent; and in
another half-hour, a servant entered, breathlessly,
to inform the shepherd of people, that his victim
was lying in state in the center of the nave, a
martyr duly canonized, Ammonius now no more,
but henceforth Thaumasius the wonderful, on
whose heroic virtues and more heroic faithful-
ness unto the death, Cyril was already descanting
from the pulpit, amid thunders of applause at
every allusion to Sisera at the brook Kishon,
Sennacherib in the house of Nisroch, and the rest
of the princes of this world who come to nought.
Here was a storm ! To order a cohort to enter
the church and bring away the body, was easy
enough : to make them do it, in the face of certain
death, not so easy. Besides, it was too early yet
for so desperate a move as would be involved in
the violation of a church. ... So Orestes added
this fresh item to the long column of accounts
which he intended to settle with the patriarch;
cursed for half an hour in the name of all divini-
ties, saints, and martyrs, Christian and pagan ; and
wrote off a lamentable history of his wrongs and
She Stoops to Conquer 81
sufferings to the very Byzantine court against
which he was about to rebel, in the comfortable
assurance that Cyril had sent, by the same post,
a counterstatement, contradicting it in every par-
ticular. . . . Never mind. ... In case he failed
in rebelling, it was as well to be able to prove his
allegiance up to the latest possible date ; and the
more completely the two statements contradicted
each other, the longer it would take to sift the
truth out of them ; and thus so much time was
gained, and so much the more chance, meantime,
of a new leaf being turned over in that Sibylline
oracle of politicians the Chapter of Accidents.
And for the time being, he would make a pathetic
appeal to respectability and moderation in gen-
eral, of which Alexandria, wherein some hundred
thousand tradesmen and merchants had property
to lose, possessed a goodly share.
Respectability responded promptly to the ap-
peal ; and loyal addresses and deputations of con-
dolence flowed in from every quarter, expressing
the extreme sorrow with which the citizens had
beheld the late disturbances of civil order, and the
contempt which had been so unfortunately evinced
for the constituted authorities : but taking, never-
theless, the liberty to remark, that while the ex-
treme danger to property which might ensue from
the further exasperation of certain classes, pre-.
vented their taking those active steps on the side
of tranquillity to which their feelings inclined them,
the known piety and wisdom of their esteemed
patriarch made it presumptuous in them to offer
any opinion on his present conduct, beyond the
expression of their firm belief that he had been
unfortunately misinformed as to those sentiment;
82 Hypatia
of affection and respect which his excellency the
prefect was well known to entertain towards him.
They ventured, therefore, to express a humble
hope that, by some mutual compromise, to define
which would be an unwarrantable intrusion on
their part, a happy reconciliation would be ef-
fected, and the stability of law, property, and the
Catholic Faith, insured. . . . All which Orestes
heard with blandest smiles, while his heart was
black with curses ; and Cyril answered by a very
violent though a very true and practical harangue
on the text, "How hardly shall they that have
riches enter into the kingdom of heaven."
So respectability and moderation met with its
usual hapless fate, and, soundly cursed by both
parties, in the vain attempt to please both, wisely
left the upper powers to settle their own affairs,
and went home to their desks and counters, and
did a very brisk business all that week on the
strength of the approaching festival. One hapless
innkeeper only tried to carry out in practice the
principles which the deputation from his guild had
so eloquently advocated; and being convicted of
giving away bread in the morning to the Nitrian
monks, and wine in the evening to the prefect's
guards, had his tavern gutted, and his head broken
by a joint plebiscitum of both the parties whom
he had conciliated, who afterwards fought a little
together, and then, luckily for the general peace,
mutually ran away from each other.
Cyril in the meanwhile, though he was doing a
foolish thing, was doing it wisely enough. Orestes
might curse, and respectability might deplore,
those nightly sermons, which shook the mighty
arcades of the Caesareum, but they could not an-
She Stoops to Conquer 83
swer them. Cyril was right and knew that he
was right. Orestes was a scoundrel, hateful to
God, and to the enemies of God. The middle
classes were lukewarm covetous cowards; the
whole system of government was a swindle and
an injustice ; all men's hearts were mad with cry-
ing, "Lord, how long?" The fierce bishop had
only to thunder forth text on text, from every
book of scripture, old and new, in order to array on
his side not merely the common sense and right
feeling, but the bigotry and ferocity of the masses.
In vain did the good Arsenius represent to him
not only the scandal but the unrighteousness of
his new canonization. " I must have fuel, my good
father," was his answer, " wherewith to keep alight
the flame of zeal. If I am to be silent as to Hera-
clian's defeat, I must give them some other irri-
tant, which will put them in a proper temper to
act on that defeat, when they are told of it. If
they hate Orestes, does he not deserve it? Even
if he is not altogether as much in the wrong in
this particular case as they fancy he is, are there
not a thousand other crimes of his which deserve
their abhorrence even more? At all events, he
must proclaim the empire, as you yourself say, or
we shall have no handle against him. He will
not dare to proclaim it if he knows that we are
aware of the truth. And if we are to keep the
truth in reserve, we must have something else to
serve meanwhile as a substitute for it."
And poor Arsenius submitted with a sigh, as
he saw Cyril making a fresh step in that alluring
path of evil-doing that good might come, which
led him in after-years into many a fearful sin, and
left his name disgraced, perhaps for ever, in the
84 Hypatia
judgment of generations, who know as little of
the pandemonium against which he fought, as they
do of the intense belief which sustained him in
his warfare; and who have therefore neither un-
derstanding nor pardon for the occasional outrages
and errors of a man no worse, even if no better,
than themselves.
CHAPTER XXI
THE SQUIRE-BISHOP
IN a small and ill-furnished upper room of a forti-
fied country-house, sat Synesius, the bishop
of Cyrene.
A goblet of wine stood beside him, on the table,
but it was untasted. Slowly and sadly, by the light
of a tiny lamp, he went on writing a verse or two,
and then burying his face in his hand, while hot
tears dropped between his fingers on the paper;
till a servant, entering, announced Raphael Aben-
Ezra.
Synesius rose, with a gesture of surprise, and
hurried towards the door. " No, ask him to come
hither to me. To pass through those deserted
rooms at night is more than I can bear." And
he awaited for his guest at the chamber door, and
as he entered, caught both his hands in his, and
tried to speak; but his voice was choked within
him.
"Do not speak," said Raphael, gently, leading
him to his chair again. " I know all."
" You know all ? And are you, then, so unlike
the rest of the world, that you alone have come to
visit the bereaved and the deserted in his misery?"
" I am like the rest of the world, after all ; for I
came to you on my own selfish errand, to seek
comfort. Would that I could give it instead 1 But
the servants told me all, below."
86 Hypatia
" And yet you persisted in seeing me, as if I could
help you ? Alas ! I can help no one now. Here
I am at last, utterly alone, utterly helpless. As I
came from my mother's womb, so shall I return
again. My last child my last and fairest gone
after the rest ! Thank God, that I have had
even a day's peace wherein to lay him by his
mother and his brothers ; though He alone knows
how long the beloved graves may remain unrifled.
Let it have been shame enough to sit here in my
lonely tower and watch the ashes of my Spartan
ancestors, the sons of Hercules himself, my glory
and my pride, sinful fool that I was ! cast to the
winds by barbarian plunderers. . . . When wilt
thou make an end, O Lord, and slay me ? "
"And how did the poor boy die?" asked
Raphael, in hope of soothing sorrow by enticing it
to vent itself in words.
"The pestilence. What other fate can we
expect, who breathe an air tainted with corpses,
and sit under a sky darkened with carrion birds?
But I could endure even that, if I could work, if
I could help. But to sit here, imprisoned now for
months between these hateful towers ; night after
night to watch the sky, red with burning home-
steads; day after day to have my ears ring with
the shrieks of the dying and the captives for
they have begun now to murder every male, down
to the baby at the breast and to feel myself
utterly fettered, impotent, sitting here like some
palsied idiot, waiting for my end ! I long to rush
out, and fall fighting, sword in hand : but I am
their last, their only hope. The governors care
nothing for our supplications. In vain have I
memorialized Gennadius and Innocent, with what
The Squire-Bishop 87
little eloquence my misery has not stunned in me.
But there is no resolution, no unanimity left in the
land. The soldiery are scattered in small garri-
sons, employed entirely in protecting the private
property of their officers. The Ausurians defeat
them piecemeal, and, armed with their spoils, act-
ually have begun to beleaguer fortified towns ; and
now there is nothing left for us, but to pray that,
like Ulysses, we may be devoured the last. What
am I doing? I am selfishly pouring out my own
sorrows, instead of listening to yours."
" Nay, friend, you are talking of the sorrows of
your country, not of your own. As for me I have
no sorrow only a despair: which, being irre-
mediable, may well wait. But you oh, you must
not stay here. Why not escape to Alexandria?"
" I will die at my post as I have lived, the father
of my people. When the last ruin comes, and
Cyrene itself is besieged, I shall return thither
from my present outpost, and the conquerors shall
find the bishop in his place before the altar.
There I have offered for years the unbloody sacri-
fice to Him, who will perhaps require of me a
bloody one, that so the sight of an altar polluted
by the murder of His priest, may end the sum
of Pentapolitan woe, and aro se Him to avenge
His slaughtered sheep ! There, we will talk no
more of it. This at least I have left in my power,
to make you welcome. And after supper you
shall tell me what brings you hither."
And the good bishop, calling his servant, set to
work to show his guest such hospitality as the in-
vaders had left in his power.
Raphael's usual insight had not deserted him
when, in his utter perplexity, he went, almost in-
88 Hypatia
stinctively, straight to Synesius. The bishop of
Cyrene, to judge from the charming private letters
which he has left, was one of those many-sided,
volatile, restless men, who taste joy and sorrow, if
not deeply or permanently, yet abundantly and pas-
sionately. He lived, as Raphael had told Orestes,
in a whirlwind of good deeds, meddling and toiling
for the mere pleasure of action ; and as soon as
there was nothing to be done, which, till lately,
had happened seldom enough with him, paid the
penalty for past excitement in fits of melancholy.
A man of magniloquent and flowery style, not
without a vein of self-conceit ; yet withal of over-
flowing kindliness, racy humor, and unflinching
courage, both physical and moral; with a very
clear practical faculty, and a very muddy specula-
tive one though, of course, like the rest of the
world, he was especially proud of his own weakest
side, and professed the most passionate affection
for philosophic meditation; while his detractors
hinted, not without a show of reason, that he was
far more of an adept in soldiering and dog-
breaking than in the mysteries of the unseen
world.
To him Raphael betook himself, he hardly knew
why ; certainly not for philosophic consolation ; per-
haps because Synesius was, as Raphael used to say,
the only Christian from whom he had ever heard a
hearty laugh ; perhaps because he had some way-
ward hope, unconfessed even to himself, that he
might meet at Synesius's house the very compan-
ions from whom he had just fled. He was flutter-
ing round Victoria's new and strange brilliance
like a moth round the candle, as he confessed,
after supper, to his host; and now he was come
The Squire-Bishop 89
hither, on the chance of being able to singe his
wings once more.
Not that his confession was extracted without
much trouble to the good old man, who, seeing at
once that Raphael had some weight upon his
mind, which he longed to tell, and yet was either
too suspicious or too proud to tell, set himself to
ferret out the secret, and forgot all his sorrows for
the time, as soon as he found a human being to
whom he might do good. But Raphael was inex-
plicably wayward and unlike himself. All his
smooth and shallow persiflage, even his shrewd
satiric humor had vanished. He seemed parched
by some inward fever; restless, moody, abrupt,
even peevish; and Synesius's curiosity rose with
his disappointment, as Raphael went on obsti-
nately declining to consult the very physician be-
fore whom he had presented himself as patient.
"And what can you do for me, if I did tell
you ? "
"Then allow me, my very dear friend, to ask
this. As you deny having visited me on my own
account, on what account did you visit me? "
"Can you ask? To enjoy the society of the
most finished gentleman of Pentapolis."
" And was that worth a week's journey in per-
petual danger of death ? "
" As for danger of death, that weighs little with
a man who is careless of life. And as for the
week's journey, I had a dream one night, on my
way, which made me question whether I were wise
in troubling a Christian bishop with any thoughts
or questions which relate merely to poor human
beings like myself, who marry and are given in
marriage."
90 Hypatia
"You forget, friend, that you are speaking to
one who has married, and loved and lost."
" I did not. But you see how rude I am grow-
ing. I am no fit company for you, or any man.
I believe I shall end by turning robber-chief, and
heading a party of Ausurians."
"But," said the patient Synesius, "you have
forgotten your dream all this while."
" Forgotten ! I did npt promise to tell it you
did I?"
" No, but as it seems to have contained some
sort of accusation against my capacity, do you not
think it but fair to tell the accused what it was?"
Raphael smiled.
"Well then. . . . Suppose I had dreamt this.
That a philosopher, an academic, and a believer
in nothing and in no man, had met at Berenice
certain rabbis of the Jews, and heard them read-
ing and expounding a certain book of Solomon
the Song of Songs. You, as a learned man, know
into what sort of trumpery allegory they would
contrive to twist it; how the bride's eyes were to
mean the scribes who were full of wisdom, as the
pools of Heshbon were of water ; and her stature
spreading like a palm-tree, the priests who spread
out their hands when blessing the people; and
the left hand which should be under her head, the
Tephilim which these old pedants wore on their
left wrists ; and the right hand which should hold
her, the Mezuzah which they fixed on the right
side of their doors to keep off devils ; and so forth."
" I have heard such silly cabalisms, certainly."
"You have? Then suppose that I went on, and
saw in my dream how this same academic and
unbeliever, being himself also a Hebrew of the
The Squire-Bishop 91
Hebrews, snatched the roll out of the rabbi's hand,
and told them that they were a party of fools for
trying to set forth what the book might possibly
mean, before they had found out what it really did
mean ; and that they could only find out that by
looking honestly at the plain words to see what
Solomon meant by it. And then, suppose that
this same apostate Jew, this member of the syna-
gogue of Satan, in his carnal and lawless imagina-
tions, had waxed eloquent with the eloquence of
devils, and told them, that the book set forth, to
those who had eyes to see, how Solomon the
great king, with his threescore queens, and four-
score concubines, and virgins without number,
forgets all his seraglio and his luxury in pure and
noble love for the undefiled, who is but one ; and
how as his eyes are opened to see that God made
the one man for the one woman, and the one woman
to the one man, even as it was in the garden of
Eden, so all his heart and thoughts become pure,
and gentle, and simple ; how the song of the birds,
and the scent of the grapes, and the spicy southern
gales, and all the simple country pleasures of the
glens of Lebanon, which he shares with his own
vine-dressers and slaves, become more precious in
his eyes than all his palaces and artificial pomp ;
and the man feels that he is in harmony, for the
first time in his life, with the universe of God, and
with the mystery of the seasons ; that within him,
as well as without him, the winter is past, and the
rain is over and gone ; the flowers appear on the
earth, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the
land. . . . And suppose I saw in my dream how
the rabbis, when they heard those wicked words,
stopped their ears with one accord, and ran upon
Vol. 75
92 Hypatia
that son of Belial and cast him out, because he
blasphemed their sacred books by his carnal inter-
pretations. And suppose I only say suppose
that I saw in my dream how the poor man said in
his heart, 'I will go to the Christians; they ac-
knowledge the sacredness of this same book ; and
they say that their God taught them that " in the
beginning God made man, male and female."
Perhaps they will tell me whether this Song of
Songs does not, as it seems to me to do, show the
passage upwards from brutal polygamy to that
monogamy which they so solemnly command, and
agree with me, that it is because the Song preaches
this that it has a right to take its place among the
holy writings ? ' You, as a Christian bishop, should
know what answer such a man would receive. . . .
You are silent? Then I will tell you what answer
he seemed to receive in my dream. ' O blasphe-
mous and carnal man, who pervertest Holy Scrip-
ture into a cloak for thine own licentiousness, as
if it spoke of man's base and sensual affections,
know that this book is to be spiritually interpreted
of the marriage between the soul and its Creator,
and that it is from this very book that the Catholic
Church derives her strongest arguments in favor
of holy virginity, and the glories of a celibate
life.' "
Synesius was still silent.
"And what do you think I saw in my dream
that that man did when he found these Christians
enforcing, as a necessary article of practice, as well
as of faith, a baseless and bombastic metaphor,
borrowed from that very Neo-Platonism out of
which he had just fled for his life? He cursed the
day he was born, and the hour in which his father
The Squire-Bishop 93
was told, ' Thou hast gotten a man-child/ and
said, ' Philosophers, Jews, and Christians, fare-
well for ever and a day ! The clearest words of
your most sacred books mean anything or nothing,
as the case may suit your fancies; and there is
neither truth nor reason under the sun. What
better is there for a man, than to follow the ex-
ample of his people, and to turn usurer, and
money-getter, and cajoler of fools in his turn, even
as his father was before him ? ' '
Synesius remained a while in deep thought, and
at last :
14 And yet you came to me? "
" I did, because you have loved and married ;
because you have stood out manfully against this
strange modern insanity, and refused to give up,
when you were made a bishop, the wife whom
God had given you. You, I thought, could solve
the riddle for me, if any man could."
" Alas, friend ! I have begun to distrust, of late,
my power of solving riddles. After all, why should
they be solved ? What matters one more mystery
in a world of mysteries ? ' If thou marry, thou
hast not sinned,' are Saint Paul's own words ; and
let them be enough for us. Do not ask me to
argue with you, but to help you. Instead of puz-
zling me with deep questions, and tempting me to
set up my private judgment, as I have done too
often already, against the opinion of the Church,
tell me your story, and test my sympathy rather
than my intellect I shall feel with you and work
for you, doubt not, even though I am unable to
explain to myself why I do it."
" Then you cannot solve my riddle ? "
" Let me help you," said Synesius, with a sweet
94 Hypatia
smile, " to solve it for yourself. You need not try
to deceive me. You have a love, an undefiled, who
is but one. When you possess her, you will be able
to judge better whether your interpretation of the
Song is the true one ; and if you still think that
it is, Synesius, at least, will have no quarrel against
you. He has always claimed for himself the right
of philosophizing in private, and he will allow the
same liberty to you, whether the mob do or not"
"Then you agree with me? Of course you
do ! "
" Is it fair to ask me whether I accept a novel
interpretation, which I have only heard five minutes
ago, delivered in a somewhat hasty and rhetorical
form?"
" You are shirking the question," said Raphael,
peevishly.
" And what if I am ? Tell me, point-blank, most
self-tormenting of men, can I help you in practice,
even though I choose to leave you to yourself in
speculation?"
" Well, then, if you will have my story, take it,
and judge for yourself of Christian common
sense."
And hurriedly, as if ashamed of his own confes-
sion, and yet compelled, in spite of himself, to
unbosom it, he told Synesius all, from his first
meeting with Victoria to his escape from her at
Berenice.
The good bishop, to Aben-Ezra's surprise,
seemed to treat the whole matter as infinitely
amusing. He chuckled, smote his hand on his
thigh, and nodded approval at every pause
perhaps to give the speaker courage perhaps
because he really thought that Raphael's pros-
The Squire-Bishop 95
pects were considerably less desperate than he
fancied. . . .
" If you laugh at me, Synesius, I am silent. It
is quite enough to endure the humiliation of telling
you that I am confound it ! like any boy of
sixteen."
" Laugh at you ? with you, you mean. A con-
vent? Pooh, pooh! The old prefect has enough
sense, I will warrant him, not to refuse a good
match for his child."
" You forget that I have not the honor of being
a Christian."
" Then we '11 make you one. You won't let me
convert you, I know ; you always used to gibe and
jeer at my philosophy. But Augustine comes to-
morrow."
"Augustine?"
" He does indeed ; and we must be off by day-
break, with all the armed men we can muster, to
meet and escort him, and to hunt, of course, going
and coming; for we have had no food this fort-
night, but what our own dogs and bows have fur-
nished us. He shall take you in hand, and cure
you of all your Judaism in a week; and then just
leave the rest to me ; I will manage it somehow or
other. It is sure to come right. No ; do not be
bashful. It will be real amusement to a poor
wretch who can find nothing else to do Heigho I
And as for lying under an obligation to me, why
we can square that by your lending me three or
four thousand gold pieces Heaven knows I want
them! on the certainty of never seeing them
again."
Raphael could not help laughing in his turn.
" Synesius is himself still, I see, and not un-
96 Hypatia
worthy of his ancestor Hercules ; and though he
shrinks from cleansing the Augean stable of my
soul, paws like the war-horse in the valley at the
hope of undertaking any lesser labors in my be-
half. But, my dear generous bishop, this matter
is more serious, and I, the subject of it, have be-
come more serious also, than you fancy. Consider :
by the uncorrupt honor of your Spartan fore-
fathers, Agis, Brasidas, and the rest of them, don't
you think that you are, in your hasty kindness,
tempting me to behave in a way which they would
have called somewhat rascally? "
" How then, my dear man ! You have a very
honorable and praiseworthy desire; and I am
willing to help you to compass it."
" Do you think that I have not cast about before
now for more than one method of compassing it
for myself? My good man, I have been tempted
a dozen times already to turn Christian : but there
has risen up in me the strangest fancy about con-
science and honor. ... I never was scrupulous
before, Heaven knows I am not over-scrupulous
now except about her. I cannot dissemble be-
fore her. I dare not look in her face when I had
a lie in my right hand. . . . She looks through
one into one like a clear-eyed awful goddess.
... I never was ashamed in my life till my eyes
met hers." . . .
" But if you really became a Christian?"
" I cannot. I should suspect my own motives.
Here is another of these absurd soul-anatomizing
scruples which have risen up in me. I should
suspect that I had changed my creed because I
wished to change it that if I was not deceiving
her I was deceiving myself. If I had not loved
The Squire-Bishop 97
her it might have been different : but now just
because I do love her, I will not, I dare not, listen
to Augustine's arguments, or my own thoughts on
the matter."
" Most wayward of men ! " cried Synesius, half
peevishly ; " you seem to take some perverse plea-
sure in throwing yourself into the waves again, the
instant you have climbed a rock of refuge ! "
" Pleasure ? Is there any pleasure in feeling
oneself at death-grips with the devil ? I had given
up believing in him for many a year. . . . And
behold, the moment that I awaken to anything
noble and right, I find the old serpent alive and
strong at my throat ! No wonder that I suspect
him, you, myself I, who have been tempted,
every hour in the last week, temptations to become
a devil. Ay," he went on, raising his voice, as all
the fire of his intense Eastern nature flashed from
his black eyes, " to be a devil ! From my child-
hood till now never have I known what it was to
desire and not to possess. It is not often that I
have had to trouble any poor Naboth for his vine-
yard : but when I have taken a fancy to it, Naboth
has always found it wiser to give way. And now.
. . . Do you fancy that I have not had a dozen
hellish plots flashing across me in the last week !
Look here ! This is the mortgage of her father's
whole estate. I bought it whether by the in-
stigation of Satan or of God of a banker in Bere-
nice, the very day I left them ; and now they, and
every straw which they possess, are in my power.
I can ruin them sell them as slaves betray
them to death as rebels and last, but not least,
cannot I hire a dozen worthy men to carry her off,
and cut the Gordian knot most simply and sum-
98 Hypatia
marily? And yet I dare not. I must be pure to
approach the pure ; and righteous, to kiss the feet
of the righteous. Whence came this new con-
science to me I know not, but come it has; and
I dare no more do a base thing toward her, than
I dare toward a God, if there be one. This very
mortgage I hate it, curse it, now that I possess
it the tempting devil ! "
" Burn it," said Synesius, quietly.
" Perhaps I may. At least, used it never shall
be. Compel her? I am too proud, or too hon-
orable, or something or other, even to solicit her.
She must come to me ; tell me with her own lips
that she loves me, that she will take me, and make
me worthy of her. She must have mercy on me,
of her own free-will, or let her pine and die in
that accursed prison ; and then a scratch with the
trusty old dagger for her father, and another for
myself, will save him from any more superstitions,
and me from any more philosophic doubts, for
a few aeons of ages, till we start again in new lives
he, I suppose, as a jackass, and I as a baboon.
What matter? but unless I possess her by fair
means, God do so to me, and more also, if I
attempt base ones ! "
" God be with you, my son, in the noble war-
fare ! " said Synesius, his eyes rilling with kindly
tears.
" It is no noble warfare at all. It is a base
coward fear, in one who never before feared man
or devil, and is now fallen low enough to be afraid
of a helpless girl ! "
"Not so," cried Synesius, in his turn; " it is a
noble and a holy fear. You fear her goodness.
Could you see her goodness, much less fear it,
The Squire-Bishop 99
were there not a Divine Light within you which
showed you what, and how awful, goodness was?
Tell me no more, Raphael Aben-Ezra, that you do
not fear God ; for he who fears Virtue, fears Him
whose likeness Virtue is. Go on go on. . . .
Be brave, and His strength will be made manifest
in your weakness."
It was late that night before Synesius compelled
his guest to retire, after having warned him not to
disturb himself if he heard the alarm-bell ring, as
the house was well garrisoned, and having set the
water-clock by which he and his servants measured
their respective watches. And then the good
bishop, having disposed his sentinels, took his
station on the top of his tower, close by the warn-
ing-bell ; and as he looked out over the broad lands
of his forefathers, and prayed that their desolation
might come to an end at last, he did not forget to
pray for the desolation of the guest who slept be-
low, a happier and more healthy slumber than he
had known for many a week. For before Raphael
lay down that night, he had torn to shreds Major-
icus's mortgage, and felt a lighter and a better
man as he saw the cunning temptation consuming
scrap by scrap in the lamp-flame. And then,
wearied out with fatigue of body and mind, he
forgot Synesius, Victoria, and the rest, and seemed
to himself to wander all night among the vine-clad
glens of Lebanon, amid the gardens of lilies, and
the beds of spices ; while shepherds' music lured
him on and on, and girlish voices, chanting the
mystic idyl of his mighty ancestor, rang soft and
fitful through his weary brain.
i oo Hypatia
Before sunrise the next morning, Raphael was
faring forth gallantly, well armed and mounted, by
Synesius's side, followed by four or five brace of
tall brush-tailed greyhounds, and by the faithful
Bran, whose lop-ears and heavy jaws, unique in
that land of prick-ears and fox-noses, formed the
absorbing subject of conversation among some
twenty smart retainers, who, armed to the teeth
for chase and war, rode behind the bishop on half-
starved raw-boned horses, inured by desert training
and bad times to do the maximum of work upon
the minimum of food.
For the first few. miles they rode in silence,
through ruined villages and desolated farms, from
which here and there a single inhabitant peeped
forth fearfully, to pour his tale of woe into the ears
of the hapless bishop, and then, instead of asking
alms from him, to entreat his acceptance of some
paltry remnant of grain or poultry, which had
escaped the hands of the marauders ; and as they
clung to his hands, and blessed him as their only
hope and stay, poor Synesius heard patiently again
and again the same purposeless tale of woe, and
mingled his tears with theirs, and then spurred his
horse on impatiently, as if to escape from the sight
of misery which he could not relieve ; while a voice
in Raphael's heart seemed to ask him : "Why
was thy wealth given to thee, but that thou might-
est dry, if but for a day, such tears as these? "
And he fell into a meditation which was not
without its fruit in due season, but which lasted till
they had left the inclosed country, and were
climbing the slopes of the low rolling hills, over
which lay the road from the distant sea. But as
they left the signs of war behind them, the volatile
The Squire- Bishop 101
temper of the good bishop began to rise. He
petted his hounds, chatted to his men, discoursed
on the most probable quarter for finding game,
and exhorted them cheerfully enough to play the
man, as their chance of having anything to eat at
night depended entirely on their prowess during
the day.
" Ah ! " said Raphael at last, glad of a pretext
for breaking his own chain of painful thought,
" there is a vein of your land-salt. I suspect that
you were all at the bottom of the sea once, and
that the old Earthshaker Neptune, tired of your
bad ways, gave you a lift one morning, and set
you up as dry land, in order to be rid of you."
" It may really be so. They say that the Argo-
nauts returned back through this country from the
Southern Ocean, which must have been therefore
far nearer us than it is now, and that they carried
their mystic vessel over these very hills to the
Syrtis. However, we have forgotten all about the
sea thoroughly enough since that time. I well
remember my first astonishment at the sight of a
galley in Alexandria, and the roar of laughter with
which my fellow-students greeted my not unreason-
able remark, that it looked very like a centipede."
" And do you recollect, too, the argument which
I had once with your steward about the pickled
fish which I brought you from Egypt; and the
way in which, when the jar was opened, the ser-
vants shrieked and ran right and left, declaring
that the fish-bones were the spines of poisonous
serpents?"
" The old fellow is as obstinate as ever, I assure
you, in his disbelief in salt water. He torments
me continually by asking me to tell him the story
IO2 Hypatia
of my shipwreck, and does not believe me after
all, though he has heard it a dozen times. ' Sir,'
he said to me, solemnly, after you were gone, ' will
that strange gentleman pretend to persuade me
that anything eatable can come out of his great
pond there at Alexandria, when every one can
see that the best fountain in the country never
breeds anything but frogs and leeches ? ' "
As he spoke they left the last field behind them,
and entered upon a vast sheet of breezy down,
speckled with shrubs and copse, and split here and
there by rocky glens, ending in fertile valleys, once
thick with farms and homesteads.
" Here," cried Synesius, " are our hunting-
grounds. And now for one hour's forgetfulness,
and the joys of the noble art. What could old
Homer have been thinking of when he forgot to
number it among the pursuits which are glorious
to heroes, and make man illustrious, and yet could
laud in those very words the forum ? "
"The forum?" said Raphael. "I never saw it
yet make men anything but rascals."
" Brazen-faced rascals, my friend. I detest the
whole breed of lawyers, and never meet one with-
out turning him into ridicule; effeminate petti-
foggers, who shudder at the very sight of roast
venison, when they think of the dangers by which
it has been procured. But it is a cowardly age,
my friend a cowardly age. Let us forget it,
and ourselves."
" And even philosophy and Hypatia ! " said
Raphael, archly.
" I have done with philosophy. To fight like
an Heracleid, and to die like a bishop, is all I have
left except Hypatia, the perfect, the wise! I
The Squire-Bishop 103
tell you, friend, it is a comfort to me, even in my
deepest misery, to recollect that the corrupt world
yet holds one being so divine "
And he was running on in one of his high-flown
laudations of his idol, when Raphael checked
him.
" I fear our common sympathy on that subject
is rather weakened. I have begun to doubt her
lately nearly as much as I doubt philosophy."
" Not her virtue ? "
" No, friend ; nor her beauty, nor her wisdom ;
simply her power of making me a better man. A
selfish criterion, you will say. Be it so. ... What
a noble horse that is of yours ! "
" He has been he has been ; but worn out now,
like his master and his master's fortunes." . . .
" Not so, certainly, the colt on which you have
done me the honor to mount me."
" Ah, my poor boy's pet ! . . .You are the first
person who has crossed him since "
"Is he of your own breeding?" asked Raphael,
trying to turn the conversation.
" A cross between that white Nisaean which you
sent me, and one of my own mares."
" Not a bad cross ; though he keeps a little of
the bull head and greyhound flank of your
Africans."
"So much the better, friend. Give me bone
bone and endurance for this rough down country.
Your delicate Nisaeans are all very well for a few
minutes over those flat sands of Egypt : but here
you need a horse who will go forty miles a day
over rough and smooth, and dine thankfully off
thistles at night. Aha, poor little man ! " as a
jerboa sprang up from a tuft of bushes at his
1 04 Hypatia
feet " I fear you must help to fill our soup-kettle
in these hard times."
And with a dexterous sweep of his long whip,
the worthy bishop entangled the jerboa's long
legs, whisked him up to his saddle-bow, and de-
livered him to the groom and the game-bag.
" Kill him at once. Don't let him squeak, boy !
he cries too like a child." . . .
"Poor little wretch!" said Raphael. "What
more right, now, have we to eat him than he to
eat us?"
" Eh? If he can eat us, let him try. How long
have you joined the Manichees?"
" Have no fears on that score. But, as I told you,
since my wonderful conversion by Bran, the dog, I
have begun to hold dumb animals in respect, as
probably quite as good as myself."
"Then you need a further conversion, friend
Raphael, and to learn what is the dignity of man ;
and when that arrives, you will learn to believe, with
me, that the life of every beast upon the face of the
earth would be a cheap price to pay in exchange
for the life of the meanest human being."
" Yes, if they be required for food : but really, to
kill them for our amusement ! "
" Friend, when I was still a heathen, I recollect
well how I used to haggle at that story of the curs-
ing of the fig-tree ; but when I learnt to know what
man was, and that I had been all my life mistaking
for a part of nature that race which was originally,
and can be again, made in the likeness of God,
then I began to see that it were well if every fig-
tree upon earth were cursed, if the spirit of one
man could be taught thereby a single lesson. And
so I speak of these, my darling field-sports, on
The Squire-Bishop 105
which I have not been ashamed, as you know, to
write a book."
" And a very charming one : yet you were still
a pagan, recollect, when you wrote it."
" I was ; and then I followed the chase by mere
nature and inclination. But now I know I have a
right to follow it, because it gives me endurance,
promptness, courage, self-control, as well as health
and cheerfulness: and therefore Ah! a fresh
ostrich-track ! "
And stopping short, Synesius began pricking
slowly up the hill-side.
" Back ! " whispered he, at last. " Quietly and
silently. Lie down on your horse's neck, as I do, or
the long-necked rogues may see you. They must
be close to us over the brow. I know that favorite
grassy slope of old. Round under yon hill, or they
will get wind of us, and then farewell to them ! "
And Synesius and his groom cantered on, hang-
ing each to their horses' necks by an arm and a
leg, in a way which Raphael endeavored in vain to
imitate.
Two or three minutes more of breathless silence
brought them to the edge of the hill, where
Synesius halted, peered down a moment, and
then turned to Raphael, his face and limbs quiver-
ing with delight, as he held up two fingers, to
denote the number of the birds.
" Out of arrow-range ! Slip the dogs, Syphax ! "
And in another minute Raphael found himself
galloping headlong down the hill, while two mag-
nificent ostriches, their outspread plumes waving
in the bright breeze, their necks stooped almost to
the ground, and their long legs flashing out behind
them, were sweeping away before the greyhounds
106 Hypatia
at a pace which no mortal horse could have held
for ten minutes.
" Baby that I am still ! " cried Synesius, tears of
excitement glittering in his eyes; . . . while
Raphael gave himself up to the joy, and forgot
even Victoria, in the breathless rush over rock and
bush, sandhill and watercourse.
" Take care of that dry torrent-bed ! Hold up,
old horse ! This will not last two minutes more.
They cannot hold their pace against this breeze.
. . . Well tried, good dog, though you did miss
him ! Ah, that my boy were here ! There they
double. Spread right and left, my children, and
ride at them as they pass ! "
And the ostriches, unable, as Synesius said, to
keep their pace against the breeze, turned sharp on
their pursuers, and beating the air with outspread
wings, came down the wind again, at a rate even
more wonderful than before.
" Ride at him, Raphael ride at him, and turn
him into those bushes ! " cried Synesius, fitting an
arrow to his bow.
Raphael obeyed, and the bird swerved into the
low scrub; the well-trained horse leaped at him
like a cat; and Raphael, who dare not trust his
skill in archery, struck with his whip at the long
neck as it struggled past him, and felled the noble
quarry to the ground. He was in the act of spring-
ing down to secure his prize, when a shout from
Synesius stopped him.
"Are you mad? He will kick out your heart!
Let the dogs hold him."
"Where is the other? " asked Raphael, panting.
" Where he ought to be. I have not missed a
running shot for many a month."
The Squire-Bishop 107
" Really, you rival the Emperor Commodus him-
self."
" Ah ! I tried his fancy of crescent-headed arrows
once, and decapitated an ostrich or two tolerably:
but they are only fit for the amphitheatre : they
will not lie safely in the quiver on horseback, I find.
But what is that? " And he pointed to a cloud of
white dust, about a mile down the valley. " A herd
of antelopes? If so, God is indeed gracious to us !
Come dow'n whatsoever they are, we have no
time to lose."
And collecting his scattered forces, Synesius
pushed on rapidly towards the object which had
attracted his attention.
" Antelopes ! " cried one.
" Wild horses ! " cried another.
"Tame ones, rather!" cried Synesius, with a
gesture of wrath. " I saw the flash of arms ! "
"The Ausurians!" And a yell of rage rang
from the whole troop.
"Will you follow me, children?"
" To death ! " shouted they.
" I know it. Oh that I had seven hundred of
you, as Abraham had ! We would see then whether
these scoundrels did not share, within a week, the
fate of Chedorlaomer*s."
" Happy man, who can actually trust your own
slaves ! " said Raphael, as the party galloped on,
tightening their girdles and getting ready their
weapons.
"Slaves? If the law gives me the power of
selling one or two of them who are not yet wise
enough to be trusted to take care of themselves,
it is a fact which both I and they have long for-
gotten. Their fathers grew gray at my father's
io8 Hypatia
table, and God grant that they may grow gray
at mine ! We eat together, work together, hunt
together, fight together, jest together, and weep
together. God help us all ! for we have but one
common weal. Now do you make out the
enemy, boys?"
"Ausurians, your holiness. The same party
who tried Myrsinitis last week. I know them by
the helmets which they took from the Markmen."
"And with whom are they fighting?"
No one could see. Fighting they certainly were :
but their victims were beyond them, and the party
galloped on.
" That was a smart business at Myrsinitis. The
Ausurians appeared while the people were at
morning prayers. The soldiers, of course, ran
for their lives, and hid in the caverns, leaving
the matter to the priests."
" If they were of your presbytery, I doubt not
they proved themselves worthy of their diocesan."
" Ah, if all my priests were but like them ! or
my people either ! " said Synesius, chatting quietly
in full gallop, like a true son of the saddle. " They
offered up prayers for victory, sallied out at the
head of the peasants, and met the Moors in a
narrow pass. There their hearts failed them a lit-
tle. Faustus, the deacon, makes them a speech;
charges the leader of the robbers, like young
David, with a stone, beats his brains out there-
with, strips him in true Homeric fashion, and
routs the Ausurians with their leader's sword;
returns and erects a trophy in due classic form,
and saves the whole valley."
"You should make him archdeacon,"
"I would send him and his townsfolk round the
The Squire-Bishop 109
province, if I could, crowned with laurel, and pro-
claim before them at every market-place, ' These
are men of God.' With whom can those Ausu-
rians be dealing? Peasants would have been all
killed long ago, and soldiers would have run away
long ago. It is truly a portent in this country
to see a fight last ten minutes. Who can they be ?
I see them now, and hewing away like men too.
They are all on foot but two ; and we have not a
cohort of infantry left for many a mile round."
"I know who they are!" cried Raphael, sud-
denly striking spurs into his horse. " I will swear
to that armor among a thousand. And there
is a litter in the midst of them. On ! and fight,
men, if you ever fought in your lives ! "
" Softly ! " cried Synesius. " Trust an old sol-
dier, and perhaps alas I that he should have to
say it the best left in this wretched country.
Round by the hollow, and take the barbarians
suddenly in flank. They will not see us then till
we are within twenty paces of them. Aha ! you
have a thing or two to learn yet, Aben-Ezra."
And chuckling at the prospect of action, the
gallant bishop wheeled his little troop, and in
five minutes more dashed out of the copse with
a shout and a flight of arrows, and rushed into
the thickest of the fight.
One cavalry skirmish must be very like another.
A crash of horses, a flashing of sword-blades, five
minutes of blind confusion, and then those who
have not been knocked out of their saddles by
their neighbors' knees, and have not cut off their
own horses' heads instead of their enemy's, find
themselves, they know not how, either running
away or being run away from not one blow in
no Hypati*
ten having taken effect on either side. And even
so Raphael, having made vain attempts to cut down
several Moors, found himself standing on his head
in an altogether undignified posture, among in-
numerable horses' legs, in all possible frantic mo-
tions. To avoid one was to get in the way of
another ; so he philosophically sat still, speculat-
ing on the sensation of having his brains kicked
out, till the cloud of legs vanished, and he found
himself kneeling abjectly opposite the nose of a
mule, on whose back sat, utterly unmoved, a tall
and reverend man, in episcopal costume. The
stranger, instead of bursting out laughing, as
Raphael did, solemnly lifted his hand, and gave
him his blessing. The Jew sprang to his feet,
heedless of all such courtesies, and, looking round,
saw the Ausurians galloping off up the hill in
scattered groups, and Synesius standing close by
him, wiping a bloody sword.
" Is the litter safe ? " were his first words.
" Safe ; and so are all. I gave you up for killed,
when I saw you run through with that lance."
"Run through? I am as sound in the hide as
a crocodile," said Raphael, laughing.
" Probably the fellow took the butt instead of
the point, in his hurry. So goes a cavalry scuffle.
I saw you hit three or four fellows running with
the flat of your sword."
"Ah, that explains," said Raphael. "Why, I
thought myself once the best swordsman on the
Armenian frontier." . . .
" I suspect that you were thinking of some one
besides the Moors," said Synesius, archly pointing
to the litter; and Raphael, for the first time for
many a year, blushed like a boy of fifteen, and
The Squire-Bishop 1 1 1
then turned haughtily away, and remounted his
horse, saying, "Clumsy fool that I was ! "
"Thank God rather that you have been kept
from the shedding of blood," said the stranger
bishop, in a soft, deliberate voice, with a peculiarly
clear and delicate enunciation. " If God have given
us the victory, why grudge His having spared any
other of His creatures besides ourselves ? "
" Because there are so many the more of them
left to ravish, burn, and slay," answered Synesius.
" Nevertheless, I am not going to argue with
Augustine."
Augustine ! Raphael looked intently at the man,
a tall, delicate-featured personage, with a lofty and
narrow forehead, scarred like his cheeks with the
deep furrows of many a doubt and woe. Resolve,
gentle but unbending, was expressed in his thin
close-set lips and his clear quiet eye ; but the calm
of his mighty countenance was the calm of a
worn-out volcano, over which centuries must pass
before the earthquake-rents be rilled with kindly
soil, and the cinder-slopes grow gay with grass
and flowers. The Jew's thoughts, however, were
soon turned into another channel by the hearty
embraces of Majoricus and his son.
"We have caught you again, you truant!"
said the young tribune; "you could not escape
us, you see, after all."
" Rather," said the father, " we owe him a
second debt of gratitude for a second deliverance.
We were right hard bested when you rode up."
" Oh, he brings nothing but good with him
whenever he appears ; and then he pretends to be
a bird of ill omen," said the light-hearted tribune,
putting his armor to rights.
U2 Hypatia
Raphael was in his secret heart not sorry to find
that his old friends bore him no grudge for his
caprice : but all he answered was :
" Pray thank any one but me ; I have, as usual,
proved myself a fool. But what brings you here,
like gods e Mac hind f It is contrary to all proba-
bilities. One would not admit so astounding an
incident, even in the modern drama."
" Contrary to none whatsoever, my friend. We
found Augustine at Berenice, in act to set off to
Synesius : we on^e of us, that is were certain
that you would be found with him ; and we decided
on acting as Augustine's guard, for none of the
dastard garrison dare stir out."
" One of us," thought Raphael, " which one ? "
And, conquering his pride, he asked, as carelessly
as he could, for Victoria.
" She is there in the litter, poor child 1 " said
her father, in a serious tone.
"Surely, not ill?"
" Alas ! either the overwrought excitement of
months of heroism broke down when she found us
safe at last, or some stroke from God . . .
Who can tell what I may not have deserved?
But she has been utterly prostrate in body and
mind, ever since we parted from you at Berenice."
The blunt soldier little guessed the meaning
of his own words. But Raphael, as he heard,
felt a pang shoot through his heart, too keen for
him to discern whether it sprang from joy or
from despair.
" Come," cried the cheerful voice of Synesius,
"come, Aben-Ezra; you have knelt for Augus-
tine's blessing already, and now you must enter
into the fruition of it. Come, you two philoso-
The Squire-Bishop 113
phers must know each other. Most holy, I entreat
you to preach to this friend of mine, at once the
wisest and the foolishest of men."
" Only the latter," said Raphael ; " but open to
any speech of Augustine's, at least when we are
safe home, and game enough for Synesius's new
guests killed."
And turning away, he rode silent and sullen by
the side of his companions, who began at once to
consult together as to the plans of Majoricus and
his soldiers.
In spite of himself, Raphael soon became inter-
ested in Augustine's conversation. He entered
into the subject of Cyrenian misrule and ruin as
heartily and shrewdly as any man of the world;
and when all the rest were at a loss, the prompt
practical hint which cleared up the difficulty was
certain to come from him. It was by his advice
that Majoricus had brought his soldiery hither;
it was his proposal that they should be employed
for a fixed period in defending these remote
southern boundaries of the province ; he checked
the impetuosity of Synesius, cheered the despair
of Majoricus, appealed to the honor and the
Christianity of the soldiers, and seemed to have a
fcrord and that the right word for every man ;
and after a while, Aben-Ezra quite forgot the
stiffness and deliberation of his manner, and the
quaint use of Scripture texts in far-fetched illustra-
tions of every opinion which he propounded. It
had seemed at first a mere affectation; but the
arguments which it was employed to enforce were
in themselves so moderate and so rational, that
Raphael began to feel, little by little, that his appar-
ent pedantry was only the result of a wish to refer
114 Hypatia
every matter, even the most vulgar, to some deep
and divine rule of right and wrong.
" But you forget all this while, my friends," said
Majoricus at last, " the danger which you incur by
sheltering proclaimed rebels."
" The King of kings has forgiven your rebellion,
in that while He has punished you by the loss of
your lands and honors, He has given you your life
for a prey in this city of refuge. It remains for
you to bring forth worthy fruits of penitence ; of
which I know none better than those which John the
Baptist commanded to the soldiery of old, ' Do no
violence to any man, and be content with your
wages.' "
"As for rebels and rebellion," said Synesius,
" they are matters unknown among us ; for where
there is no king there can be no rebellion. Who-
soever will help us against Ausurians is loyal in
our eyes. And as for our political creed, it is
simple enough namely, that the emperor never
dies, and that his name is Agamemnon, who fought
at Troy; which any of my grooms will prove to
you syllogistically enough to satisfy Augustine
himself. As thus :
" Agamemnon was the greatest and the best of
kings.
"The emperor is the greatest and the best of
kings.
" Therefore, Agamemnon is the emperor, and
conversely."
" It had been well," said Augustine, with a grave
smile, " if some of our friends had held the same
doctrine, even at the expense of their logic."
' " Or if," answered Synesius, " they believed with
us, that the emperor's chamberlain is a clever old
The Squire-Bishop 115
man, with a bald head like my own, Ulysses by
name, who was rewarded with the prefecture of all
lands north of the Mediterranean, for putting out
the Cyclop's eye two years ago. However, enough
of this. But, you see, you are not in any extreme
danger of informers and intriguers. . . . The real
difficulty is, how you will be able to obey Augustine,
by being content with your wages. For," lowering
his voice, " you will get literally none."
" It will be as much as we deserve," said the
young tribune ; " but my fellows have a trick of
eating "
"They are welcome, then, to all deer and os-
triches which they can catch. But I am not only
penniless, but reduced myself to live, like the Laes-
trygons, on meat and nothing else ; all crops and
stocks for miles round being either burnt or carried
off."
" E nihilo nihil I " said Augustine, having noth-
ing else to say. But here Raphael woke up on a
sudden with :
" Did the Pentapolitan wheat-ships go to
Rome?"
" No ; Orestes stopped them when he stopped
the Alexandrian convoy."
" Then the Jews have the wheat, trust them for
it; and what they have I have. There are certain
moneys of mine lying at interest in the seaports,
which will set that matter to rights for a month or
two. Do you find an escort to-morrow, and I will
find wheat."
" But, most generous of friends, I can neither
repay you interest nor principal."
" Be it so. I have spent so much money during
the last thirty years in doing nothing but evil, that
Vol. 7-6
1 1 6 Hypatia
it is hard if I may not at last spend a little in doing
good. Unless his Holiness of Hippo thinks it
wrong for you to accept the good will of an
infidel?"
" Which of these three," said Augustine, " was
neighbor to him who fell among thieves, but he
who had mercy on him ? Verily, my friend Raphael
Aben-Ezra, thou art not far from the kingdom of
God."
" Of which God? " asked Raphael, slily.
" Of the God of thy forefather Abraham, whom
thou shalt hear us worship this evening, if He will.
Synesius, have you a church wherein I can per-
form the evening service, and give a word of ex-
hortation to these my children?"
Synesius sighed. " There is a ruin, which was
last month a church."
" And is one still. Man did not place there the
presence of God, and man cannot expel it."
And so, sending out hunting-parties right and
left in chase of everything which had animal life,
and picking up before nightfall a tolerably abun-
dant supply of game, they went homewards, where
Victoria was intrusted to the care of Synesius's old
stewardess, and the soldiery were marched straight
into the church; while Synesius's servants, to
whom the Latin service would have been un-
intelligible, busied themselves in cooking the
still warm game.
Strangely enough it sounded to Raphael that
evening, to hear, among those smoke-grimed pil-
lars and fallen rafters, the grand old Hebrew psalms
of his nation ring aloft, to the very chants, too,
which were said by the rabbi to have been used
in the Temple-worship of Jerusalem. . . . They,
The Squire-Bishop 117
and the invocations, thanksgivings, blessings, the
very outward ceremonial itself, were all Hebraic,
redolent of the thoughts, the words of his own an-
cestors. That lesson from the book of Proverbs,
which Augustine's deacon was reading in Latin
the blood of the man who wrote these words was
flowing in Aben-Ezra's veins. . . . Was it a mis-
take, an hypocrisy? or were they indeed worship-
ping, as they fancied, the Ancient One who spoke
face to face with his forefathers, the Archetype of
man, the friend of Abraham and of Israel?
And now the sermon began ; and as Augustine
stood for a moment in prayer in front of the ruined
altar, every furrow in his worn face lit up by a ray
of moonlight which streamed in through the broken
roof, Raphael waited impatiently for his speech.
What would he, the refined dialectician, the ancient
teacher of heathen rhetoric, the courtly and learned
student, the ascetic celibate and theosopher, have
to say to those coarse war-worn soldiers, Thracians
and Markmen, Gauls and Belgians, who sat watch-
ing there, with those sad earnest faces? What one
thought or feeling in common could there be be-
tween Augustine and his congregation?
At last, after signing himself with the cross, he
began. The subject was one of the Psalms which
had just been read a battle Psalm, concerning
Moab and Amalek, and the old border wars of
Palestine. What would he make of that?
He seemed to start lamely enough, in spite of
the exquisite grace of his voice, and manner, and
language, and the epigrammatic terseness of every
sentence. He spent some minutes over the inscrip-
tion of the Psalm allegorized it made it mean
something which it never did mean in the writer's
1 1 8 Hypatia
mind, and which it, as Raphael well knew, never
could mean, for his interpretation was founded on
a sheer mis-translation. He punned on the Latin
version derived the meaning of Hebrew words
from Latin etymologies. . . . And as he went on
with the Psalm itself, the common sense of David
seemed to evaporate in mysticism. The most
fantastic and far-fetched illustrations, drawn from
the commonest objects, alternated with mysterious
theosophic dogma. Where was that learning for
which he was so famed ? Where was that reverence
for the old Hebrew Scriptures which he professed ?
He was treating David as ill as Hypatia used to treat
Homer worse even than old Philo did, when in
the home life of the old Patriarchs, and in the
mighty acts of Moses and Joshua, he could find
nothing but spiritual allegories wherewith to pam-
per the private experiences of the secluded theos-
ophist. And Raphael felt very much inclined to
get up and go away, and still more inclined to say,
with a smile, in his haste, " All men are liars." . . .
And yet, what an illustration that last one was !
No mere fancy, but a real deep glance into the
working of the material universe, as symbolic of
the spiritual and unseen one. And not drawn, as
Hypatia's were, exclusively from some sublime or
portentous phenomenon, but from some dog, or
kettle, or fish-wife, with a homely insight worthy
of old Socrates himself. How personal he was
becoming, too ! . . . No long bursts of declamation,
but dramatic dialogue and interrogation, by-hints,
and unexpected hits at one and the other most
commonplace soldier's failing. . . . And yet each
pithy rebuke was put in a universal, comprehensive
form, which made Raphael himself wince which
The Squire-Bishop 119
might, he thought, have made any man, or woman,
either, wince in like manner. Well, whether or
not Augustine knew truths for all men, he at least
knew sins for all men, and for himself as well as
his hearers. There was no denying that. He was
a real man, right or wrong. What he rebuked in
others, he had felt in himself, and fought it to the
death-grip, as the flash and quiver of that worn face
proclaimed. . . . But yet, why were the Edomites,
by an utterly mistaken pun on their name, to signify
one sort of sin, and the Ammonites another, and
the Amalekites another? What had that to do
with the old Psalm ? What had it to do with the
present auditory? Was not this the wildest and
lowest form of that unreal, subtilizing, mystic
pedantry, of which he had sickened long ago in
Hypatia's lecture-room, till he fled to Bran, the
dog, for honest practical realities?
No. . . . Gradually, as Augustine's hints became
more practical and pointed, Raphael saw that there
was in his mind a most real and organic connection,
true or false, in what seemed at first mere arbitrary
allegory. Amalekites, personal sins, Ausurian
robbers and ravishers, were to him only so many
different forms of one and the same evil. He who
helped any of them fought against the righteous
God : he who fought against them fought for that
God ; but he must conquer the Amalekites within,
if he expected to conquer the Amalekites without
Could the legionaries permanently put down the
lust and greed around them, while their own hearts
were enslaved to lust and greed within? Would
they not be helping it by example, while they pre-
tended to crush it by sword-strokes? Was it not
a mockery, an hypocrisy? Could God's blessing
1 20 Hypatia
be on it? Could they restore unity and peace to
the country while there was neither unity nor peace
within them ? What had produced the helplessness
of the people, the imbecility of the military, but
inward helplessness, inward weakness ? They were
weak against Moors, because they were weak
against enemies more deadly than Moors. How
could they fight for God outwardly, while they
were fighting against Him inwardly? He would
not go forth with their hosts. How could He,
when He was not among their hosts ? He, a spirit,
must dwell in their spirits. . . . And then the
shout of a King would be among them, and one
of them should chase a thousand. ... Or if not
if both people and soldiers required still further
chastening and humbling what matter, provided
that they were chastened and humbled? What
matter if their faces were confounded, if they were
thereby driven to seek His Name, who alone was
the Truth, the Light, and the Life? What if they
were slain ? Let them have conquered the inward
enemies, what matter to them if the outward
enemies seemed to prevail for a monent? They
should be recompensed at the resurrection of the
just, when death was swallowed up in victory. It
would be seen then who had really conquered in
the eyes of the just God they, God's ministers,
the defenders of peace and justice, or the Ausu-
rians, the enemies thereof. . . . And then, by some
quaintest turn of fancy, he introduced a word of
pity and hope, even for the wild Moorish robbers.
It might be good for them to have succeeded thus
far ; they might learn from their Christian captives,
purified by affliction, truths which those captives
had forgotten in prosperity. And, again, it might
The Squire-Bishop 121
be good for them, as well as for Christians, to be
confounded and made like chaff before the wind,
that so they too might learn His Name. . . . And
so on, through and in spite of all conceits, allegories,
overstrained interpretations, Augustine went on
evolving from the Psalms, and from the past, and
from the future, the assertion of a living, present
God, the eternal enemy of discord, injustice, and
evil, the eternal helper and deliverer of those who
were enslaved and crushed thereby in soul or body.
... It was all most strange to Raphael. . . .
Strange in its utter unlikeness to any teaching,
Platonist or Hebrew, which he had ever heard
before, and stranger still in its agreement with
those teachings ; in the instinctive ease with which
it seemed to unite and justify them all by the
talisman of some one idea and what that might
be, his Jewish prejudices could not prevent his see-
ing, and yet would not allow him to acknowledge.
But, howsoever he might redden with Hebrew
pride ; howsoever he might long to persuade him-
self that Augustine was building up a sound and
right practical structure on the foundation of a
sheer lie ; he could not help watching, at first with
envy, and then with honest pleasure, the faces of
the rough soldiers, as they gradually lightened up
into fixed attention, into cheerful and solemn
resolve.
" What wonder? " said Raphael to himself, " what
wonder, after all ? He has been speaking to these
wild beasts as to sages and saints; he has been
telling them that God is as much with them as with
prophets and psalmists. ... I wonder if Hypatia,
with all her beauty, could have touched their hearts
as he has done ? "
122 Hypatia
And when Raphael rose at the end of this
strange discourse, he felt more like an old Hebrew
than he had done since he sat upon his nurse's
knee, and heard legends about Solomon and the
Queen of Sheba. What. if Augustine were right
after all? What if the Jehovah of the old Script-
ures were not merely the national patron of the
children of Abraham, as the rabbis held; not
merely, as Philo held, the Divine Wisdom which
inspired a few elect sages, even among the hea-
then ; but the Lord of the whole earth, and of the
nations thereof? And suddenly, for the first time
in his life, passages from the Psalms and prophets
flashed across him, which seemed to assert this.
What else did that whole book of Daniel and the
history of Nebuchadnezzar mean if not that?
Philosophic latitudinarianism had long ago cured
him of the rabbinical notion of the Babylonian con-
queror as an incarnate fiend, devoted to Tophet, like
Sennacherib before him. He had long in private
admired the man, as a magnificent human char-
acter, a fairer one, in his eyes, than either Alexan-
der or Julius Caesar. . . . What if Augustine had
given him a hint which might justify his admira-
tion? . . . But more. . . . What if Augustine
were right in going even further than Philo and
Hypatia? What if this same Jehovah, Wisdom,
Logos, call Him what they might, were actually
the God of the spirits, as well as of the bodies of
all flesh ? What if He was as near Augustine
said that He was to the hearts of those wild
Markmen, Gauls, Thracians, as to Augustine's own
heart? What if He were Augustine said He
was yearning after, enlightening, leading home to
Himself, the souls of the poorest, the most brutal,
The Squire-Bishop 123
the most sinful ? What if He loved man as man,
and not merely one favored race or one favored
class of minds? . . . And in the light of that
hypothesis, that strange story of the Cross of Cal-
vary seemed not so impossible after all. . . . But
then, celibacy and asceticism, utterly non-human as
they were, what had they to do with the theory of
a human God?
And filled with many questionings, Raphael
was not sorry to have the matter brought to an
issue that very evening, in Synesius's sitting-room.
Majoricus, in his blunt, soldierlike way, set Raphael
and Augustine at each other without circumlocu-
tion; and Raphael, after trying to smile and
pooh-pooh away the subject, was tempted to make
a jest on a seeming fallacious conceit of Augus-
tine's, found it more difficult than he thought to
trip up the serious and wary logician, lost his
temper a little a sign, perhaps, of returning
health in a skeptic and soon found himself fight-
ing desperately, with Synesius backing him, appar-
ently for the mere pleasure of seeing a battle, and
Majoricus making him more and more cross by
the implicit dogmatic faith with which he hewed
at one Gordian knot after another, till Augustine
had to save himself from his friends by tripping
the good prefect gently up, and leaving him miles
behind the disputants, who argued on and on, till
broad daylight shone in, and the sight of the
desolation below recalled all parties to more mate-
rial weapons, and a sterner warfare.
But little thought Raphael Aben-Ezra, as he sat
there, calling up every resource o." his wit and
learning, in he hope, half malicious, half honestly
cautious, of upsetting the sage of Hippo, and for-
1 24 Hypatia
getting all heaven and earth in the delight of battle
with his peers, that in a neighboring chamber, her
tender limbs outspread upon the floor, her face
buried in her dishevelled ocks, lay Victoria, wres-
tling all night long for him in prayer and bitter
tears, as the murmur of busy voices reached her
eager ears, longing in vain to catch the sense of
words, on which hung now her hopes and bliss
how utterly and entirely, she had never yet con-
fessed to herself, though she dare confess it to
that Son of Man to whom she prayed, as to One
who felt with tenderness and insight beyond that
of a brother, a father, even of a mother, for her
maiden's blushes and her maiden's woes.
CHAPTER XXII
PANDEMONIUM
BUT where was Philammon all that week?
For the first day or two of his imprisonment
he had raved like some wild beast entrapped. His
new-found purpose and energy, thus suddenly
dammed back and checked, boiled up in frantic
rage. He tore at the bars of his prison ; he rolled
himself, shrieking, on the floor. He called in vain
on Hypatia, on Pelagia, on Arsenius on all but
God. Pray he could not, and dare not; for to
whom was he to pray? To the stars? to the
abysses and the eternities? . . .
Alas I as Augustine said once, bitterly enough,
of his own Manichaean teachers, Hypatia had
taken away the living God, and given him instead
the four elements. . . . And in utter bewilder-
ment and hopeless terror he implored the pity of
every guard and jailer who passed along the cor-
ridor, and conjured them, as brothers, fathers,
men, to help him. Moved at once by his agony
and by his exceeding beauty, the rough Thracians,
who knew enough of their employer's character to
have little difficulty in believing his victim to be
innocent, listened to him and questioned him.
But when they offered the very help which he im-
plored, and asked him to tell his story, the poor
boy's tongue clave to the roof of his mouth. How
126 Hypatia
could he publish his sister's shame ? And yet she
was about to publish it herself! . . . And instead
of words, he met their condolences with fresh
agonies, till they gave him up as mad ; and, tired
by his violence, compelled him, with blows and
curses, to remain quiet; and so the week wore
out, in dull and stupefied despair, which trembled
on the very edge of idiocy. Night and day were
alike to him. The food which was thrust in
through his grate remained untasted; hour after
hour, day after day, he sat upon the ground, his
head buried in his hands, half-dozing from mere
exhaustion of body and mind. Why should he
care to stir, to eat, to live ? He had but one pur-
pose in heaven and earth: and that one purpose
was impossible.
At last his cell-door grated on its hinges. " Up,
my mad youth ! " cried a rough voice. " Up, and
thank the favor of the gods, and the bounty of our
noble ahem ! prefect. To-day he gives free-
dom to all prisoners. And I suppose a pretty boy
like you may go about your business, as well as
uglier rascals ! "
Philammon looked up in the jailer's face with a
dim, half-comprehension of his meaning.
"Do you hear?" cried the man, with a curse.
" You are free. Jump up, or I shut the door again,
and your one chance is over."
"Did she dance Venus Anadyomene?"
"She! Who?"
" My sister ! Pelagia ! "
" Heaven only knows what she has not danced in
in her time ! But they say she dances to-day once
more. Quick ! out, or I shall not be ready in time
for the sports. They begin an hour hence. Free
Pandemonium 1 27
admission into the theatre to-day for all rogues
and honest men, Christians and heathens Curse
the boy ! he 's as mad as ever."
So indeed Philammon seemed; for springing
suddenly to his feet, he rushed out past the jailer,
upsetting him into the corridor, and fled wildly
from the prison among the crowd of liberated ruf-
fians, ran from the prison home, from home to the
baths, from the baths to the theatre, and was soon
pushing his way, regardless of etiquette, towards
the lower tiers of benches, in order, he hardly
knew why, to place himself as near as possible to
the very sight which he dreaded and abhorred.
As fate would have it, the passage by which he
had entered opened close to the prefect's chair of
state, where sat Orestes, gorgeous in his robes of
office, and by him to Philammon's surprise and
horror Hypatia herself.
More beautiful than ever, her forehead sparkling,
like Juno's own, with *. lofty tiara of jewels, her
white Ionic robe half hidden by a crimson shawl,
there sat the vestal, the philosopher. What did
she there ? But the boy's eager eyes, accustomed
but too well to note every light and shade of feel-
ing which crossed that face, saw in a moment how
wan and haggard was its expression. She wore a
look of constraint, of half-terrified self-resolve, as
of a martyr: and yet not an undoubting martyr;
for as Orestes turned his head at the stir of
Philammon's intrusion, and flashing with anger
at the sight, motioned him fiercely back, Hypatia
turned too, and as her eyes met her pupil's,
she blushed crimson, and started, and seemed in
act to motion him back also ; and then, recollect-
ing herself, whispered something to Orestes which
128 Hypatia
quieted his wrath, and composed herself, or rather
sunk into her place again, as one who was deter-
mined to abide the worst.
A knot of gay young gentlemen, Philammon's
fellow-students, pulled him down among them, with
welcome and laughter ; and before he could collect
his thoughts, the curtain in front of the stage had
risen, and the sport began.
The scene represented a background of desert
mountains, and on the stage itself, before a group
of temporary huts, stood huddling together the
black Libyan prisoners, some fifty men, women,
and children, bedizened with gaudy feathers and
girdles of tasselled leather, brandishing their spears
and targets, and glaring out with white eyes on the
strange scene before them, in childish awe and
wonder.
Along the front of the stage a wattled battlement
had been erected, while below, the hyposcenium
had been painted to represent rocks, thus complet-
ing the rough imitation of a village among the
Libyan hills.
Amid breathless silence, a herald advanced, and
proclaimed that these were prisoners taken in arms
against the Roman senate and people, and there-
fore worthy of immediate death : but that the pre-
fect, in his exceeding clemency toward them, and
especial anxiety to afford the greatest possible
amusement to the obedient and loyal citizens of
Alexandria, had determined, instead of giving them
at once to the beasts, to allow them to fight for
their lives, promising to the survivors a free par-
don if they acquitted themselves valiantly.
The poor wretches on the stage, when this pro-
clamation was translated to them, set up a barbaric
Pandemonium 1 29
yell of joy, and brandished their spears and targets
more fiercely than ever.
But their joy was short. The trumpets sounded
the attack ; a body of gladiators, equal in number to
the savages, marched out from one of the two great
side-passages, made their obeisance to the applaud-
ing spectators, and planting their scaling-ladders
against the front of the stage, mounted to the attack.
The Libyans fought like tigers; yet from the
first Hypatia, and Philammon also, could see that
their promised chance of life was a mere mockery.
Their light darts and naked limbs were no match
for the heavy swords and complete armor of their
brutal assailants, who endured carelessly a storm
of blows and thrusts on heads and faces protected
by visored helmets : yet so fierce was the valor of
the Libyans, that even they recoiled twice, and
twice the scaling-ladders were hurled down again,
while more than one gladiator lay below, rolling in
the death-agony.
And then burst forth the sleeping devil in the
hearts of that great brutalized multitude. Yell
upon yell of savage triumph, and still more sav-
age disappointment, rang from every tier of that
vast ring of seats, at each blow and parry, on-
slaught and repulse; and Philammon saw with
horror, and surprise that luxury, refinement, phil-
osophic culture itself, were no safe-guards against
the infection of bloodthirstiness. Gay and deli-
cate ladies, whom he had seen a few days before
simpering delight at Hypatia's heavenward aspira-
tions, and some, too, whom he seemed to recol-
lect in Christian churches, sprang from their seats,
waved their hands and handkerchiefs, and clapped
and shouted to the gladiators. For, alas! there
130 Hypatia
was no doubt as to which side the favor of the
spectators inclined. With taunts, jeers, applause,
entreaties, the hired ruffians were urged on to
their work of blood. The poor wretches heard
no voice raised in their favor; nothing but con-
tempt, hatred, eager lust of blood, glared from
those thousands of pitiless eyes; and, broken-
hearted, despairing, they flagged and drew back
one by one. A shout of triumph greeted the glad-
iators as they climbed over the battlement, and
gained a footing on the stage. The wretched
blacks broke up, and fled wildly from corner to
corner, looking vainly for an outlet. . . .
And then began a butchery. . . . Some fifty
men, women, and children were cooped together
in that narrow space. . . . And yet Hypatia's coun-
tenance did not falter. Why should it? What
were their numbers, beside the thousands who had
perished year by year for centuries, by that and
far worse deaths, in the amphitheatres of that em-
pire, for that faith which she was vowed to re-estab-
lish. It was part of the great system; and she
must endure it.
Not that she did not feel ; for she, too, was wo-
man; and her heart, raised far above the brutal
excitement of the multitude, lay calmly open to
the most poignant stings of pity. Again and
again she was in the act to entreat mercy for
some shrieking woman or struggling child; but
before her lips could shape the words, the blow
had fallen, or the wretch was whirled away from
her sight in the dense undistinguishable mass of
slayers and slain. Yes, she had begun, and she
must follow to the end. . . . And, after all, what
were the lives of those few semi-brutes, returning
Pandemonium 131
thus a few years earlier to the clay from which
they sprang, compared with the regeneration of a
world? . . . And it would be over in a few min-
utes more, and that black writhing heap be still
for ever, and the curtain fall. . . . And then for
Venus Anadyomene, and art, and joy, and peace,
and the graceful wisdom and beauty of the old
Greek art, calming and civilizing all hearts, and
softening them into pure devotion for the immor-
tal myths, the immortal deities, who had inspired
their forefathers in the glorious days of old. . . .
But still the black heap writhed ; and she looked
away, up, down, and round, everywhere, to avoid
the sickening sight; and her eye caught Philam-
mon's gazing at her with looks of horror and dis-
gust. ... A thrill of shame rushed through her
heart, and blushing scarlet, she sank her head, and
whispered to Orestes :
" Have mercy ! spare the rest ! "
" Nay, fairest vestal ! The mob has tasted blood,
and they must have their fill of it, or they will turn
on us for aught I know. Nothing so dangerous as
to check a brute, whether he be horse, dog, or
man, when once his spirit is up. Ha ! there is a
fugitive ! How well the little rascal runs ! "
As he spoke, a boy, the only survivor, leaped
from the stage, and rushed across the orchestra
toward them, followed by a rough cur-dog.
" You shall have th : s youth, if he reaches us."
Hypatia watched breathless. The boy had just
arrived at the altar in the center of the orchestra,
when he saw a gladiator close upon him. The
ruffian's arm was raised to strike, when, to the
astonishment of the whole theatre, boy and dog
turned valiantly to bay, and leaping on the gladia-
132 Hypatia
tor, dragged him between them to the ground.
The triumph was momentary. The uplifted hands,
the shout of "Spare him!" came too late. The
man, as he lay, buried his sword in the slender
body of the child, and then rising, walked coolly
back to the side passengers, while the poor cur stood
over the little corpse, licking its hands and face,
and making the whole building ring with his dole-
ful cries. The attendants entered, and striking
their hooks into corpse after corpse, dragged them
out of sight, marking their path by long red fur-
rows in the sand; while the dog followed, until
his inauspicious howlings died away down distant
passages.
Philammon felt sick and giddy, and half rose to
escape. But Pelagia! . . No he must sit it
out, and see the worst, if worse than this was pos-
sible. He looked round. The people were coolly
sipping wine and eating cakes, while they chatted
admirably about the beauty of the great curtain,
which had fallen and hidden the stage, and repre-
sented, on a ground of deep-blue sea, Europa car-
ried by the bull across the Bosphorus, while Nereids
and Tritons played around.
A single flute within the curtain began to send
forth luscious strains, deadened and distant, as if
through far-off glens and woodlands ; and from the
side passages issued three Graces led by Peitho, the
goddess of persuasion, bearing a herald's staff in
her hand. She advanced to the altar in the center
of the orchestra, and informed the spectators that,
during the absence of Ares in aid of a certain great
military expedition, which was shortly to decide
the diadem of Rome, and the liberty, prosperity,
and supremacy of Egypt and Alexandria, Aphro-
Pandemonium 133
dite had returned to her lawful allegiance, and
submitted for the time being to the commands
of her husband, Hephaestus ; that he, as the deity of
artificers, felt a peculiar interest in the welfare of
the city of Alexandria, the workshop of the world,
and had, as a sign of his especial favor, prevailed
upon his fair spouse to exhibit, for this once, her
beauties to the assembled populace, and, in the un-
spoken poetry of motion, to represent to them the
emotions with which, as she arose new-born from
the sea, she first surveyed that fair expanse of
heaven and earth of which she now reigned undis-
puted queen.
A shout of rapturous applause greeted this an-
nouncement and forthwith limped from the oppo-
site slip the lame deity himself, hammer and pincers
on.shoulder, followed by a train of gigantic Cyclops,
who bore on their shoulders various pieces of gilded
metal work.
Hephaestus, who was intended to supply the
comic element in the vast pantomimic pageant,
shambled forward with studied uncouthness, amid
roars of laughter; surveyed the altar with ludi-
crous contempt; raised his mighty hammer, shiv-
ered it to pieces with a single blow, and beckoned
to his attendants to carry off the fragments, and
replace it with something more fitting for his
august spouse.
With wonderful quickness the metal open-work
was put in its place, and fitted together, forming a
frame of coral branches intermingled with dolphins,
Nereids, and Tritons. Four gigantic Cyclops then
approached, staggering under the weight of a cir-
cular slab of green marble, polished to a perfect
mirror, which they placed on the framework. The
134 Hypatia
Graces wreathed its circumference with garlands of
seaweed, shells, and corallines, and the mimic sea
was complete.
Peitho and the Graces retired a few steps, and
grouped themselves with the Cyclops, whose
grimed and brawny limbs, and hideous one-eyed
masks, threw out in striking contrast the delicate
hue and grace of the beautiful maiden figures;
while Hephaestus turned toward the curtain, and
seemed to await impatiently the forthcoming of
the goddess.
Every lip was breathless with expectation as the
flutes swelled louder and nearer ; horns and cym-
bals took up the harmony ; and, to a triumphant
burst of music, the curtain rose, and a-simultaneous
shout of delight burst from ten thousand voices.
The scene behind represented a magnificent
temple, half hidden in an artificial wood of tropic
trees and shrubs, which filled the stage. Fauns
and Dryads peeped laughing from among their
stems, and gorgeous birds, tethered by unseen
threads, fluttered and sang among their branches.
In the center an overarching avenue of palms led
from the temple doors to the front of the stage,
from which the mimic battlements had disappeared,
and had been replaced, in those few moments, by
a broad slope of smooth greensward, leading down
into the orchestra, and fringed with myrtles, roses,
apple-trees, poppies, and crimson hyacinths, stained
with the life-blood of Adonis.
The folding doors of the temple opened slowly ;
the crash of instruments resounded from within;
and, preceded by the musicians came forth the tri-
umph of Aphrodite, and passed down the slope,
and down the outer ring of the orchestra.
Pandemonium 135
A splendid car, drawn by white oxen, bore the
rarest and gaudiest of foreign flowers and fruits,
which young girls, dressed as Hours and Seasons,
strewed in front of the procession and among the
spectators.
A long line of beautiful youths and maidens,
crowned with garlands, and robed in scarfs of pur-
ple gauze, followed by two and two. Each pair
carried or led a pair of wild animals, captives of the
conquering might of Beauty.
Foremost were borne, on the wrists of the actors,
the birds especially sacred to the goddess doves
and sparrows, wrynecks and swallows ; and a pair
of gigantic Indian tortoises, each ridden by a lovely
nymph, showed that Orestes had not forgotten one
wish, at least of his intended bride.
Then followed strange birds from India, parra-
keets, peacocks/ pheasants silver and golden; bus-
tards and ostriches : the latter bestridden each by
a tiny cupid, were led on in golden leashes, fol-
lowed by antelopes and oryxes, elks from beyond
the Danube, four-horned rams from the Isles of the
Hyperborean Ocean, and the strange hybrid of
the Libyan hills, believed by all spectators to be
half-bull half-horse. And then a murmur of de-
lighted awe ran through the theatre, as bears and
leopards, lions and tigers, fettered in heavy chains
of gold, and made gentle for the occasion by nar-
cotics, paced sedately down the slope, obedient to
their beautiful guides; while behind them, the un-
wieldy bulk of two double-horned rhinoceroses,
from the far south, was over-topped by the long
slender necks and large soft eyes of a pair of
giraffes, such as had not been seen in Alexan-
dria for more than fifty years.
136 Hypatia
A cry arose of " Orestes ! Orestes ! Health to
the illustrious prefect ! Thanks for his bounty ! "
And a hired voice or two among the crowd cried,
" Hail to Orestes ! Hail, Emperor of Africa ! "
. . . But there was no response.
" The rose is still in the bud," simpered Orestes
to Hypatia. He rose, beckoned and bowed the
crowd into silence ; and then, after a short panto-
mimic exhibition of rapturous gratitude and humil-
ity, pointed triumphantly to the palm avenue,
among the shadows of which appeared the won-
der of the day the huge tusks and trunk of the
white elephant himself.
There it was at last ! Not a doubt of it ! A real
elephant, and yet as white as snow. Sight never
seen before in Alexandria never to be seen
again ! " Oh, thrice blest men of Macedonia ! "
shouted some worthy on high, " the gods are
bountiful to you this day ! " And all mouths
and eyes confirmed the opinion, as they opened
wider and yet wider to drink in the inexhaustible
joy and glory.
On he paced solemnly, while the whole theatre
resounded to his heavy tread, and the Fauns and
Dryads fled in terror. A choir of nymphs swung
round him hand in hand, and sang, as they danced
along, the conquering might of beauty, the tamer
of beasts and men and deities. Skirmishing par-
ties of little winged cupids spread themselves over
the orchestra, from left to right, and pelted the
spectators with perfumed comfits, shot among
them from their tiny bows arrows of fragrant
sandal wood, or swung smoking censers, which
loaded the air with intoxicating odors.
The procession came on down the slope, and the
Pandemonium 137
elephant approached the spectators ; his tusks were
wreathed with roses and myrtles; his ears were
pierced with splendid ear-rings, a jewelled frontlet
hung between his eyes; Eros himself, a lovely
winged boy, sat on his neck, and guided him with
the point of a golden arrow. But what precious
thing was it which that shell-formed car upon his
back contained ? The goddess ! Pelagia Aphro-
dite herself!
Yes; whiter than the snow-white elephant
more rosy than the pink-tipped shell in which she
lay, among crimson cushions and silver gauze,
there shone the goddess, thrilling all hearts with
those delicious smiles, and glances of the bashful
playful eyes and grateful wavings of her tiny hand,
as the whole theatre rose with one accord, and ten
thousand eyes were concentrated on the unequalled
loveliness beneath them.
Twice the procession passed round the whole
circumference of the orchestra, and then returning
from the foot of the slope towards the central
group around Hephaestus, deployed right and left
in front of the stage. The lions and tigers were
led away into the side passages ; the youths and
maidens combined themselves with the gentler
animals into groups lessening gradually from the
center to the wings, and stood expectant, while
the elephant came forward, and knelt behind the
platform destined for the goddess.
The valves of the shell closed. The Graces un-
loosed the fastenings of the car. The elephant
turned his trunk over his back, and guided by the
hands of the girls, grasped the shell, and lifting it
high in air, deposited it on the steps at the back of
the platform.
138 Hypatia
Hephaestus limped forward, and with his most
uncouth gestures, signified the delight which he
had in bestowing such a sight upon his faithful
artisans of Alexandria, and the unspeakable enjoy-
ment which they were to expect from the mystic
dance of the goddess; and then retired, leaving
the Graces to advance in front of the platform,
and with their arms twined round each other,
begin Hypatia's song of invocation.
As the first strophe died away, the valves of the
shell reopened, and discovered Aphrodite crouch-
ing on one knee within. She raised her head, and
gazed around the vast circle of seats. A mild
surprise was on her countenance, which quickened
into delighted wonder, and bashfulness struggling
with the sense of new enjoyment and new powers.
She glanced downward at herself; and smiled,
astonished at her own loveliness; then upward at
the sky; and seemed ready, with an awful joy, to
spring up into the boundless void. Her whole
figure dilated; she seemed to drink in strength
from every object which met her in the great uni-
verse around ; and slowly, from among the shells
and seaweeds, she rose to her full height, the
mystic cestus glittering round her waist, in deep
festoons of emeralds and pearls, and stepped for-
ward upon the marble sea-floor, wringing the drip-
ping perfume from her locks, as Aphrodite rose
of old.
For the first minute the crowd was too breath-
less with pleasure to think of applause. But the
goddess seemed to require due homage ; and when
she folded her arms across her bosom, and stood
motionless for an instant, as if to demand the
worship of the universe, every tongue was loosed,
Pandemonium 139
and a thunder-clap of " Aphrodite ! " rung out
across the roofs of Alexandria, and startled Cyril
in his chamber at the Serapeium, and weary mule-
teers on distant sandhills, and dozing mariners far
out at sea.
And then began a miracle of art, such as was
only possible among a people of the free and
exquisite physical training, and the delicate aes-
thetic perception of those old Greeks, even in their
most fallen days. A dance, in which every motion
was a word, and rest as eloquent as motion; in
which every attitude was a fresh motive for a
sculptor of the purest school, and the highest
physical activity was manifested, not as in the
coarser comic pantomimes, in fantastic bounds and
unnatural distortions, but in perpetual delicate
modulations of a stately and self-restraining grace.
The artist was for the moment transformed into
the goddess. The theatre, and Alexandria, and
the gorgeous pageant beyond, had vanished from
her imagination, and therefore from the imagi-
nation of the spectators, under the constraining
inspiration of her art, and they and she alike saw
nothing but the lonely sea around Cythera, and the
goddess hovering above its emerald mirror, raying
forth on sea, and air, and shore, beauty, and joy,
and love. . . .
Philammon's eyes were bursting from his head
with shame and horror : and yet he could not hate
her ; not even despise her. He would have done
so, had there been the faintest trace of human
feeling in her countenance, to prove that some
germ of moral sense lingered within : but even the
faint blush and the downcast eye with which she
had entered the theatre, were gone ; and the only
Vol. 7-7
1 40 Hypatia
expression on her face was that of intense enjoy-
ment of her own activity and skill, and satisfied
vanity, as of a petted child. . . . Was she account-
able? A reasonable soul, capable of right or
wrong at all? He hoped not. . . . He would
trust not. . . . And still Pelagia danced on ; and
for a whole age of agony, he could see nothing in
heaven or earth but the bewildering maze of those
white feet, as they twinkled over their white image
in the marble mirror. ... At last it was over.
Every limb suddenly collapsed, and she stood
drooping in soft self-satisfied fatigue, awaiting the
burst of applause which rang through Philam-
mon's ears, proclaiming to heaven and earth, as
with a mighty trumpet-blast, his sister's shame.
The elephant rose, and moved forward to the
side of the slab. His back was covered with
crimson cushions, on which it seemed Aphrodite
was to return without her shell. She folded her
arms across her bosom, and stood smiling, as the
elephant gently wreathed his trunk around her
waist, and lifted her slowly from the slab, in act
to place her on his back. . . .
The little feet, clinging half fearfully together,
had just risen from the marble The elephant
started, dropped his delicate burden heavily on the
slab, looked down, raised his forefoot, and throw-
ing his trunk into the air, gave a shrill scream of
terror and disgust. . . .
The foot was red with blood the young boy's
blood which was soaking and bubbling up
through the fresh sand where the elephant had
trodden, in a round, dark, purple spot. . . .
Philammon could bear no more. Another mo-
ment and he had hurled down through the dense
Pandemonium 141
mass of spectators, clearing rank after rank of seats
by the sheer strength of madness, leaped the bal-
ustrade into the orchestra below, and rushed across
the space to the foot of the platform.
" Pelagia ! Sister ! My sister ! Have mercy
on me ! on yourself! I will hide you ! save you 1
and we will flee together out of this infernal place !
this world of devils ! I am your brother ! Come ! "
She looked at him one moment with wide, wild
eyes The truth flashed on her
" Brother ! "
And she sprang from the platform into his arms.
... A vision of a lofty window in Athens, looking
out over far olive-yards and gardens, and the bright
roofs and basins of the Piraeus, and the broad blue
sea, with the purple peaks of ^Egina beyond all.
. . . And a dark-eyed boy, with his arm around
her neck, pointed laughing to the twinkling masts
in the far harbor, and called his sister. . . . The
dead soul woke within her ; and with a wild cry
she recoiled from him in an agony of shame, and
covering her face with both her hands, sank down
among the blood-stained sand.
A yell, as of all hell broke loose, rang along that
vast circle :
"Down with him!" "Away with him!"
" Crucify the slave ! " " Give the barbarian to
the beasts?" "To the beasts with him, noble
prefect ! " A crowd of attendants rushed upon
him, and many of the spectators sprang from
their seats, and were on the point of leaping
down into the orchestra.
Philammon turned upon them like a lion at bay ;
and clear and loud his voice rose through the roar
of the multitude:
142 Hypatia
"Ay! murder me as the Romans murdered
Saint Telemachus ! Slaves as besotted and ac-
cursed as your besotted and accursed tyrants !
Lower than the beasts whom you employ as your
butchers ! Murder and lust go fitly hand in hand,
and the throne of my sister's shame is well built on
the blood of innocents ! Let my death end the
devil's sacrifice, and fill up the cup of your
iniquity ! "
" To the beasts ! " " Make the elephant trample
him to powder ! "
And the huge brute, goaded on by the attend-
ants, rushed on the youth, while Eros leaped from
his neck, and fled weeping up the slope.
He caught Philammon in his trunk and raised
him high in air. For an instant the great bellow-
ing ocean of heads spun round and round. He
tried to breathe one prayer, and shut his eyes
Pelagia's voice rang sweet and clear, even in the
shrillness of intense agony :
" Spare him ! He is my brother ! Forgive him,
men of Macedonia! For Pelagia's sake your
Pelagia ! One boon only this one ! "
And she stretched her arms imploringly toward
the spectators, and then clasping the huge knees
of the elephant, called madly to it in terms of pas-
sionate entreaty and endearment.
The men wavered. The brute did not. Quietly
he lowered his trunk, and set down Philammon on
his feet. The monk was saved. Breathless and
dizzy, he found himself hurried away by the at-
tendants, dragged through dark passages, and
hurled out into the street, with curses, warnings,
and congratulations, which fell on an unheeding ear.
But Pelagia kept her face still hidden in her
Pandemonium 143
hands, and rising, walked slowly back, crushed by
the weight of some tremendous awe, across the
orchestra, and up the slope ; and vanished among
the palms and oleanders, regardless of the applause
and entreaties, and jeers, and threats, and curses,
of that great multitude of sinful slaves.
For a moment all Orestes's spells seemed broken
by this unexpected catastrophe. A cloud, whether
of disgust or of disappointment, hung upon every
brow. More than one Christian rose hastily to
depart, touched with real remorse and shame at
the horrors of which they had been the willing
witnesses. The common people behind, having
glutted their curiosity with all that there was to see,
began openly to murmur at the cruelty and heath-
enry of it. Hypatia, utterly unnerved, hid her face
in both her hands. Orestes alone rose with the
crisis. Now, or never, was the time for action ; and
stepping forward, with his most graceful obeisance,
waved his hand for silence, and began his well-
studied oration.
" Let me not, O men of Macedonia, suppose
that you can be disturbed from that equanimity
which befits politicians, by so light an accident as
the caprice of a dancer. The spectacle which I
have had the honor and delight of exhibiting to
you [Roars and applause from the liberated
prisoners and the young gentlemen] and on
which it seemed to me you have deigned to
look with not altogether unkindly eyes [Fresh
applause, in which the Christian mob, relenting,
began to join] is but a pleasant prelude to that
more serious business for which I have drawn you
here together. Other testimonials of my good in-
tentions have not been wanting in the release of
144 Hypatia
suffering innocence, and in the largess of food, the
growth and natural property of Egypt, destined by
your late tyrants to pamper the luxury of a distant
court. . . . Why should I boast? yet even now
this head is weary, these limbs fail me, worn out
in ceaseless efforts for your welfare, and in the per-
petual administration of the strictest justice. For
a time has come in which the Macedonian race,
whose boast is the gorgeous city of Alexander,
must rise again to the political pre-eminence which
they held of old, and becoming once more the mas-
ters of one-third of the universe, be treated by their
rulers as freemen, citizens, heroes, who have a right
to choose and to employ their rulers rulers, did
I say? Let us forget the word, and substitute in
its place the more philosophic term of ministers.
To be your minister the servant of you all to
sacrifice myself, my leisure, health, life, if need be,
to the one great object of securing the indepen-
dence of Alexandria. This is my work, my hope,
my glory longed for through weary years ; now
for the first time possible by the fall of the late
puppet Emperor of Rome. Men of Macedonia,
remember that Honorius reigns no more! An
African sits on the throne of the Caesars ! Herac-
lian, by one decisive victory, has gained, by the
favor of of Heaven, the imperial purple; and a
new era opens for the world. Let the conqueror
of Rome balance his account with that Byzantine
court, so long the incubus of our Trans-Mediter-
ranean wealth and civilization ; and let a free, in-
dependent, and united Africa rally round the
palaces and docks of Alexandria, and find there
its natural center of polity and of prosperity."
A roar of hired applause interrupted him : and
Pandemonium 145
not a few, half for the sake of his compliments and
fine words, half from a natural wish to be on the
right side namely, the one which happened to be
in the ascendant for the time being joined. . . .
The city authorities were on the point of crying,
" Imperator Orestes : " but thought better of it ;
and waited for some one else to cry first being
respectable. Whereon the prefect of the guards,
being a man of some presence of mind, and also
not in anywise respectable, pricked up the prefect
of the docks with the point of his dagger, and bade
him with a fearful threat, take care how he played
traitor. The worthy burgher roared incontinently
whether with pain or patriotism; and the whole
array of respectabilities having found a Curtius
who would leap into the gulf, joined in unanimous
chorus, and saluted Orestes as emperor; while
Hypatia, amid the shouts of her aristocratic schol-
ars, rose and knelt before him, writhing inwardly
with shame and despair, and entreated him to
accept that tutelage of Greek commerce, suprem-
acy, and philosophy which was forced on him by
the unanimous voice of an adoring people. . . .
" It is false ! " shouted a voice from the highest
tiers, appropriated to the women of the lower
classes, which made all turn their heads in bewil-
derment.
".False ! false ! You are tricked ! He is tricked !
Heraclian was utterly routed at Ostia, and is fled
to Carthage, with the emperor's fleet in chase."
" She lies ! Drag the beast down ! " cried Ores-
tes, utterly thrown off his balance by the sudden
check.
" She ? He ! I, a monk, brought the news !
Cyril has known it every Jew in the Delta has
1 46 Hypatia
known it, for a week past \ So perish all the ene-
mies of the Lord, caught in their own snare ! "
And bursting desperately through the women
who surrounded him, the monk vanished.
An awful silence fell on all who heard. For a
minute every man looked in his neighbor's face as
if he longed to cut his throat, and get rid of one
witness, at least, of his treason. And then arose a
tumult, which Orestes in vain attempted to sub-
due. Whether the populace believed the monk's
words or not, they were panic-stricken at the mere
possibility of their truth. Hoarse with denying,
protesting, appealing, the would-be emperor had
at last to summon his guards around him and
Hypatia, and make his way out of the theatre as
best he could; while the multitude melted away
like snow before the rain, and poured out into the
streets in eddying and roaring streams, to find
every church placarded by Cyril with the particu-
lars of Heraclian's ruin.
CHAPTER XXin
NEMESIS
THAT evening was a hideous one in the palace
of Orestes. His agonies of disappointment,
rage, and terror were at once so shameful and so
fearful, that none of his slaves dare approach him ;
and it was not till late that his confidential secre-
tary, the Chaldean eunuch, driven by terror of the
exasperated Catholics, ventured into the tiger's
den, and represented to him the immediate neces-
sity for action.
What could he do? He was committed Cyril
only knew how deeply. What might not the wily
archbishop have discovered ? What might not he
pretend to have discovered? What accusations
might he not send off on the spot to the Byzantine
Court.
" Let the gates be guarded, and no one allowed
to leave the city," suggested the Chaldee.
" Keep in monks ? As well keep in rats ! No ;
we must send off a counter-report, instantly."
"What shall I say, your excellency?" quoth
the ready scribe, pulling out pen and inkhorn from
his sash.
" What do I care ? Any lie which comes to hand.
What in the devil's name are you here for at all,
but to invent a lie when I want one? "
"True, most noble," and the worthy sat meekly
down to his paper . . . but did not proceed rapidly.
148 Hypatia
" I don't see anything that would suit the emer-
gency, unless I stated, with your august leave, that
Cyril, and not you, celebrated the gladiatorial ex-
hibition; which might hardly appear credible?"
Orestes burst out laughing, in spite of himself.
The sleek Chaldee smiled and purred in return.
The victory was won ; and Orestes, somewhat more
master of himself, began to turn his vulpine cun-
ning to the one absorbing question of the saving
of his worthless neck.
" No, that would be too good. Write, that we
had discovered a plot on Cyril's part to incorporate
the whole of the African churches (mind and spec-
ify Carthage and Hippo) under his own jurisdic-
tion, and to throw off allegiance to the patriarch of
Constantinople, in case of Heraclian's success."
The secretary purred delighted approval, and
scribbled away now with right good heart.
" ' Heraclian's success,' your excellency."
" We of course desired, by every means in our
power, to gratify the people of Alexandria, and, as
was our duty, to excite by every lawful method
their loyalty toward the throne of the Caesars (never
mind who sat on it) at so critical a moment."
" ' So critical a moment.' "...
" But as faithful Catholics, and abhorring, even in
the extremest need, the sin of Uzzah, we dreaded
to touch with the unsanctified hands of laymen the
consecrated ark of the Church, even though for its
preservation." . . .
" ' Its preservation, your excellency.' "...
* We, therefore, as civil magistrates, felt bound
to confine ourselves to those means which were
already allowed by law and custom to our juris-
diction ; and accordingly made use of those larg-
Nemesis 149
esses, spectacles, and public execution of rebels,
which have unhappily appeared to his holiness the
patriarch (too ready, perhaps, to find a cause of
complaint against faithful adherents of the Byzan-
tine See) to partake of the nature of those gladia-
torial exhibitions, which are equally abhorrent to
the spirit of the Catholic Church, and to the char-
ity of the sainted emperors by whose pious edicts
they have been long since abolished."
" Your excellency is indeed great . . . but
pardon your slave's remark my simplicity is of
opinion that it may be asked why you did not in-
form the Augusta Pulcheria of Cyril's conspiracy? "
" Say that we sent a messenger off three months
ago, but that. . . . Make something happen to him,
stupid, and save me the trouble."
" Shall I kill him by Arabs in the neighborhood
of Palmyra, your excellency? "
" Let me see. . . . No. They may make inquiries
there. Drown him at sea. Nobody can ask ques-
tions of the sharks."
" Foundered between Tyre and Crete, from which
sad calamity only one man escaped on a raft, and
being picked up, after three weeks' exposure to
the fury of the elements, by a returning wheat-
ship By the by, most noble, what am I to say
about those wheat-ships not having even sailed ? "
" Head of Augustus ! I forgot them utterly.
Say that say that the plague was making such
ravages in the harbor quarter that we feared carry-
ing the infection to the seat of the empire ; and let
them sail to-morrow."
The secretary's face lengthened.
" My fidelity is compelled to remark, even at the
risk of your just indignation, that half of them have
150 Hypatia
been unloaded again for your munificent largesses
of the last two days."
Orestes swore a great oath.
" Oh, that the mob had but one throat, that I
might give them an emetic ! Well, we must buy
more corn, that 's all."
The secretary's face grew longer still.
" The Jews, most august "
"What of them?" yelled the hapless prefect.
" Have they been forestalling?"
" My assiduity has discovered this afternoon that
they have been buying up and exporting all the
provisions which they could obtain."
" Scoundrels ! Then they must have known of
Heraclian's failure ! "
"Your sagacity has, I fear, divined the truth.
They have been betting largely against his success
for the last week, both in Canopus and Pelusium."
" For the last week ! Then Miriam betrayed me
knowingly ! " And Orestes broke forth again into
a paroxysm of fury.
" Here call the tribune of the guard ! A hun-
dred gold pieces to the man who brings me the
witch alive ! "
" She will never be taken alive."
" Dead, then in any way ! Go, you Chaldee
hound ! what are you hesitating about?"
" Most noble lord," said the secretary, prostrat-
ing himself upon the floor, and kissing his master's
feet in an agony of fear. ..." Remember, that if
you touch one Jew you touch all ! Remember
the bonds ! remember the the your own most
august reputation, in short."
" Get up, brute, and don't grovel there, but tell
me what you mean, like a human being. If old
Nemesis 151
Miriam is once dead, her bonds die with her, don't
they?"
" Alas, ray lord, you do not know the customs of
that accursed folk. They have a damnable prac-
tice of treating every member of their nation as a
brother, and helping each freely and faithfully with-
out reward ; whereby they are enabled to plunder
all the rest of the world, and thrive themselves,
from the least to the greatest. Don't fancy that
your bonds are in Miriam's hands. They have
been transferred months ago. Your real creditors
may be in Carthage, or Rome, or Byzantium, and
they will attack you irom thence; while all that
you would find if you seized the old witch's prop-
erty, would be papers, useless to you, belonging
to Jews all over the empire, who would rise as one
man in defence of their money. I assure you, it
is a net without a bound. If you touch one you
touch all. . . . And besides, my diligence, expect-
ing some such command, has already taken the
liberty of making inquiries as to Miriam's place of
abode ; but it appears, I am sorry to say, utterly
unknown to any of your excellency's servants."
" You lie ! " said Orestes. ..." I would much
sooner believe that you have been warning the hag
to keep out of the way."
Orestes had spoken, for that once in his life, the
exact truth.
The secretary, who had his own private dealings
with Miriam, felt every particular atom of his skin
shudder at those words ; and had he had hair on
his head, it would certainly have betrayed him by
standing visibly on end. But as he was, luckily
for him, close shaven, his turban remained in its
proper place, as he meekly replied :
152 Hypatia
" Alas ! a faithful servant can feel no keener
woe than the causeless suspicion of that sun before
whose rays he daily prostrates his "
" Confound your periphrases ! Do you know
where she is ? "
" No ! " cried the wretched secretary, driven to
the lie direct at last; and confirmed the negation
with such a string of oaths, that Orestes stopped
his volubility with a kick, borrowed of him, under
threat of torture, a thousand gold pieces as largess
to the soldiery, and ended by concentrating the
stationaries round his own palace, for the double
purpose of protecting himself in case of a riot, and
of increasing the chances of the said riot, by leav-
ing the distant quarters of the city without police.
" If Cyril would but make a fool of himself, now
that he is in the fll-blown pride of victory the
rascal ! about that Ammonius, or about Hypatia,
or anything else, and give me a real handle against
him ! After all, truth works better than lying now
and then. Oh, that I could poison him ! But
one can't bribe those ecclesiastics ; and as for the
dagger, one could not hire a man to be torn in
pieces by m^nks. No; I must just sit still, and
see what Fortune's dice may turn up. Well ; your
pedants like Aristides or Epaminondas thank
Heaven, the race of them has died out long
ago ! might call this no very creditable piece of
provincial legislation ; but, after all, it is about as
good as any now going, or likely to be going till
the world's end; and one can't be expected to
strike out a new path. I shall stick to the wisdom
of my predecessors, and oh, that Cyril may
make a fool of himself to-night ! "
And Cyril did make a fool of himself that night,
Nemesis 153
for the first and last time in his life ; and suffers
for it, as wise men are wont to do when they
err, to this very day and hour: but how much
Orestes gained by his foe's false move cannot
be decided till the end of this story ; perhaps not
even then*
CHAPTER XXIV
LOST LAMBS
AND Philammon?
For a long while he stood in the street out-
side the theatre, too much maddened to determine
on any course of action; and, ere he had recov-
ered his self-possession, the crowd began to pour
from every outlet, and filling the street, swept him
away in its stream.
Then, as he heard his sister's name, in every
tone of pity, contempt, and horror mingle with
their angry exclamations, he awoke from his dream,
and, bursting through the mob, made straight for
Pelagia's house.
It was fast closed ; and his repeated knocks at
the gate brought only, after long waiting, a surly
negro face to a little wicket.
He asked eagerly and instinctively for Pelagia :
of course she had not yet returned. For Wulf :
he was not within. And then he took his station
close to the gateway, while his heart beat loud
with hope and dread.
At last the Goths appeared, forcing their way
through the mob in a close column. There were
no litters with them. Where, then, were Pelagia
and her girls? Where, too, was the hated figure
of the Amal ? and Wulf, and Smid ? The men came
on, led by Goderic and Agilmund, with folded
arms, knitted brows, downcast eyes; a stern dis-
Lost Lambs 155
gust, not unmingled with shame, on every coun-
tenance, told Philammon afresh of his sister's
infamy.
Goderic passed him close, and Philammon sum-
moned up courage to ask for Wulf . . . Pelagia
he had not courage to name.
" Out, Greek hound ! we have seen enough of
your accursed race to-day! What? are you try;-
ing to follow us in ? " And the young man's sword
flashed from its sheath so swiftly, that Philammon
had but just time enough to spring back into the
street, and wait there, in an agony of disappoint-
ment and anxiety, as the gates slid together again,
and the house was as silent as before.
For a miserable hour he waited, while the mob
thickened instead of flowing away, and the scat-
tered groups of chatterers began to form them-
selves into masses, and parade the streets with
shouts of " Down with the heathen t " " Down
with the idolaters ! " " Vengeance on all blasphem-
ing harlots ! "
At last the steady tramp of legionaries, and in
the midst of the glittering lines of armed men
oh, joy ! a string of litters !
He sprang forward, and called Pelagia's name
again and again. Once he fancied he heard an
answer: but the soldiers thrust him back.
" She is safe here, young fool, and has seen and
been seen quite enough to-day already. Back ! "
" Let me speak to her ! "
" That is her business. Ours is now to see her
home safe."
" Let me go in with you, I beseech ! "
" If you want to go in, knock for yourself when
we are gone. If you have any business in the
156 Hypatia
house, they will open to you, I suppose. Out,
you interfering puppy ! "
And a blow of the spear-butt in his chest sent
him rolling back into the middle of the street,
while the soldiers, having delivered up their charge,
returned with the same stolid indifference. In
vain Philammon, returning, knocked at the gate.
Curses and threats from the negro were all the
answer which he received; and at last, wearied
into desperation, he wandered away, up one street
and down another, struggling in vain to form some
plan of action for himself, until the sun was set.
Wearily he went homewards at last. Once the
thought of Miriam crossed his mind. It was a
disgusting alternative to ask help of her, the very
author of his sister's shame : but yet she at least
could obtain for him a sight of Pelagia ; she had
promised as much. But then the condition
which she had appended to her help ! To see his
sister, and yet to leave her as she was ! Horrible
contradiction ! But could he not employ Miriam
for his own ends? outwit her? deceive her?
for it came to that. The temptation was intense :
but it lasted only a moment. Could he defile so
pure a cause by falsehood? And hurrying past
the Jewess's door, hardly daring to look at it, lest
the temptation should return, he darted upstairs
to his own little chamber, hastily flung open the
door, and stopped short in astonishment.
A woman covered from head to foot in a large
dark veil, stood in the center of the chamber.
" Who are 'you ? This is no place for you ! "
cried he, after a minute's pause. . . . She replied
only by a shudder and a sob. . . . He caught
sight, beneath the folds of the veil, of a too-well-
Lost Lambs 157
known saffron shawl, and springing upon her like
the lion on the lamb, clasped to his bosom his
sister. .
The veil fell from her beautiful forehead. She
gazed into his eyes one moment with a look of
terrified inquiry, and saw nothing there but
love. . . . And clinging heart to heart, brother
and sister mingled holy kisses, and strained nearer
and nearer still, as if to satisfy their last lingering
doubts of each other's kin.
Many a minute passed in silent joy. . . . Phil-
ammon dare not speak ; he dare not ask her what
brought her thither dare not wake her to recol-
lect the frightful present by questions of the past,
of his long-forgotten parents, their home, her his-
tory. . . . And, 'after all, was it not enough for
him that he held her at last? her, there by her
own will the lost lamb returned to him? and
their tears mingled as their cheeks were pressed
together.
At last she spoke.
" I ought to have known you, I believe I did
know you from the first day ! When they men-
tioned your likeness to me, my heart leapt up
within me; and a voice whispered . . . but I
would not hear it ! I was ashamed ashamed to
acknowledge my brother, for whom I had sought
and longed for years . . . ashamed to think that I
had a brother. . . . Ah, God ! and ought I not to
be ashamed ? "
And she broke from him again, and threw her-
self on the floor.
" Trample upon me ; curse me ! anything but
part me from him ! "
Philammon had not the heart to answer her;
158 Hypatia
but he made an involuntary gesture of sorrowful
dissent.
" No ! Call me what I am ! what he called
me just now ! but do not take me away ! Strike
me, as he struck me ! anything but parting ! "
" Struck you ? The curse of God be on him ! "
" Ah, do not curse him ! not him ! It was
not a blow, indeed! only a push a touch
and it was my fault all mine. I angered him
I upbraided him ; I was mad. . . . Oh, why
did he deceive me? Why did he let me dance?
command me to dance? "
" Command you ? "
" He said, that we must not break our words.
He would not hear me, when I told him that we
could deny having promised. I said that prom-
ises made over the wine need never be kept. . . .
Who ever heard of keeping them? And Orestes
was drunk, too. But he said that I might teach a
Goth to be what I liked, except a liar. . . . Was
not that a strange speech? . . . And Wulf bade
him be strong, and blest him for it. "
" He was right," sobbed Philammon.
" Then I thought he would love me for obey-
ing him, though I loathed it ! Oh, God, how I
loathed it! ... But how could I fancy that he
did not like my doing it? Who ever heard of any
one doing of their own will what they did not
like?"
Philammon sobbed again, as the poor civilized
savage artlessly opened to him all her moral dark-
ness. What could he say ? . . . He knew what to
say. The disease was so utterly patent, that any
of Cyril's school-children could have supplied the
remedy. But how to speak it? how to tell her,
Lost Lambs 159
before all things, as he longed to do, that there
was no hope of her marrying the Amal, and, there-
fore, no peace for her till she left him?
" Then you did hate the the " said he, at
last, catching at some gleam of light.
" Hate it? Do I not belong, body and soul, to
him? him only? . . . And yet. . . . Oh, I must
tell you all ! When I and the girls began to prac-
tise, all the old feelings came back the love of
being admired, and applauded, and cheered ; and
dancing is so delicious ! so delicious to feel that
you are doing anything beautiful perfectly, and
better than every one else ! . . . And he saw
that I liked it, and despised me for it. ... And,
deceitful ! he little guessed how much of the
pains which I took were taken to please him, to
do my best before him, to win admiration, only
that I might take it home and throw it all at his
beloved feet, and make the world say once more,
' She has all Alexandria to worship her, and yet
she cares for that one Goth more than for .'
But he deceived me, true man that he is ! He
wished to enjoy my smiles to the last moment, and
then to cast me off, when I had once given him an
excuse. . . . Too cowardly to upbraid me, he
let me ruin myself, to save him the trouble of ruin-
ing me. Oh, men, men ! all alike ! They love us
for their own sakes, and we love them for love's
sake. We live by love, we die for love, and yet
we never find it, but only selfishness dressed up in
love's mask. . . . And then we take up with that,
poor, fond, self-blinded creatures that we are !
and in spite of the poisoned hearts around us, per-
suade ourselves that our latest asp's egg, at least,
will hatch into a dove, and that though all men are
160 Hypatia
faithless, our own tyrant can never change, for he
is more than man ! "
" But he has deceived you ! You have found out
your mistake. Leave him, then, as he deserves ! "
Pelagia looked up, with something of a tender
smile. "Poor darling! Little do you know of
love!"
Philammon, utterly bewildered by this newest
and strangest phase of human passion, could only
gasp out :
"But do you not love me, too, my sister?"
"Do I not love you! But not as I love him!
Oh, hush, hush ! you cannot understand yet ! "
And Pelagia hid her face in her hands, while con-
vulsive shudderings ran through every limb. . . .
" I must do it ! I must ! I will dare every-
thing, stoop to everything, for love's sake ! Go to
her ! to the wise woman ! to Hypatia ! She
loves you ! I know that she loves you ! She will
hear you, though she will not me ! "
" Hypatia? Do you know that she was sitting
there unmoved at in the theatre ? "
" She was forced ! Orestes compelled her ! Mir-
iam told me so. And I saw it in her face. As I
passed beneath her, I looked up; and she was
as pale as ivory, trembling in every limb. There
was a dark hollow round her eyes she had been
weeping, I saw. And I sneered in my mad self-
conceit, and said, ' She looks as if she was going
to be crucified, not married ! ' . . . But now, now !
Oh, go to her ! Tell her that I will give her all
I have jewels, money, dresses, house ! Tell her
that I I entreat her pardon, that I will crawl
to her feet myself and ask it, if she requires !
Only let her teach me teach me to be wise and
Lost Lambs 161
good, and honored, and respected, as she is ! Ask
her to tell a poor broken-hearted woman her secret
She can make old Wulf, and him, and Orestes even,
and the magistrates, respect her. . . . Ask her
to teach me how to be like her, and to make him
respect me again, and I will give her all all ! "
Philammon hesitated. Something within warned
him, as the Daemon used to warn Socrates, that
his errand would be bootless. He thought of the
theatre, and of that firm, compressed lip ; and for-
got the hollow eye of misery which accompanied
it, in his wrath against his lately-worshipped idol.
" Oh, go ! go ! I tell you it was against her will.
She felt for me I saw it Oh, God ! when I
did not feel for myself! And I hated her, because
she seemed to despise me in my fool's triumph !
She cannot despise me now in my misery. . . .
Go ! Go ! or you will drive me to the agony of
going myself."
There was but one thing to be done.
" You will wait, then, here ? You will not leave
me again ? "
" Yes. But you must be quick ! If he finds out
that I am away, he may fancy. . . . Ah, heaven !
let him kill me, but never let him be jealous of me !
Go now ! this moment ! Take this as an earnest
the cestus which I wore there. Horrid thing ! I
hate the sight of it ! But I brought it with me on
purpose, or I would have thrown it into the canal.
There ; say it is an earnest only an earnest of
what I will give her ! "
In ten minutes more Philammon was in Hypatia's
hall. The household seemed full of terror and dis-
turbance ; the hall was full of soldiers. At last
Hypatia's favorite maid passed, and knew him.
1 62 Hypatia
Her mistress could not speak with any one. Where
was Theon, then ? He, too, had shut himself up.
Never mind. Philammon must, would speak with
him. And he pleade.d so passionately and so
sweetly that the soft-hearted damsel, unable to re-
sist so handsome a suppliant, undertook his errand,
and led him up to the library, where Theon, pale
as death, was pacing to and fro, apparently half
beside himself with terror.
Philammon's breathless message fell at first upon
unheeding ears.
"A new pupil, sir! Is this a time for pupils;
when my house, my daughter's life, is not safe?
Wretch that I am ! And have I led her into the
snare ? I, with my vain ambition and covetousness !
Oh, my child ! my child ! my one treasure ! Oh,
the double curse which will light upon me, if "
" She asks for but one interview."
"With my daughter, sir? Pelagia! Will you
insult me? Do you suppose, even if her own pity
should so far tempt her to degrade herself, that I
could allow her so to contaminate her purity?"
" Your terror, sir, excuses your rudeness."
" Rudeness, sir? the rudeness lies in your intrud-
ing on us at such a moment ! "
" Then this, perhaps, may, in your eyes at least,
excuse me in my turn." And Philammon held out
the cestus. "You are a better judge of its value
than I. But I am commissioned to say, that it is
only an earnest of what she will give willingly and
at once, even to the half of her wealth, for the
honor of becoming your daughter's pupiL" And
he laid the jewelled girdle on the table.
The old man halted in his walk. The emeralds
and pearls shone like the galaxy. He looked at
Lost Lambs 163
them; and walked on again more slowly. . . .
What might be their value? What might it not
be? At least, they would pay all his debts. . . .
And after hovering to and fro for another minute
before the bait, he turned to Philammon. "If you
would promise to mention the thing to no one "
" I will promise."
" And in case my daughter, as I have a right to
expect, shall refuse "
" Let her keep the jewels. Their owner has
learnt, thank God, to despise and hate them!
Let her keep the jewels and my curse ! For
God do so to me, and more also, if I ever see her
face again ! "
The old man had not heard the latter part of
Philammon's speech. He had seized his bait as
greedily as a crocodile, and hurried off with it
into Hypatia's chamber, while Philammon stood
expectant; possessed with a new and fearful
doubt. " Degrade herself? " " Contaminate her
purity ! " If that notion were to be the fruit of
all her philosophy? If selfishness, pride, pharisa'
ism, were all its outcome ? Why had they not
been its outcome already? When had he seen
her helping, even pitying, the poor, the outcast?
When had he heard from her one word of real
sympathy for the sorrowing ; for the sinful ? . . .
He was still lost in thought when Theon re-entered,
bringing a letter.
"From Hypatia to her well-beloved pupil.
" I pity you how should I not ? And more, I thank
you for this your request, for it shows me that my unwill-
ing presence at the hideous pageant of to-day has not
alienated from me a soul of which I had cherished the
Vol. 78
1 64 Hypatia
noblest hopes, for which I had sketched out the loftiest
destiny. But how shall I say it? Ask yourself whether
a change apparently impossible must not take place
in her for whom you plead, before she and I can meet?
I am not so inhuman as to blame you for having asked
me; I do not even blame her for being what she is.
She does but follow her nature ; who can be angry with
her, if destiny have informed so fair an animal with a too
gross and earthly spirit? Why weep over her? Dust
she is, and unto dust she will return : while you, to whom
a more divine spark was allotted at your birth, must rise,
and unrepining, leave below you one only connected with
you by the unreal and fleeting bonds of fleshly kin."
Philammon crushed the letter together in his
hand, and strode from the house without a word.
The philosopher had no gospel, then, for the
harlot ! No word for the sinner, the degraded !
Destiny forsooth ! She was to follow her destiny,
and be base, miserable, self-condemned. She was
to crush the voice of conscience and reason, as
often as it awoke within her, and compel herself
to believe that she was bound to be that which she
knew herself bound not to be. She was to shut
her eyes to that present palpable misery which
was preaching to her, with the voice of God him-
self, that the wages of sin is death. Dust she
was, and unto dust she will return ! Oh, glorious
hope for her, for him, who felt as if an eternity of
bliss would be worthless, if it parted him from his
new-found treasure ! Dust she was, and unto dust
she must return !
Hapless Hypatia ! If she must needs misapply,
after the fashion of her school, a text or two here
and there from the Hebrew scriptures, what suicidal
fantasy set her on quoting that one? For now,
Lost Lambs 165
upon Philammon's memory flashed up in letters
of light, old words forgotten for months and
ere he was aware, he found himself repeating aloud
and passionately, " I believe in the forgiveness of
sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life ever-
lasting," . . . and then clear and fair arose before
him the vision of the God-man, as He lay at meat
in the Pharisee's house; and of her who washed
His feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs
of her head. . . . And from the depths of his
agonized heart arose the prayer, " Blessed Mag-
dalene, intercede for her ! "
So high he could rise, but not beyond. For
the notion of that God-man was receding fast
to more and more awful abysmal heights, in the
minds of a generation who were forgetting His
love in His power, and practically losing sight
of His humanity in their eager doctrinal asser-
tion of His Divinity. And Philammon's heart
re-echoed the spirit of his age, when he felt that
for an apostate like himself it were presumptuous
to entreat for any light or help from the fountain-
head itself. He who had denied his Lord, he who
had voluntarily cut himself off from the commun-
ion of the Catholic church how could he restore
himself? How could he appease the wrath of Him
who died on the cross, save by years of bitter sup-
plication and self-punishment? . . .
" Fool ! Vain and ambitious fool that I have
been ! For this I threw away the faith of my
childhood ! For this I listened to words at which
I shuddered; crushed down my own doubts and
disgusts; tried to persuade myself that I could
reconcile them with Christianity that I could
make a lie fit into the truth ! For this I puffed
1 66 Hypatia
myself up in the vain hope of becoming not as other
men are superior, forsooth, to my kind ! It was
not enough for me to be a man made in the image
of God : but I must needs become a god myself,
knowing good and evil. And here is the end !
I call upon my fine philosophy to help me once,
in one real practical human struggle, and it folds
its arms and sits serene and silent, smiling upon
my misery ! Oh ! fool, fool, thou art filled with
the fruit of thy own devices ! Back to the old
faith ! Home again, thou wanderer ! And yet
how home? Are not the gates shut against me?
Perhaps against her too. . . . What if she, like
me, were a baptized Christian?"
Terrible and all but hopeless that thought flashed
across him, as in the first revulsion of his conscience
he plunged utterly and implicitly back again into
the faith of his childhood, and all the dark and
cruel theories popular in his day rose up before
him in all their terrors. In the innocent simplicity
of the Laura he had never felt their force ; but he
felt them now. If Pelagia were a baptized woman,
what was before her but unceasing penance? Be-
fore her, as before him, a life of cold and hunger,
groans and tears, loneliness and hideous soul-
sickening uncertainty. Life was a dungeon for
them both henceforth. Be it so ! There was
nothing else to believe in. No other rock of hope
in earth or heaven. That at least promised a pos-
sibility of forgiveness, of amendment, of virtue, of
reward ay, of everlasting bliss and glory ; and
even if she missed of that, better for her the cell
in the desert than a life of self-contented impurity !
If that latter were her destiny, as Hypatia said,
she should at least die fighting against it, defying
Lost Lambs 167
it, cursing it! Better virtue with hell, than sin
with heaven ! And Hypatia had not even prom-
ised her a heaven. The resurrection of the flesh
was too carnal a notion for her refined and lofty
creed. And so, his four months' dream swept
away in a moment, he hurried back to his chamber,
with one fixed thought before him the desert;
a cell for Pelagia; another for himself. There
they would repent, and pray, and mourn out life
side by side, if perhaps God would have mercy
upon their souls. Yet perhaps, she might not
have been baptized after all. And then she was
safe. Like other converts from Paganism, she
might become a catechumen, and go on to
baptism, where the mystic water would wash
away in a moment all the past, and she would
begin life afresh, in the spotless robes of inno-
cence. Yet he had been baptized, he knew from
Arsenius, before he left Athens; and she was
older than he. It was all but impossible: yet
he would hope; and breathless with anxiety
and excitement, he ran up the narrow stairs
and found Miriam standing outside, her hand
upon the bolt, apparently inclined to dispute his
passage.
"Is she still within?"
"What if she be?"
" Let me pass into my own room.
"Yours? Who has been paying the rent for
you, these four months past? You ! What can
you say to her? What can you do for her?
Young pedant, you must be in love yourself
before you can help poor creatures who are
in love ! "
But Philammon pushed past her so fiercely, that
1 68 Hypatia
the old woman was forced to give way, and with
a sinister smile she followed him into the chamber.
Pelagia sprang towards her brother.
" Will she ? will she see me ? "
" Let us talk no more of her, my beloved," said
Philammon, laying his hands gently on her trem-
bling shoulders,' and looking earnestly into her
eyes. ..." Better that we two should work out
our deliverance for ourselves, without the help of
strangers. You can trust me?"
" You ? And can you help me ? Will you teach
me?"
"Yes, but not here. . . . We must escape
Nay, hear me, one moment! dearest sister, hear
me ! Are you so happy here that you can con-
ceive of no better place ! And and, oh, God !
that it may not be true after all ! but is there
not a hell hereafter? "
Pelagia covered her face with her hands : " The
old monk warned me of it ! "
" Oh, take his warning." . . . And Philammon
was bursting forth with some such words about
the lake of fire and brimstone as he had been
accustomed to hear from Pambo and Arsenius,
when Pelagia interrupted him:
" Oh, Miriam ! Is it true ? Is it possible ? What
will become of me? " almost shrieked the poor child.
" What if it were true ? Let him tell you how
he will save you from it," answered Miriam quietly.
"Will not the Gospel save her from it un-
believing Jew? Do not contradict me! I can
save her."
"If she does what?"
"Can she not repent? Can she not mortify
these base affections? Can she not be forgiven?
Lost Lambs 169
Oh, my Pelagia ! forgive me for having dreamed
one moment that I could make you a philosopher,
when you may be a saint of God, a "
He stopped short suddenly, as the thought
about baptism flashed across him, and in a falter-
ing voice asked, "Are you baptized?"
"Baptized?" asked she, hardly understanding
the term.
" Yes by the bishop in the church."
" Ah," she said, " I remember now. . . . When
I was four or five years old. ... A [tank, and
women undressing. . . . And I was bathed too,
and an old man dipped my head under the water
three times. ... I have forgotten what it all
meant it was so long ago. I wore a white dress,
I know, afterwards."
Philammon recoiled with a groan.
" Unhappy child ! May God have mercy on
you ! "
"Will He not forgive me, then? You have for-
given me. He? He must be more good even
than you. Why not?"
" He forgave you then, freely, when you were bap-
tized: and there is no second pardon, unless "
" Unless I leave my love ! " shrieked Pelagia.
" When the Lord forgave the blessed Magdalene
freely, and told her that her faith had saved her
did she live on in sin, or even in the pleasures of
this world? No! though God had forgiven her,
she could not forgive herself. She fled forth into
the desert, and there, naked and barefoot, clothed
only with her hair, and feeding on the herb of the
field, she stayed fasting and praying till her dying
day, never seeing the face of man, but visited and
comforted by angels and archangels. And if she,
170 Hypatia
she who never fell again, needed that long penance
to work out her own salvation oh, Pelagia, what
will not God require of you, who have broken your
baptismal vows, and defiled the white robes, which
the tears of penance only qan wash clean once
more ? "
" But I did not know ! I did not ask to be bap-
tized ! Cruel, cruel parents, to bring me to it !
And God ! Oh, why did He forgive me so soon?
And to go into the deserts ! I dare not ! I can-
not ! See me, how delicate and tender I am ! I
should die of hunger and cold ! I should go mad
with fear and loneliness ! Oh ! brother, brother, is
this the Gospel of the Christians? I came to you
to be taught how to be wise, and good, and re-
spected, and you tell me that all I can do is to live
this horrible life of torture here, on the chance of
escaping torture for ever ! And how do I know
that I shall escape it? How do I know that I
shall make myself miserable enough? How do I
know that He will forgive me after all? Is this
true, Miriam ? Tell me, or I shall go mad ! "
" Yes," said Miriam, with a quiet sneer. " This
is the gospel and good news of salvation, accord-
ing to the doctrine of the Nazarenes."
" I will go with you ! " cried Philammon. " I will
go ! I will never leave you ! I have my own sins
to wash away ! Happy for me if I ever do it !
And I will build you a cell near mine, and kind
men will teach us, and we will pray together night
and morning, for ourselves and for each other, and
weep out our weary lives together "
" Better end them here, at once ! " said Pelagia,
with a gesture of despair, and dashed herself down
on the floor.
Lost Lambs 171
Philammon was about to lift her up, when
Miriam caught him by the arm, and in a. hurried
whisper: "Are you mad? Will you ruin your
own purpose? Why did you tell her this? Why
did you not wait give her hope time to collect
herself time to wean herself from her lover, in-
stead of terrifying and disgusting her at the outset,
as you have done? Have you a man's heart in
you? No word of comfort for that poor creature,
nothing but hell, hell, hell See to your own
chance of hell first ! It is greater than you fancy ! "
" It cannot be greater than I fancy ! "
" Then see to it. For her, poor darling !
why, even we Jews, who know that all you Gentiles
are doomed to Gehenna alike, have some sort of
hope for such a poor untaught creature as that."
"And why is she untaught? Wretch that you
are! You have had the training of her! You
brought her up to sin and shame ! You drove
from her recollection the faith in which she was
baptized ! "
" So much the better for her, if the recollection
of it is to make her no happier than it does
already. Better to wake unexpectedly in Gehenna
when you die, than to endure over and above the
dread of it here. And as for leaving her untaught,
on your own showing she has been taught too
much already. Wiser it would be in you to curse
your parents for having had her baptized, than me
for giving her ten years' pleasure before she goes
to the pit of Tophet. Come now, don't be angry
with me. The old Jewess is your friend, revile
her as you will. She shall marry this Goth."
" An Arian heretic ! "
" She shall convert him and make a Catholic of
172 Hypatia
him, if you like. At all events, if you wish to win
her, you must win her my way. You have had
your chance, and spoiled it. Let me have mine !
Pelagia, darling ! Up, and be a woman ! We
will find a philtre downstairs to give that ungrate-
ful man, that shall make him more mad about you,
before a day is over, than ever you were about
him."
" No ! " said Pelagia, looking up. " No love-
potions ! No poisons ! "
" Poisons, little fool ! Do you doubt the old
woman's skill? Do you think I shall make him
lose his wits, as Callisphyra did to her lover last
year, because she would trust to old Megaera's
drugs, instead of coming to me 1 "
" No ! No drugs ; no magic ! He must love me
really, or not at all ! He must love me for myself,
because I am worth loving, because he honors,
worships me, or let me die. I, whose boast was,
even when I was basest, that I never needed such
mean tricks, but conquered like Aphrodite, a queen
in my own right! I have been my own love-
charm : when I cease to be that, let me die ! "
" One as mad as the other ! " cried Miriam, in
utter perplexity. " Hist ! what is that tramp upon
the stairs?/'
At this moment heavy footsteps were heard as-
cending the stairs. . . . All three stopped aghast :
Philammon, because he thought the visitors were
monks in search of him; Miriam, because she
thought they were Orestes's guards in search of
her; and Pelagia, from vague dread of anything
and everything. . . .
" Have you an inner room ? " asked the Jewess.
" None."
Lost Lambs 173
The old woman set her lips firmly, and drew her
dagger. Pelagia wrapped her face in her cloak,
and stood trembling, bowed down, as if expecting
another blow. The door opened, and in walked,
neither monks nor guard, but Wulf and Smid.
" Heyday, young monk ! " cried the latter worthy,
with a loud laugh " Veils here, too, eh ! At your
old trade, my worthy portress of hell-gate ? Well,
walk out now ; we have a little business with this
young gentleman."
And slipping past the unsuspecting Goths, Pela-
gia and Miriam hurried downstairs.
" The young one, at least, seems a little ashamed
of her errand. . . . Now, Wulf, speak low; and I
will see that no one is listening at the door."
Philammon faced his unexpected visitors with a
look of angry inquiry. What right had they, or
any man, to intrude at such a moment on his mis-
ery and disgrace? . . . But he was disarmed the
next instant by old Wulf, who advanced to him,
and looking him fully in the face with an expres-
sion which there was no mistaking, held out his
broad brown hand.
Philammon grasped it, and then covering his
face with his hands, burst into tears.
" You did right. You are a brave boy. If you
had died, no man need have been ashamed to die
your death."
" You were there, then ? " sobbed Philammon.
"We were."
" And what is more," said Smid, as the poor
boy writhed at the admission, " we were mightily
minded, some of us, to have leapt down to you and
cut you a passage out. One man at least, whom I
know of, felt his old blood as hot for the minute as
1 74 Hypatia
a four-year-old's. The foul curs ! And to hoot her,
after all ! Oh that I may have one good hour's
hewing at them before I die ! "
" And you shall ! " said Wulf. " Boy, you wish
to get this sister of yours into your power ? "
"It is hopeless hopeless! She- will never
leave her the Amal. "
"Are you so sure of that?"
"She told me so with her own lips not ten
minutes ago. That was she who went out as you
entered ! "
A curse of astonishment and regret burst from
Smid. . . .
" Had I but known her ! By the soul of my
fathers, she should have found that it was easier to
come here than to go home again ! "
" Hush, Smid ! Better as it is. Boy, if I
put her into your power, dare you carry her
off?"
Philammon hesitated one moment.
" What I dare you know already. But it would
be an unlawful thing, surely, to use violence."
" Settle your philosopher's doubts for yourself.
I have made my offer. I should have thought
that a man in his senses could give but one
answer, much more a mad monk."
"You forget the money matters, prince," said
Smid, with a smile.
" I do not. But I don't think the boy so mean
as to hesitate on that account."
" He may as well know, however, that we prom-
ise to send all her trumpery after her, even to
the Amal's presents. As for the house, we won't
trouble her to lend it us longer than we can
help. We intend shortly to move into more ex-
Lost Lambs 175
tensive premises, and open business on a grander
scale, as the shopkeepers say, eh, prince ? "
"Her money? That money? God forgive
her ! " answered Philammon. " Do you fancy me
base enough to touch it? But I am resolved. Tell
me what to do, and I will do it."
"You know the lane which runs down to the
canal, under the left wall of the house ? "
"Yes."
" And a door in the corner tower, close to the
landing-place ? "
" I do."
" Be there, with a dozen stout monks, to-morrow,
an hour after sundown, and take what we give you.
After that, the concern is yours, not ours."
" Monks ? " said Philammon. " I am at open
feud with the whole order."
"Make friends with them, then," shortly sug-
gested Smid.
Philammon writhed inwardly. "It makes no
difference to you, I presume, whom I bring?"
" No more than it does whether or not you pitch
her into the canal, and put a hurdle over her when
you have got her," answered Smid; "which is
what a Goth would do, if he were in your
place."
" Do not vex the poor lad, friend. If he thinks
he can mend her instead of punishing her, in
Freya's name, let him try. You will be there,
then? And mind, I like you. I liked you when
you faced that great river-hog. I like you better
now than ever ; for you have spoken to-day like a
Sagaman, and dared like a hero. Therefore mind ;
if you do not bring a good guard to-morrow night,
your life will not be safe. The whole city is out
1 76 Hypatia
in the streets ; and Odin alone knows what will be
done, and who will be alive, eight-and-forty hours
hence. Mind you! The mob may do strange
things, and they may see still stranger things done.
If you once find yourself safe back here, stay where
you are, if you value her life or your own. And
if you are wise, let the men whom you bring
with you be monks, though it cost your proud
stomach "
" That 's not fair, prince ! You are telling too
much ! " interrupted Smid, while Philammon
gulped down the said proud stomach, and an-
swered, " Be it so ! "
" I have won my bet, Smid," said the old man,
chuckling, as the two tramped out into the street,
to the surprise and fear of all the neighbors, while
the children clapped their hands, and the street
dogs felt it their duty to bark lustily at the strange
figures of their unwonted visitors.
" No play, no pay, Wulf. We shall see to-
morrow."
" I knew that he would stand the trial ! I knew
he was right at heart ! "
" At all events, there is no fear of his ill-using
the poor thing, if he loves her well enough to go
down on his knees to his sworn foes for her."
" I don 't know that," answered Wulf, with a
shake of the head. " These monks, I hear, fancy
that their God likes them the better the more mis-
erable they are : so, perhaps they may fancy that
he will like them all the more, the more miserable
they make other people. However it's no con-
cern of ours."
" We have quite enough of our own to see to
just now. But mind, no play, no pay."
Lost Lambs 177
" Of course not. How the streets are filling !
We shall not be able to see the guards to-night,
if this mob thickens much more."
" We shall have enough to do to hold our own,
perhaps. Do you hear what they are crying there ?
' Down with all heathens ! Down with barbarians ! '
That means us, you know."
"Do you fancy no one understands Greek but
yourself ? Let them come. ... It may give us an
excuse. . . . And we can hold the house a week."
"But how can we get speech of the guards? "
" We will slip round by water. And, after all,
deeds will win them better than talk. They will be
forced to fight on the same side as we, and most"
probably be glad of our help ; for if the mob at-
tacks any one, it will begin with the prefect."
"And then curse their shouting! Let the
soldiers once find our Amal at their head, and
they will be ready to go with him a mile, where
they meant to go a yard."
" The Goths will, and the Markmen, and those
Dacians, and Thracians, or whatever the Romans
call them. But I hardly trust the Huns."
" The curse of heaven on their pudding faces and
pigs' eyes ! There will be no love lost between us.
But there are not twenty of them scattered in dif-
ferent troops ; one of us can thrash three of them ;
and they will be sure to side with the winning party.
Besides, plunder, plunder, comrade ! When did
you know a Hun turn back from that, even if he
were only on the scent of a lump of tallow?"
"As for the Gauls and Latins," . . . went on
Wulf meditatively, " they belong to any man who
can pay them." . . .
" Which we can do, like all wise generals, one
178 Hypatia
penny out of our own pocket, and nine out of the
enemy's. And the Amal is stanch ? "
" Stanch as his own hounds, now there is some-
thing to be done on the spot. His heart was in
the right place after all. I knew it all along. But
he could never in his life see four-and-twenty hours
before him. Even now if that Pelagia gets him
under her spell again, he may throw down his
sword, and fall as fast asleep as ever."
" Never fear ; we have settled her destiny for her,
as far as that is concerned. Look at the mob be-
fore the door ! We must get in by the postern-
gate."
" Get in by the sewer, like a rat ! I go my
own way. Draw, old hammer and tongs ! or
run away ! "
" Not this time." And sword in hand, the two
marched into the heart of the crowd, who gave way
before them like a flock of sheep.
" They know their intended shepherds already,"
said Smid. But at that moment the crowd, seeing
them about to enter the house, raised a yell of
" Goths ! Heathens ! Barbarians ! " and a rush
from behind took place.
" If you will have it, then ! " said Wulf. And
the two long bright blades flashed round and round
their heads, redder and redder every time they
swung aloft. . . . The old men never even
checked their steady walk, and knocking at the
gate, went in, leaving more than one lifeless corpse
at the entrance.
" We have put the coal in the thatch, now, with
a vengeance," said Smid, as they wiped their
swords inside.
" We have. Get me out a boat and half-a-dozen
Lost Lambs 179
men, and I and Goderic will go round by the canal
to the palace, and settle a thing or two with the
guards."
" Why should not the Amal go, and offer our
help himself to the prefect?"
"What? Would you have him after that turn
against the hound? For troth and honor's sake,
he must keep quiet in the matter."
" He will have no objection to keep quiet
trust him for that! But don't forget Sagaman
Moneybag, the best of all orators," called Smid
laughingly after him, as he went off to man the
boat.
CHAPTER XXV
SEEKING AFTER A SIGN
" "IT T HAT answer has he sent back, father?"
W asked Hypatia, as Theon re-entered her
chamber, after delivering that hapless letter to
Philammon.
"Insolent that he is! he tore it to fragments
and fled forth without a word."
" Let him go, and desert us like the rest, in our
calamity ! "
" At least, we have the jewels."
" The jewels ? Let them be returned to their
owner. Shall we defile ourselves by taking them
as wages for anything above all, for that which
is unperformed."
" But, my child, they were given to us freely.
He bade me keep them ; and and, to tell you
the truth, I must keep them. After this unfortu-
nate failure, be sure of it, every creditor we have
will be clamoring for payment."
" Let them take our house and furniture, and
sell us as slaves, then. Let them take all, pro-
vided we keep our virtue."
" Sell us as slaves? Are you mad?"
" Not quite mad yet, father," answered she with
a sad smile. " But how should we be worse than
we are now, were we slaves ? Raphael Aben-Ezra
told me that he obeyed my precepts, when he
went forth as a houseless beggar; and shall I
Seeking After a Sign 181
not have courage to obey them myself, if the
need come? The thought of his endurance has
shamed my luxury for this many a month. After
all, what does the philosopher require but bread
and water, and the clear brook in which to wash
away the daily stains of his earthly prison house ?
Let what is fated come. Hypatia struggles with
the stream no more ! "
" My daughter ! And have you given up all
hope? So soon disheartened! What! Is this
paltry accident to sweep away the purposes of
years? Orestes remains still faithful. His guards
have orders to garrison the house for as long as
we shall require them."
"Send them away, then. I have done no
wrong, and I fear no punishment."
" You do not know the madness of the mob ;
they are shouting your name in the streets al-
ready, in company with Pelagia's."
Hypatia shuddered. Her name in company with
Pelagia's ! And to this she had brought herself!
" I have deserved it ! I have sold myself to
a lie and a disgrace ! I have stooped to truckle,
to intrigue ! I have bound myself to a sordid
trickster! Father! never mention his name to
me again! I have leagued myself with the im-
pure and the bloodthirsty, and I have my reward !
No more politics for Hypatia from henceforth,
my father; no more orations and lectures; no
more pearls of divine wisdom cast before swine.
I have sinned in divulging the secrets of the
immortals to the mob. Let them follow their
natures. Fool that I was, to fancy that my
speech, my plots, could raise them above that
which the gods, had made them!"
1 8 2 Hypatia
"Then you give up our lectures? Worse and
worse ! We shall be ruined utterly ! "
"We are ruined utterly already. Orestes?
There is no help in him. I know the man too
well, my father, not to know that he would give
us up to-morrow to the fury of the Christians
were his own base life even his own baser
office in danger."
" Too true too true ! I fear," said the poor old
man, wringing his hands in perplexity. "What
will become of us, of you, rather? What mat-
ter what happens to the useless old star-gazer?
Let him die! To-day or next year is alike to
him. But you, you! Let us escape by the
canal. We may gather up enough, even with-
out these jewels, which you refuse, to pay our
voyage to Athens, and there we shall be safe
with Plutarch; he will welcome you all Athens
will welcome you we will collect a fresh school
and you shall be Queen of Athens, as you have
been Queen of Alexandria ! "
"No, father. What I know, henceforth I will
know for myself only. Hypatia will be from this
day alone with the immortal gods ! "
"You will not leave me?" cried the old man,
terrified.
" Never on earth ! " answered she, bursting into
real human tears, and throwing herself on his
bosom. " Never never ! father of my spirit as
well as of my flesh ! the parent who has trained
me, taught me, educated my soul from the cradle
to use her wings! the 'only human being who
never misunderstood me never thwarted me
never deceived me ! "
"My priceless child) And I have been the
cause of your ruin ! "
Seeking After a Sign 183
" Not you ! a thousand times not you ! I
only am to blame ! I tampered with worldly
politics. I tempted you on to fancy that I could
effect what I so rashly undertook. Do not accuse
yourself unless you wish to break my heart ! We
can be happy together yet. A palm-leaf hut in
the desert, dates from the grove, and water from
the spring the monk dares be miserable alone
in such a dwelling, and cannot we dare to be
happy together in it?"
" Then you will escape ? "
" Not to-day. It were base to flee before dan-
ger comes. We must hold out at our post to the
last moment, even if we dare not die at it like
heroes. And to-morrow I go to the lecture-room,
to the beloved Museum, for the last time, to
take farewell of my pupils. Unworthy as they
are, I owe it to myself and to philosophy to tell
them why I leave them."
" It will be too dangerous indeed it will ! "
" I could take the guards with me, then. And
yet no. . . . They shall never have occasion to
impute fear to the philosopher. Let them see her
go forth as usual on her errand, strong in the
courage of innocence, secure in the protection
of the gods. So, perhaps, some sacred awe,
some suspicion of her divineness, may fall on
them at last."
" I must go with you."
"No, I go alone. You might incur danger
where I am safe. After all, I am a woman. . . .
And, fierce as they are, they will not dare to
harm me."
The old man shook his head.
"Look now," she said smilingly, laying her
1 84 Hypatia
hands on his shoulders, and looking into his
face. ..." You tell me that I am beautiful, you
know ; and beauty will tame the lion. Do you not
think that this face might disarm even a monk? "
And she laughed and blushed so sweetly, that
the old man forgot his fears, as she intended that
he should, and kissed her and went his way for
the time being, to command all manner of hospi-
talities to the soldiers, whom he prudently de-
termined to keep in his house as long as he
could make them stay there; in pursuance of
which wise purpose he contrived not to see a
great deal of pleasant flirtation between his
valiant defenders and Hypatia's maids, who, by
no means so prudish as their mistress, welcomed
as a rare boon from heaven an afternoon's chat
with twenty tall men of war.
So they jested and laughed below, while old
Theon, having brought out the very best old
wine, and actually proposed in person, by way
of mending matters, the health of the Emperor
of Africa, locked himself into the library, and
comforted his troubled soul with a tough problem
of astronomy, which had been haunting him
the whole day, even in the theatre itself But
Hypatia sat still in her chamber, her face buried
in her hands, her heart full of many thoughts,
her eyes of tears. She had smiled away her
father's fears ; she could not smile away her own.
She felt, she hardly knew why, but she felt as
clearly as if a god had proclaimed it to her bodily
ears, that the crisis of her life was come ; that her
political and active career was over, and that she
must now be content to be for herself and in her-
self alone, all that she was, or might become.
Seeking After a Sign 185
The world might be regenerated : but not in her
day ; the gods restored ; but not by her. It
was a fearful discovery, and yet hardly a dis-
covery. Her heart had told her for years that she
was hoping against hope, that she was strug-
gling against a stream too mighty for her. And
now the moment had come when she must either
be swept helpless down the current, or, by one
desperate effort, win firm land, and let the tide roll
on its own way henceforth. ... Its own way ? . . .
Not the way of the gods, at least; for it was
sweeping their names from off the earth. What if
they did not care to be known? What if they
were weary of worship and reverence from mortal
men, and, self-sufficing in their own perfect bliss,
recked nothing for the weal or woe of earth?
Must it not be so? Had she not proof of it in
everything which she beheld ? What did Isis care
for her Alexandria? What did Athene care for
her Athens? . . . And yet Homer and Hesiod,
and those old Orphic singers, were of another
mind. . . . Whence got they that strange fancy of
gods counselling, warring, intermarrying, with man-
kind, as with some kindred tribe?
"Zeus, father of gods and men." . . . Those
were words of hope and comfort. . . . But were
they true ? Father of men ? Impossible ! not
father of Pelagia, surely. Not father of the base,
the foul, the ignorant. . . . Father of heroic souls,
only, the poets must have meant. . . . But where
were the heroic souls now? Was she one? If so,
why was she deserted by the upper powers in her
utter need? Was the heroic race indeed extinct?
Was she merely assuming, in her self-conceit, an
honor to which she had no claim ! Or was it all a
1 86 Hypatia
dream of these old singers? Had they, as some
bold philosophers had said, invented gods in their
own likeness, and palmed off on the awe and
admiration of men their own fair phantoms? . . .
It must be so. If there were gods, to know them
was the highest bliss of man. Then would they
not teach men of themselves, unveil their own
loveliness to a chosen few, even for the sake of
their own honor, if not, as she had dreamed once,
from love to those who bore a kindred flame to
theirs? . . . What if there were no gods? What
if the stream of fate, which was sweeping away
their names, were the only real power. What if
that old Pyrrhonic notion were the true solution of
the problem of the universe ? What if there were
no center, no order, no rest, no goal but only a
perpetual flux, a down-rushing change ? And be-
fore her dizzying brain and heart arose that awful
vision of Lucretius, of the homeless universe fall-
ing, falling, falling, for ever from nowhence toward
nowhither through the unending ages, by cause-
less and unceasing gravitation, while the changes
and efforts of all mortal things were but the jostling
of the dust-atoms amid the everlasting storm. . . .
It could not be ! There was a truth, a virtue, a
beauty, a nobleness, which could never change, but
which were absolute, the same for ever. The God-
given instinct of her woman's heart rebelled against
her intellect, and, in the name of God, denied its
lie. . . . Yes, there was virtue, beauty. . . .
And yet might not they, too, be accidents of
that enchantment, which man calls mortal life;
temporary and mutable accidents of conscious-
ness ; brilliant sparks, struck out by the clashing
of the dust-atoms? Who could tell?
Seeking After a Sign 187
There were those once who could tell. Did
not Plotinus speak of a direct mystic intuition of
the Deity, an enthusiasm without passion, a still
intoxication of the soul, in which she rose above
life, thought, reason, herself, to that which she
contemplated, the absolute and first One, and
united herself with that One, or, rather, became
aware of that union which had existed from the
first moment in which she emanated from the
One ? Six times in a life of sixty years had Ploti-
nus risen to that height of mystic union, and
known himself to be a part of God. Once had
Porphyry attained the same glory. Hypatia,
though often attempting, had never yet succeeded
in attaining to any distinct vision of a being external
to herself; though practice, a firm will, and a
powerful imagination, had long since made her an
adept in producing, almost at will, that mysterious
trance, which was the preliminary step to super-
natural vision. But her delight in the brilliant,
and, as she held, divine imaginations, in which at
such times she revelled, had been always checked
and chilled by the knowledge that, in such mat-
ters, hundreds inferior to her in intellect and in
learning, ay, saddest of all, Christian monks and
nuns, boasted themselves her equals, indeed,
if their own account of their visions was to be
believed, her superiors by the same methods
which she employed. For by celibacy, rigorous
fasts, perfect bodily quiescence, and intense con-
templation of one thought, they, too, pretended to
be able to rise above the body into the heavenly
regions, and to behold things unspeakable, which,
nevertheless, like most other unspeakable things,
contrived to be most carefully detailed and noised
VoL 79
1 88 Hypatia
abroad. . . . And it was with a half feeling of shame
that she prepared herself that afternoon for one
more, perhaps one last attempt, to scale the heav-
ens, as she recollected how many an illiterate monk
and nun, from Constantinople to the Thebaid, was
probably employed at that moment exactly as she
was. Still, the attempt must be made. In that
terrible abyss of doubt, she must have something
palpable, real ; something beyond her own thoughts,
and hopes, and speculations, whereon to rest
her weary faith, her weary heart. . . . Perhaps
this time, at least, in her extremest need, a
god might vouchsafe some glimpse of his own
beauty. . . . Athene might pity at last. . . . Or,
if not Athene, some archetype, angel, demon. . . .
And then she shuddered at the thought of those
evil and deceiving spirits, whose delight it was to
delude and tempt the votaries of the gods, in the
forms of angels of light. But even in the face of
that danger, she must make the trial once again.
Was she not pure and spotless as Athene's self?
Would not her innate purity enable ^her to dis-
cern, by an instinctive antipathy, those foul beings
beneath the fairest mask? At least, she must
make the trial. . . .
And so, with a look of intense humility, she be-
gan to lay aside her jewels and her upper robes.
Then, baring her bosom and her feet, and shaking
her golden tresses loose, she laid herself down
upon the couch, crossed her hands upon her
breast, and, with upturned ecstatic eyes, waited
for that which might befall.
There she lay, hour after hour, as her eye grad-
ually kindled, her bosom heaved, her breath came
fast : but there was no more sign of life in those
Seeking After a Sign 189
straight still limbs, and listless feet and hands,
than in Pygmalion's ivory bride, before she
bloomed into human flesh and blood. The sun
sank towards his rest ; the roar of the city grew
louder and louder without; the soldiers revelled
and laughed below: but every sound passed
through unconscious ears, and went its way un-
heeded. Faith, hope, reason itself were staked
upon the result of that daring effort to scale the
highest heaven. And, by one continuous effort
of her practised will, which reached its highest
virtue, as mystics hold, in its own suicide, she
chained down her senses from every sight and
sound, and even her mind from every thought,
and lay utterly self-resigned, self-emptied, till
consciousness of time and place had vanished,
and she seemed to herself alone in the abyss.
She dared not reflect, she dared not hope, she
dared not rejoice, lest she should break the spell.
. . . Again and again had she broken it at this
very point, by some sudden and tumultuous yield-
ing to her own joy or awe ; but now her will held
firm. . . . She did not feel her own limbs, hear
her own breath. ... A light bright mist, an end-
less network of glittering films, coming, going,
uniting, resolving themselves, was above her and
around her. . . . Was she in the body or out of
the body? . . .
The network faded into an abyss of still clear
light. ... A still warm atmosphere was around
her, thrilling through and through her. . . . She
breathed the light, and floated in it, as a mote in
the midday beam. . . . And still her will held firm.
190 Hypatia
Far away, miles, and aeons, and abysses away,
through the interminable depths of glory, a dark
and shadowy spot. It neared and grew. ... A
dark globe, groined with rainbows. . . . What
might it be ? She dared not hope. ... It came
nearer, nearer, nearer, touched her. . . . The
center quivered, flickered, took form a face.
. . . A god's? No Pelagia's.
Beautiful, sad, craving, reproachful, indignant,
awful. . . . Hypatia could bear no more; and
sprang to her feet with a shriek, to experience
in its full bitterness the fearful revulsion of the
mystic, when the human reason and will which
he has spurned reassert their God-given rights;
and after the intoxication of the imagination,
comes its prostration and collapse.
And this, then, was the answer of the gods!
The phantom of her whom she had despised,
exposed, spurned from her ! " No, not their
answer the answer of my own soul! Fool
that I have been! I have been exerting my
will most while I pretended to resign it most!
I have been the slave of every mental desire,
while I tried to trample on them ! What if that
network of light, that blaze, that globe of dark-
ness, have been, like the face of Pelagia, the phan-
toms of my own imagination ay, even of my
own senses? What if I have mistaken for Deity
my own self? What if I have been my own light,
my own abyss ? . . . Am I not my own abyss, my
own light my own darkness? " And she smiled
bitterly as she said it, and throwing herself again
upon the couch, buried her head in her hands, ex-
hausted equally in body and in mind.
At last she rose, and sat, careless of her dis-
Seeking After a Sign 191
bevelled locks, gazing out into vacancy. " Oh,
for a sign, for a token ! Oh, for the golden days
of which the poets sang, when gods walked among
men, fought by their side as friends! And yet
. . . are those old stories credible, pious, even
modest? Does not my heart revolt from them?
Who has shared more than I in Plato's contempt
for the foul deeds, the degrading transformations,
which Homer imputes to the gods of Greece?
Must I believe them now? Must I stoop to
think that gods, who live in a region above all
sense, will deign to make themselves palpable
to those senses of ours which are whole aeons
of existence below them? Degrade themselves
to the base accidents of matter? Yes! That,
rather than nothing! ... Be it even so. Bet-
ter, better, better, to believe that Ares fled
shrieking and wounded from a mortal man
better to believe in Zeus's adulteries and
Hermes's thefts than to believe that gods
have never spoken face to face with men ! Let
me think, lest I go mad, that beings from that
unseen world for which I hunger have appeared,
and held communion with mankind, such as no
reason nor sense could doubt even though
those beings were more capricious and baser
than ourselves! Is there, after all, an unseen
world? Oh, for a sign, a sign ! "
Haggard and dizzy, she wandered into her
" chamber of the gods ; " a collection of antiq-
uities, which she kept there rather as matters
of taste than of worship. All around her they
looked out into vacancy with their white soul-
less eyeballs, their dead motionless beauty, those
cold dreams of the buried generations. Oh, that
192 Hypatia
they could speak, and set her heart at rest ! At
the lower end of the room stood a Pallas, com-
pletely armed with aegis, spear, and helmet; a
gem of Athenian sculpture, which she had
bought from some merchants after the sack of
Athens by the Goths. There it stood severely
fair ; but the right hand, alas ! was gone ; and
there the maimed arm remained extended, as if
in sad mockery of the faith of which the body
remained, while the power was dead and vanished.
She gazed long and passionately on the image
of her favorite goddess, the ideal to which she
had longed for years to assimilate herself; till
was it a dream ! was it a frolic of the dying sun-
light? or did those lips really bend themselves
into a smile?
Impossible ! No, not impossible. Had not,
only a few years before, the image of Hecate
smiled on a philosopher? Were there not stories
of moving images, and winking pictures, and all
the material miracles by which a dying faith
strives desperately not to deceive others but
to persuade itself of its own sanity? It had been
it might be it was !
No ! there the lips were, as they had been from
the beginning, closed upon each other in that
stony self-collected calm, which was only not a
sneer. The wonder, if it was one, had passed:
and now did her eyes play her false, or were the
snakes round that Medusa's head upon the shield
all writhing, grinning, glaring at her with stony
eyes, longing to stiffen her with terror into their
own likeness?
No ! that, too, passed. Would that even it had
stayed, for it would have been a sign of life I
Seeking After a Sign 193
She looked up at the face once more : but in vain
the stone was stone; and ere she was aware,
she found herself clasping passionately the knees
of the marble.
"Athene! Pallas! Adored! Ever Virgin 1
Absolute reason, springing unbegotten from the
nameless One ! Hear me ! Athene ! Have mercy
on me ! Speak, if it be to curse me ! Thou who
alone wieldest the lightnings of thy father, wield
them to strike me dead, if thou wilt; only do
something ! something to prove thine own exis-
tence something to make me sure that anything
exists beside this gross miserable matter, and my
miserable soul. I stand alone in the center of the
universe ! I fall and sicken down the abyss of
ignorance, and doubt, and boundless blank and
darkness ! Oh, have mercy ! I know that thou
art not this! Thou art everywhere and in all
things ! But I know that this is a form which
pleases thee, which symbolizes thy nobleness ! I
know that thou hast deigned to speak to those
who Oh! what do I know? Nothing! nothing!
nothing ! "
And she clung there, bedewing with scalding
tears the cold feet of the image, while there was
neither sign, nor voice, nor any that answered.
On a sudden she was startled by a rustling near ;
and, looking round, saw close behind her the old
Jewess.
" Cry aloud ! " hissed the hag, in a tone of
bitter scorn ; " Cry aloud, for she is a goddess.
Either she is talking, or pursuing, or she is on a
journey ; or perhaps she has grown old, as we all
shall do some day, my pretty lady, and is too cross
and lazy to stir. What ! her naughty doll will not
1 94 Hypatia
speak to her, will it not? or even open its eyes,
because the wires are grown rusty? Well, we will
find a new doll for her, if she chooses."
" Begone, hag ! What do you mean by intrud-
ing here?" said Hypatia, springing up; but the
old woman went on coolly:
"Why not try the fair young gentleman over
there ? " pointing to a copy of the Apollo which
we call Belvidere "What is his name? Old
maids are always cross and jealous, you know.
But he he could not be cruel to such a sweet
face as that. Try the fair young lad ! Or, perhaps,
if you are bashful, the old Jewess might try him
for you?"
These last words were spoken with so marked a
significance, that Hypatia, in spite of her disgust,
found herself asking the hag what she meant.
She made no answer for a few seconds, but
remained looking steadily into her eyes with a
glance of fire, before which even the proud Hypa-
tia, as she had done once before, quailed utterly,
so deep was the understanding, so dogged the
purpose, so fearless the power, which burned
within those withered and sunken sockets.
" Shall the old witch call him up, the fair young
Apollo, with the beauty-bloom upon his chin?
He shall come ! He shall come ! I warrant him he
must come, civilly enough when old Miriam's
finger is once held up."
"To you? Apollo, the god of light, obey a
Jewess?"
"A Jewess? And you a Greek?" almost
yelled the old woman. " And who are you who
ask? And who are your gods, your heroes, your
devils, you children of yesterday, compared with
Seeking After a Sign 195
us? You, who were a set of half-naked savages
squabbling about the siege of Troy, when our
Solomon, amid splendors such as Rome and Con-
stantinople never saw, was controlling demons and
ghosts, angels and archangels, principalities and
powers, by the ineffable name? What science
have you that you have not stolen from the Egyp-
tians and Chaldees? And what had the Egyp-
tians which Moses did not teach them? And
what have the Chaldees which Daniel did not
teach them? What does the world know but from
us, the fathers and the masters of magic us, the
lords of the inner secrets of the universe ! Come,
you Greek baby as the priests in Egypt said of
your forefathers, always children, craving for a
new toy, and throwing it away next day come
to the fountain-head of all your paltry wisdom I
Name what you will see, and you shall see it ! "
Hypatia was cowed ; for of one thing there was
no doubt that the woman utterly believed her
own words; and that was a state of mind of which
she had seen so little, that it was no wonder if it
acted on her with that overpowering sympathetic
force, with which it generally does, and perhaps
ought to, act on the human heart. Besides, her
school had always looked to the ancient nations
of the East for the primaeval founts of inspiration,
the mysterious lore of mightier races long gone
by. Might she not have found it now?
The Jewess saw her advantage in a moment,
and ran on, without giving her time to answer:
"What sort shall it be, then? By glass and
water, or by the moonlight on the wall, or by
the sieve, or by the meal? By the cymbals,
or by the stars? By the table of the twenty-
196 Hypatia
four elements, by which the empire was promised
to Theodosius the Great, or by the sacred count-
ers of the Assyrians, or by the sapphire of the
Hecatic sphere? Shall I threaten, as the Egyp-
tian priests used to do, to tear Osiris again in
pieces, or to divulge the mysteries of Isis? I
could do so, if I chose; for I know them all
and more. Or shall I use the ineffable name
on Solomon's seal, which we alone, of all the
nations of the earth know? No; it would be
a pity to waste that upon a heathen. It shall
be by the sacred wafer. Look here ! here they
are, the wonder-working atomies ! Eat no food
this day, except one of these every three hours,
and come to me to-night at the house of your
porter, Eudaemon, bringing with you the black
agate; and then why then, what you have
the heart to see, you shall see ! "
Hypatia took the wafers, hesitating:
"But what are they?"
"And you profess to explain Homer? Whom
did I hear the other morning lecturing away so
glibly on the nepenthe which Helen gave the
heroes, to fill them with the spirit of joy and
love; how it was an allegory of the inward in-
spiration which flows from spiritual beauty, and
all that? pretty enough, fair lady; but the ques-
tion still remains, what was it; and I say it was this.
Take it and try; and then confess, that while
you can talk about Helen, I can act her; and
know a little more about Homer than you do,
after all."
"I cannot believe you ! Give me some sign of
your power, or how can I trust you ! "
"A sign? A sign? Kneel down then there,
Seeking After a Sign 197
with your face toward the north; you are over
tall for the poor old cripple ! "
"I? I never knelt to human being."
"Then consider that you kneel to the hand-
some idol there, if you will but kneel ! "
And constrained by that glittering eye, Hypatia
knelt before her.
"Have you faith? Have you desire? Will
you submit? Will you obey? Self-will and pride
see nothing, know nothing. If you do not give
up yourself, neither God nor devil will care to
approach. Do you submit?"
" I do ! I do ! " cried poor Hypatia, in an agony
of curiosity and self-distrust, while she felt her eye
quailing and her limbs loosening more and more
every moment under that intolerable fascination.
The old woman drew from her bosom a crystal,
and placed the point against Hypatia's breast. A
cold shiver ran through her. . . . The witch waved
her hands mysteriously round her head, muttering
from time to time, " Down ! down, proud spirit ! "
and then placed the tips of her skinny fingers on
the victim's forehead. Gradually her eyelids be-
came heavy; again and again she tried to raise
them, and dropped them again before those fixed
glaring eyes . . . and in another moment she lost
consciousness. . . .
When she awoke, she was kneeling in a distant
part of the room, with dishevelled hair and gar-
ments. What was it so cold that she was clasp-
ing in her arms? The feet of the Apollo! The
hag stood by her, chuckling to herself and clap-
ping her hands.
"How came I here? What have I been
doing?"
198 Hypatia
" Saying such pretty things ! paying the fair
youth there such compliments, as he will not be
rude enough to forget in his visit to-night. A
charming prophetic trance you have had! Ah,
ha! you are not the only woman who is wiser
asleep than awake! Well, you will make a very
pretty Cassandra or a Clytia, if you have the
sense. ... It lies with you, my fair lady. Are
you satisfied now? Will you have any more
signs? Shall the old Jewess blast those blue
eyes blind to show that she knows more than
the heathen?"
" Oh, I believe you I believe," cried the
poor exhausted maiden. " I will come ; and
yet "
" Ah ! yes ! You had better settle first how
he shall appear."
"As he wills 1 let him only come! only let
me know that he is a god. Abamnon said that
gods appeared in a clear, steady, unbearable light,
amid a choir of all the lesser deities, archangels,
principalities, and heroes, who derive their life
from them."
" Abamnon was an old fool, then. Do you think
young Phoebus ran after Daphne with such a mob
at his heels? or that Jove, when he swam up to
Leda, headed a whole Nile-flock of ducks, and
plover, and curlews? No, he shall come alone
to you alone; and then you may choose for
yourself between Cassandra and Clytia. . . .
Farewell. Do not forget your wafers, or the
agate either, and talk with no one between now
and sunset. And then my pretty lady f"
And laughing to herself, the old hag glided
from the room.
Seeking After a Sign
Hypatia sat trembling with shame and dread.
She, as a disciple of the more purely spiritu-
alistic school of Porphyry, had always looked
with aversion, with all but contempt, on those
theurgic arts which were so much lauded and
employed by lamblicus, Abamnon, and those who
clung lovingly to the old priestly rites of Egypt
and Chaldaea. They had seemed to her vulgar
toys, tricks of legerdemain, suited only for the won-
der of the mob. . . . She began to think of them
with more favor now. JHow did she know that
the vulgar did not require signs and wonders to
make them believe ? . . . How, indeed ? for did she
not want such herself? And she opened Abam-
non's famous letter to Porphyry, and read earnestly
over, for the twentieth time, his subtle justifica-
tion of magic, and felt it to be unanswerable.
Magic? What was not magical? The whole
universe, from the planets over her head to the
meanest pebble at her feet, was utterly mysteri-
ous, ineffable, miraculous, influencing and influ-
enced by affinities and repulsions as unexpected,
as unfathomable, as those which, as Abamnon
said, drew the gods towards those sounds, those
objects, which, either in form, or color, or chemi-
cal properties, were symbolic of, or akin to, them-
selves. What wonder in it, after all? Was not
love and hatred, sympathy and antipathy, the
law of the universe? Philosophers, when they
gave mechanical explanations of natural phe-
nomena, came no nearer to the real solution of
them. The mysterious "why?" remained un-
touched. . . . All their analyses could only
darken with big words the plain fact that the
water hated the oil with which it refused to mix,
200 Hypatia
the lime loved the acid which it eagerly received
into itself, and, like a lover, grew warm with
the rapture of affection. Why not? What right
had we to deny sensation, emotion, to them, any
more than to ourselves? Was not the same uni-
versal spirit stirring in them as in us? And was
it not by virtue of that spirit that we thought,
and felt, and loved? Then why not they, as
well as we? If the one spirit permeated all
things, if its all-energizing presence linked the
flower with the crystal as well as with the demon
and the god, must it not link together also the
two extremes of the great chain of being? bind
even the nameless One itself to the smallest
creature which bore its creative impress? What
greater miracle in the attraction of a god or
an angel, by material incense, symbols, and spells,
than in the attraction of one soul to another
by the material sounds of the human voice?
Was the affinity between spirit and matter im-
plied in that, more miraculous than the affinity
between the soul and the body? than the re-
tention of that soul within that body by the
breathing of material air, the eating of material
food ? Or even, if the physicists were right,
and the soul were but a material product or
energy of the nerves, and the sole law of the
universe the laws of matter, then was not magic
even more probable, more rational? Was it not
fair by every analogy to suppose that there might
be other, higher beings than ourselves, obedient
to those laws, and therefore possible to be at-
tracted, even as human beings were, by the baits
of material sights and sounds? . . . If spirit per-
vaded all things, then was magic probable; if
Seeking After a Sign 201
nothing but matter had existence, magic was
morally certain. All that remained in either case
was the test of experience. . . . And had not
that test been applied in every age, and asserted
to succeed? What more rational, more philo-
sophic action than to try herself those methods
and ceremonies which she was assured on every
hand had never failed but through the ignorance
or unfitness of the neophyte ? . . . Abamnon must
be right. . . . She dared not think him wrong:
for if this last hope failed, what was there left but
to eat and drink, for to-morrow we die?
CHAPTER XXVI
MIRIAM'S PLOT
HE who has worshipped a woman, even against
his will and conscience, knows well how
storm may follow storm, and earthquake earth-
quake, before his idol be utterly overthrown. And
so Philammon found that evening, as he sat pon-
dering over the strange chances of the day; for,
as he pondered, his old feelings towards Hypatia
began, in spite of the struggles of his conscience
and reason, to revive within him. Not only pure
love of her great loveliness, the righteous instinct
which bids us welcome and honor beauty, whether
in man or woman, as something of real worth
divine, heavenly, ay, though we know not how, in
a most deep sense eternal ; which makes our rea-
son give the lie to all merely logical and senti-
mental maunderings of moralists about " the fleet-
ing hues of this our painted clay ; " telling men, as
the old Hebrew Scriptures tell them, that physical
beauty is the deepest of all spiritual symbols ; and
that though beauty without discretion be the jewel
of gold in the swine's snout, yet. the jewel of gold
it is still, the sacrament of an inward beauty, which
ought to be, perhaps hereafter may be, fulfilled in
spirit and in truth. Not only this, which whis-
pered to him and who shall say that the whisper
was of the earth, or of the lower world? " She
is too beautiful to be utterly evil ; " but the very
Miriam's Plot 203
defect in her creed which he had just discovered,
drew him towards her again. She had no Gospel
for the Magdalene, because she was a pagan. . . .
That, then, was the fault of her paganism, not of
herself. She felt for Pelagia : but even if she had
not, was not that, too, the fault of her paganism?
And for that paganism who was to be blamed?
She? . . . Was he the man to affirm that? Had
he not seen scandals, stupidities, brutalities, enough
to shake even his faith, educated a Christian?
How much more excuse for her, more delicate,
more acute, more lofty than he ; the child, too, of
a heathen father? Her perfections, were they not
her own? her defects, those of her circum-
stances? . . . And had she not welcomed him,
guarded him, taught him, honored him? . . .
Could he turn against her? above all now in her
distress perhaps her danger? Was he not bound
to her, if by nothing else, by gratitude? Was not
he, of all men, bound to believe that all she re-
quired to make her perfect was conversion to
the true faith? . . . And that first dream of con-
verting her arose almost as bright as ever. . . .
Then he was checked by the thought of his first
utter failure. ... At least, if he could not con-
vert her, he could love her, pray for her. . . . No,
he could not even do that; for to whom could he
pray? He had to repent, to be forgiven, to hum-
ble himself by penitence, perhaps for years, ere he
could hope to be heard even for himself, much less
for another. . . . And so backwards and forwards
swayed his hope and purpose, till he was rotised
from his meditation by the voice of the little por-
ter summoning him to his evening meal; and
recollecting, for the first time, that he had tasted
204 Hypatia
no food that day, he went down, half-unwillingly,
and ate.
But as he, the porter, and his negro wife were
sitting silently and sadly enough together, Miriam
came in, apparently in high good humor, and
lingered a moment on her way to her own apart-
ments upstairs.
" Eh ? At supper ? And nothing but lentils and
watermelons, when the flesh-pots of Egypt have
been famous any time these two thousand years.
Ah ! but times are changed since then ! . . . You
have worn out the old Hebrew hints, you miser-
able Gentiles you, and got a Caesar instead of a
Joseph ! Hist, you hussies ! " cried she to the
girls upstairs, clapping her hands loudly. " Here !
bring us down one of those roast chickens, and a
bottle of the wine of wines the wine with the green
seal, you careless daughters of Midian, you, with
your wits running on the men, I '11 warrant, every
minute I Ve been out of the house ! Ah, you '11
smart for it some day you '11 smart for it some
day, you daughters of Adam's first wife ! "
Down came, by the hands of one of the Syrian
slave-girls, the fowl and the wine.
"There, now; we'll all sup together. Wine,
that maketh glad the heart of man ! Youth, you
were a monk once, so you have read all about
that, eh? and about the best wine which goes
down sweetly, causing the lips of them that are
asleep to speak. And rare wine it was, I warrant,
which the blessed Solomon had in his little coun-
try cellar up there in Lebanon. We '11 try if this
is not a very fair substitute for it, though. Come,
my little man-monkey, drink and forget your sor-
row ! You shall be temple-sweeper to Beelzebub
Miriam's Plot 205
yet, I promise you. Look at it there, creaming
and curdling, the darling ! purring like a cat at
the very thought of touching human lips! As
sweet as honey, as strong as fire, as clear as amber !
Drink, ye children of Gehenna; and make good
use of the little time that is left you between this
and the unquenchable fire ! "
And tossing a cup of it down her own throat, as
if it had been water, she watched her companions
with a meaning look, as they drank.
The little porter followed her example gallantly.
Philammon looked, and longed, and sipped blush-
ingly and bashfully, and tried to fancy that he did
not care for it; and sipped again, being willing
enough to forget his sorrow also for a moment;
the n egress refused with fear and trembling:
"She had a vow on her."
" Satan possess you and your vow ! Drink, you
coal out of Tophet! Do you think it is poisoned?
You, the only creature in the world that I should
not enjoy ill using, because every one else ill-uses
you already without my help ! Drink, I say, or
I '11 turn you pea-green from head to foot ! "
The negress put the cup to her lips, and con-
trived, for her own reasons, to spill the contents
unobserved.
" A very fine lecture that of the Lady Hypatia's
the other morning, on Helen's nepenthe," quoth
the little porter, growing philosophic as the wine-
fumes rose. " Such a power of extracting the
cold water of philosophy out of the bottomless
pit of Mythus, I never did hear. Did you ever,
my Philammonidion?"
" Aha ! she and I were talking about that half-
an-hour ago," said Miriam.
206 Hypatia
"What! have you seen her? "asked Philammon,
with a flutter of the heart.
" If you mean, did she mention you, why,
then, yes ! " '
"How? how?"
" Talked of a young Phoebus Apollo without
mentioning names, certainly, but in the most sen-
sible, and practical, and hopeful way the wisest
speech that I have heard from her this twelve-
month."
Philammon blushed scarlet.
"And that," thought he, "in spite of what
passed this morning ! Why, what is the matter
with our host?"
" He has taken Solomon's advice, and forgotten
his sorrow."
And so, indeed, he had; for he was sleeping
sweetly, with open lacklustre eyes, and a maudlin
smile at the ceiling? while the negreas, with her
head fallen on her chest, seemed equally uncon-
scious of their presence.
" We '11 see," quoth Miriam ; and taking up the
lamp, she held the flame unceremoniously to the
arm of each of them; but neither winced nor
stirred.
" Surely your wine is not drugged? " said Phil-
ammon, in trepidation.
"Why not? What has made them beasts, may
make us angels. You seem none the less lively
for it! Do I?"
" But drugged wine? "
"Why not? The same who made wine made
poppy-juice. Both will make man happy. Why
not use both? "
" It is poison ! "
Miriam's Plot 207
" It is the nepenthe, as I told Hypatia, whereof
she was twaddling mysticism, this morning. Drink,
child, drink ! I have no mind to put you to sleep
to-night ! I want to make a man of you, or rather,
to see whether you are one ! "
And she drained another cup, and then went on,
half talking to herself:
"Ay, it is poison; and music is poison; and
woman is poison, according to the new creed,
pagan and Christian; and wine will be poison,
and meat will be poison, some day; and we
shall have a world full of mad Nebuchadnezzars,
eating grass like oxen. It is poisonous, and
brutal, and devilish, to be a man, and not a
monk, and an eunuch, and a dry branch. You
are all in the same lie, Christians and philosophers,
Cyril and Hypatia ! Don't interrupt me, but drink,
young fool ! Ay, and the only man who keeps
his manhood, the only man who is not ashamed
to be what God has made him, is your Jew. You
will find yourselves in want of him after all, some
day, you besotted Gentiles, to bring you back to
common sense and common manhood. In want
of him and his grand old books, which you despise
while you make idols of them, about Abraham,
and Jacob, and Moses, and David, and Solomon,
whom you call saints, you miserable hypocrites,
though they did what you are too dainty to do,
and had their wives and their children, and
thanked God for a beautiful woman, as Adam
did before them, and their sons do after them
Drink, I say and believed that God had
really made the world, and not the devil, and
had given them the lordship over it, as you will
find out to your cost some day ! "
2o8 Hypatia
Philammon heard, and could not answer; and
on she rambled.
" And music, too? Our priests were not afraid
of sackbut and psaltery, dulcimer and trumpet,
in the house of the Lord; for they knew who
had given them the cunning to make them. Our
prophets were not afraid of calling for music, when
they wished to prophesy, and letting it soften and
raise their souls, and open and quicken them till
they saw into the inner harmony of things, and
beheld the future in the present; for they knew
who made the melody and harmony, and made
them the outward symbols of the inward song
which runs through sun and stars, storm and
tempest, fulfilling His word in that these sham
philosophers the heathen are wiser than those
Christian monks. Try it ! try it ! Come with
me! Leave these sleepers here, and come to
my rooms. You long to be as wise as Solomon.
Then get at wisdom as Solomon did, and give
your heart first to know folly and madness. . . .
You have read the Book of the Preacher ? "
Poor Philammon ! He was no longer master
of himself. The arguments the wine the ter-
rible spell of the old woman's voice and eye, and
the strong overpowering will which showed out
through them, dragged him along in spite of
himself. As if in a dream, he followed her up
the stairs.
" There, throw away that stupid, ugly, shapeless,
philosopher's cloak So ! You have on the white
tunic I gave you ? And now you look as a human
being should. And you have been to the baths
to-day? Well you have the comfort of feeling
now like other people, and having that alabaster
Miriam's Plot 209
skin as white as it was created, instead of being
tanned like a brute's hide. Drink, I say ! Ay
what was that face, that figure made for? Bring
a mirror here, hussy ! There, look in that, and
judge for yourself! Were those lips rounded for
nothing? Why were those eyes set in your head,
and made to sparkle bright as jewels, sweet as
mountain honey? Why were those curls laid
ready for soft fingers to twine themselves among
them, and look all the whiter among the glossy
black knots? Judge for yourself! "
Alas ! poor Philammon !
" And after all," thought he, " is it not true, as
well as pleasant? "
" Sing to the poor boy, girls ! sing to him !
and teach him for the first time in his little ig-
norant life, the old road to inspiration ! "
One of the slave-girls sat down on the divan,
and took up a double flute ; while the other rose,
and accompanying the plaintive dreamy air with
a slow dance, and delicate twinklings of her silver
armlets and anklets, and the sistrum which she
held aloft, she floated gracefully round and round
the floor and sang:
Why were we born but for bliss ?
Why are we ripe, but to fall ?
Dream not that duty can bar thee from beauty,
Like water and sunshine, the heirloom of all.
Lips were made only to kiss ;
Hands were made only to toy ;
Eyes were made only to lure on the lonely,
The longing, the loving, and drown them in joy !
Alas, for poor Philammon ! And yet no ! The
very poison brought with it its own antidote ; and,
2io Hypatia
shaking off by one strong effort of will the spell
of the music and the wine, he sprang to his
feet. . . .
" Never ! If love means no more than that
if it is to be a mere delicate self-indulgence, worse
than the brute's, because it requires the prostra-
tion of nobler faculties, and a selfishness the more
huge in proportion to the greatness of the soul
.which is crushed inward by it then I will have
none of it ! I have had my dream yes ! but it
was of one who should be at once my teacher and
my pupil, my debtor and my queen who should
lean on me, and yet support me supply my de-
fects, although with lesser light, as the old moon
fills up the circle of the new labor with me side by
side in some great work rising with me for ever
as I rose : and this is the base substitute ! Never !"
Whether or not this was unconsciously forced
into words by the vehemence of his passion, or
whether the old Jewess heard, or pretended to
hear, a footstep coming up the stair, she at all
events sprang instantly to her feet.
"Hist ! Silence, girls ! I hear a visitor. What
mad maiden has come to beg a love-charm of the
poor old witch at this time of night ?. Or have the
Christian bloodhounds tracked the old lioness of
Judah to her den at last. We'll see !"
And she drew a dagger from her girdle, and
stepped boldly to the door.
As she went out she turned :
"So! my brave young Apollo! You do not
admire simple woman? You must have some-
thing more learned and intellectual and spiritual,
and so forth. I wonder whether Eve, when she
came to Adam in the garden, brought with her
Miriam's Plot 211
a certificate of proficiency in the seven sciences?
Well, well like must after like. Perhaps we
shall be able to suit you after all. Vanish, daugh-
ters of Midian ! "
The girls vanished accordingly, whispering and
laughing; and Philammon found himself alone.
Although he was somewhat soothed by the old
woman's last speech, yet a sense of terror, of
danger, of coming temptation, kept him standing
sternly on his feet, looking warily round the
chamber, lest a fresh siren should emerge from
behind some curtain or heap of pillows.
On one side of the room he perceived a door-
way, filled by a curtain of gauze, from behind
which came the sound of whispering voices. His
fear, growing with the general excitement of his
mind, rose into anger as he began to suspect some
snare; and he faced round towards the curtain,
and stood like a wild beast at bay, ready, with
uplifted arm, for all evil spirits, male or female.
" And he will show himself? How shall I accost
him ? " whispered a well-known voice could it
be Hypatia's ? And then the guttural Hebrew ac-
cent of the old woman answered :
"As you spoke of him this morning "
"Oh! I will tell him all, and he must he
must have mercy! But he? so awful, so
glorious ! "
What the answer was, he could not hear: but
the next moment a sweet heavy scent, as of nar-
cotic gums, filled the room mutterings of in-
cantations and then a blaze of light, in which
the curtain vanished, and disclosed to his astonished
eyes, enveloped in a glory of luminous smoke, the
hag standing by a tripod, and, kneeling by her,
Vol. 710
212 Hypatia
Hypatia herself, robed in pure white, glittering
with diamonds and gold, her lips parted, her head
thrown back, her arms stretched out in an agony
of expectation.
In an instant, before he had time to stir, she had
sprung through the blaze, and was kneeling at his
feet.
" Phoebus ! beautiful, glorious, ever young !
Hear me ! only a moment ! only this once ! "
Her drapery had caught fire from the tripod,
but she did not heed it. Philammon instinctively
clasped her in his arms, and crushed it out, as she
cried :
" Have mercy on me ! Tell me the secret ! I
will obey thee ! I have no self I am thy slave !
Kill me, if thou wilt : but speak ! "
The blaze sank into a soft, warm, mellow gleam,
and beyond it what appeared?
The negro-woman, with one finger upon her
lips, as with an imploring, all but despairing, look,
she held up to him her little crucifix.
He saw it. What thoughts flashed through him,
like the lightning bolt, at that blessed sign of in-
finite self-sacrifice, I say not; let those who know
it judge for themselves. But in another instant
he had spurned from him the poor deluded maiden,
whose idolatrous ecstasies he saw instantly were
not meant for himself, and rushed desperately
across the room, looking for an outlet.
He found a door in the darkness a room a
window and in another moment he had leapt
twenty feet into the street, rolled over, bruised and
bleeding, rose again like an Antaeus, with new
strength, and darted off towards the archbishop's
house.
Miriam's Plot 2 1 3
And poor Hypatia lay half senseless on the
floor, with the Jewess watching her bitter tears
not merely of disappointment, but of utter shame.
For as Philammon fled she had recognized those
well-known features ; and the veil was lifted from
her eyes, and the hope and the self-respect of
Theon's daughter were gone for ever.
Her righteous wrath was too deep for upbraid-
ings. Slowly she rose; returned into the inner
room; wrapped her cloak deliberately around
her; and went silently away, with one look at
the Jewess of solemn scorn and defiance.
" Ah ! I can afford a few sulky looks to-night ! "
said the old woman to herself, with a smile, as she
picked up from the floor the prize for which she
had been plotting so long Raphael's half of the
black agate.
" I wonder whether she will miss it ! Perhaps
she will have no fancy for its company any
longer, now that she has discovered what over-
palpable archangels appear when she rubs it.
But if she does try to recover it ... why let
her try her strength with mine : or, rather, with
a Christian mob."
And then, drawing from her bosom the other
half of the talisman, she fitted the two pieces to-
gether again and again, fingering them over, and
poring upon them with tear-brimming eyes, till
she had satisfied herself that the fracture still
fitted exactly; while she murmured to herself
from time to time : " Oh, that he were here !
Oh, that he would return now now! It may
be too late to-morrow ! Stay I will go and con-
sult the teraph ; it may know where he is. . . ."
And she departed to her incantations; while
214 Hypatia
Hypatia threw herself upon her bed at home, and
filled the chamber with a long, low wailing, as of
a child in pain, until the dreary dawn broke on
her shame and her despair. And then she rose,
and rousing herself for one great effort, calmly
prepared a last oration, in which she intended to
bid farewell for ever to Alexandria and to the
schools.
Philammon meanwhile was striding desperately
up the main street which led towards the Sera-
peium. But he was not destined to arrive there
as soon as he had hoped to do. For ere he had
gone half a mile, behold a crowd advancing to-
wards him blocking up the whole street.
The mass seemed endless. Thousands of torches
flared above their heads, and from the heart of the
procession rose a solemn chant, in which Philam-
mon soon recognized a well-known Catholic hymn.
He was half-minded to turn up some by-street,
and escape meeting them. But on attempting to
do so, he found every avenue which he tried simi-
larly blocked up by a tributary stream of people ;
and, almost ere he was aware, was entangled in
the vanguard of the great column.
" Let me pass ! " cried he, in a voice of entreaty.
"Pass, thou heathen?"
In vain he protested his Christianity.
" Origenist, Donatist, heretic ! Whither should
a good Catholic be going to-night, save to the
Caesareium? "
" My friends, my friends, I have no business at
the Caesareium ! " cried he, in utter despair. " I
am on my way to seek a private interview with
the patriarch, on matters of importance."
" Oh, liar ! who pretends to be known to the
Miriam's Plot 21 $
patriarch, and yet is ignorant that this night he
visits at the Caesareium the most sacred corpse
of the martyr Ammonius ! "
" What ! Is Cyril with you ? "
" He and all his clergy."
" Better so ; better in public," said Philammon
to himself; and, turning, he joined the crowd.
Onward, with chant and dirge, they swept out
through the Sun-gate, upon the harbor esplanade,
and wheeled to the right along the quay, while
the torchlight bathed in a red glare the great front
of the Caesareium, and the tall obelisks before it,
and the masts of the thousand ships which lay in
the harbor on their left; and last, but not least,
before the huge dim mass of the palace which
bounded the esplanade in front, a long line of
glittering helmets and cuirasses, behind a barrier
of cables which stretched from the shore to the
corner of the Museum.
There was a sudden halt ; a low ominous growl ;
and then the mob pressed onward from behind,
surged up almost to the barrier. The soldiers
dropped the points of their lances, and stood firm.
Again the mob recoiled; again surged forward
Fierce cries arose; some of the boldest stooped
to pick up stones : but, luckily, the pavement was
too firm for them. . . . Another moment, and the
whole soldiery of Alexandria would have been
fighting for life and death against fifty thousand
Christians. . . .
But Cyril had not forgotten his generalship.
Reckless as that night's events proved him to be
about arousing the passions of his subjects, he
was yet far too wary to risk the odium and the
danger of a night attack, which, even if successful,
2 1 6 Hypatia
would have cost the lives of hundreds. He knew
well enough the numbers and the courage of the
enemy, and the certainty that, in case of a colli-
sion, no quarter would be given or accepted on
either side. . . . Beside, if a battle must take place
and that, of course, must happen sooner or
later it must not happen in his presence and
under his sanction. He was in the right now, and
Orestes in the wrong ; and in the right he would
keep at least till his express to Byzantium
should have returned, and Orestes was either pro-
scribed or superseded. So looking forward to
some such chance as this, the wary prelate had
schooled his aides-de-camp, the deacons of the
city, and went on his way up the steps of the
Caesareium, knowing that they could be trusted
to keep the peace outside.
And they did their work well. Before a blow
had been struck, or even an insult passed on either
side, they had burst through the front rank of the
mob, and by stout threats of excommunication,
enjoined not only peace, but absolute silence un-
til the sacred ceremony which was about to take
place should be completed; and enforced theif
commands by marching up and down like sentries
between the hostile ranks for the next weary two
hours, till the very soldiers broke out into expres-
sions of admiration, and the tribune of the cohort,
who had no great objection, but also no great
wish, to fight, paid them a high-flown compliment
on their laudable endeavors to maintain public
order and received the somewhat ambiguous reply,
that the " weapons of their warfare were not carnal,
that they wrestled not against flesh and blood, but
against principalities and powers," ... an answer
Miriam's Plot 217
which the tribune, being now somewhat sleepy,
thought it best to leave unexplained.
In the meanwhile, there had passed up the steps
of the Temple a gorgeous line of priests, among
whom glittered, more gorgeous than all, the stately
figure of the pontiff. They were followed close
by thousands of monks, not only from Alexandria
and Nitria, but from all the adjoining towns and
monasteries. And as Philammon, unable for some
half-hour more to force his way into the church,
watched their endless stream, he could well believe
the boast which he had so often heard in Alex-
andria, that one-half of the population of Egypt
was at that moment in " religious orders."
After the monks, the laity began to enter : but
even then so vast was the crowd, and so dense the
crush upon the steps, that before he could force
his way into the church, Cyril's sermon had begun.
"What went ye out for to see? A man
clothed in soft raiment? Nay, such are in king's
palaces, and in the palaces of prefects who would
needs be emperors, and cast away the Lord's
bonds from them, of whom it is written, that He
that sitteth in the heavens laugheth them to scorn,
and taketh the wicked in their own snare, and
maketh the devices of princes of none effect. Ay,
in king's palaces, and in theatres too, where the
rich of this world, poor in faith, deny their cove-
nant, and defile their baptismal robes that they
may do honor to the devourers of the earth.
Woe to them who think that they may partake of
the cup of the Lord and the cup of devils. Woe
to them who will praise with the same mouth
Aphrodite the fiend, and her of whom it is writtea
2 1 8 Hypatia
that He was born of a pure Virgin. Let such be
excommunicate from the cup of the Lord, and
from the congregation of the Lord, till they have
purged away their sins by penance and by alms-
giving. But for you, ye poor of this world, rich
in faith, you whom the rich despise, hale before
the judgment seats, and blaspheme that holy name
whereby ye are called what went ye out into
the wilderness to see? A prophet? Ay, and
more than a prophet a martyr ! More than a
prophet, more than a king, more than a prefect:
whose theatre was the sands of the desert, whose
throne was the cross, whose crown was bestowed,
not by heathen philosophers and daughters of
Satan, deceiving men with the works of their
fathers, but by angels and archangels ; a crown of
glory, the victor's laurel, which grows for ever in
the paradise of the highest heaven. Call him no
more Ammonius, call him Thaumasius, wonderful !
Wonderful in his poverty, wonderful in his zeal,
wonderful in his faith, wonderful in his fortitude,
wonderful in his death, most wonderful in the
manner of that death. Oh, thrice blessed, who
has merited the honor of the cross itself! What
can follow, but that one so honored in the flesh
should also be honored in the life which he now
lives, and that from the virtue of these thrice-holy
limbs the leper should be cleansed, the dumb
should speak, the very dead be raised ? Yes ; it
were impiety to doubt it. Consecrated by the
cross, this flesh shall not only rest in hope but
work in power. Approach, and be healed ! Ap-
proach, and see the glory of the saints, the glory
of the poor. Approach, and learn that that which
man despises, God hath highly esteemed ; that that
Miriam's Plot 219
which man rejects, God accepts ; that that which
man punishes, God rewards. Approach, and see
how God hath chosen the foolish things of this
world to confound the wise, and the weak things
of this world to confound the strong. Man abhors
the cross : The Son of God condescended to en-
dure it ! Man tramples on the poor : The Son of
God hath not where to lay His head. Man passes
by the sick as useless : The Son of God chooses
them to be partakers of His sufferings, that the
glory of God may be made manifest in them.
Man curses the publican, while he employs him
to fill his coffers with the plunder of the poor:
The Son of God calls him from the receipt of cus-
toms to be an apostle, higher than the kings of the
earth. Man casts away the harlot like a faded
flower, when he has tempted her to become the
slave of sin for a season: and the Son of God
calls her, the defiled, the despised, the forsaken,
to Himself, accepts her tears, blesses her offering,
and declares that her sins are forgiven, for she
hath loved much ; while to whom little is forgiven
the same loveth little." . . .
Philammon heard no more. With the passion-
ate and impulsive nature of a Greek fanatic, he
burst forward through the crowd, towards the
steps which led to the choir, and above which, in
front of the altar, stood the corpse of Ammonius,
enclosed in a coffin of glass, beneath a gorgeous
canopy ; and never stopping till he found himself
in front of Cyril's pulpit, he threw himself upon
his face upon the pavement, spread out his arms
in the form of a cross, and lay silent and motion-
less before the feet of the multitude.
There was a sudden whisper and rustle in the
220 Hypatia
congregation ; but Cyril, after a moment's pause,
went on:
" Man, in his pride and self-sufficiency, despises
humiliation, and penance, and the broken and the
contrite heart; and tells thee that only as long as
thou doest well unto thyself will he speak well of
thee: the Son of God says that he that humbleth
himself, even as this our penitent brother, he it is
who shall be exalted. He it is of whom it is writ-
ten that his father saw him afar off, and ran to
meet him, and bade put the best robe on him, and
a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet, and
make merry and be glad with the choir of angels
who rejoice over one sinner that repenteth. Arise,
my son, whosoever thou art ; and go in peace for
this night, remembering that he who said, ' My
belly cleaveth unto the pavement,' hath also said,
' Rejoice not against me, Satan, mine enemy, for
when I fall I shall arise!'"
A thunderclap of applause, surely as pardonable
as any an Alexandrian church ever heard, followed
this dexterous, and yet most righteous, turn of the
patriarch's oratory: but Philammon raised him-
self slowly and fearfully to his knees, and blushing
scarlet endured the gaze of ten thousand eyes.
Suddenly, from beside the pulpit, an old man
sprang forward, and clasped him round the neck.
It was Arsenius.
" My son ! my son ! " sobbed he, almost aloud.
" Slave, as well as son, if you will ! " whispered
Philammon. "One boon from the patriarch; and
then home to the Laura for ever ! "
" Oh, twice-blest night," rolled on above the
deep rich voice of Cyril, " which beholds at once
the coronation of a martyr and the conversion of
Miriam's Plot 221
a sinner; which increases at the same time the
ranks of the church triumphant, and of the church
militant; and pierces celestial essences with a
twofold rapture of thanksgiving, as they welcome
on high a victorious, and on earth a repentant,
brother!"
And at a sign from Cyril, Peter the Reader
stepped forward, and led away, gently enough,
the two weepers, who were welcomed, as they
passed, by the blessings, and prayers, and tears
even of those fierce fanatics of Nitria. Nay, Peter
himself, as he turned to leave them together in
the sacristy, held out his hand to Philammon.
" I ask your forgiveness," said the poor boy,
who plunged eagerly and with a sort of delight
into any and every self-abasement.
"And I accord it," quoth Peter; and returned
to the church, looking, and probably feeling, in a
far more pleasant mood than usual.
CHAPTER XXVH
THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN
ABOUT ten o'clock the next morning, as
Hypatia, worn out with sleepless sorrow,
was trying to arrange her thoughts for the farewell
lecture, her favorite maid announced that a mes-
senger from Synesius waited below. A letter
from Synesius? A gleam of hope flashed across
her mind. From him, surely, might come some-
thing of comfort, of advice. Ah ! if he only knew
how sorely she was bested !
" Let him send up his letter."
"He refuses to deliver it to any one but your-
self. And I think," added the damsel, who had,
to tell the truth, at that moment in her purse a
substantial reason for so thinking "I think it
might be worth your ladyship's while to see him."
Hypatia shook her head impatiently.
" He seems to know you well, madam, though
he refuses to tell his name : but he bade me put
you in mind of a black agate I cannot tell what
he meant of a black agate, and a spirit which
was to appear when you rubbed it."
Hypatia turned pale as death. Was it Philam-
mon again? She felt for the talisman it was
gone ! She must have lost it last night in Miriam's
chamber. Now she saw the true purpose of the
old hag's plot . . . deceived, tricked, doubly
tricked ! And what new plot was this?
The Prodigal's Return 223
"Tell him to leave the letter, and begone . . .
My father? What? Who is this? Whom are
you bringing to me at such a moment?"
And as she spoke, Theon ushered into the
chamber no other than Raphael Aben-Ezra, and
then retired.
He advanced slowly towards her, and falling on
one knee, placed in her hand Synesius's letter.
Hypatia trembled from head to foot at the un-
expected apparition. . . . Well ; at least he could
know nothing of last night and its disgrace. But
not daring to look him in the face, she took the
letter and opened it. ... If she had hoped for
comfort from it, her hope was not realized.
" Synesius to the Philosopher :
" Even if Fortune cannot take from me all things, yet
what she can take she will. And yet of two things, at
least, she shall not rob me to prefer that which is
best, and to succor the oppressed. Heaven forbid that
she should overpower my judgment, as well as the rest
of me ! Therefore I do hate injustice ; for that I can
do ; and my will is to stop it ; but the power to do so
is among the things of which she has bereaved me
before, too, she bereaved me of my children. . .
" ' Once, in old times, Milesian men were strong.'
And there was a time when I, too, was a comfort to my
friends, and when you used to call me a blessing to
every one except myself, as I squandered for the benefit
of others the favor with which the great regarded
me. . . . My hands they were then. . . . But now I
am left desolate of all ; unless you have any power. For
you and virtue I count among those good things, of
which none can deprive me. But you always have
224 Hypatia
power, and will have it, surely, now using it as nobly
as you do.
"As for Nicaeus and Philolaus, two noble youths, and
kinsmen of my own, let it be the business of all who
honor you, both private men and magistrates, to see that
they return possessors of their just rights." l
" Of all who honor me ! " said she, with a
bitter sigh: and then looked up quickly at
Raphael, as if fearful of having betrayed herself.
She turned deadly pale. In his eyes was a look
of solemn pity, which told her that he knew not
all ? surely not all ?
" Have you seen the Miriam ? " gasped she,
rushing desperately at that which she most
dreaded.
" Not yet. I arrived but one hour ago ; and
Hypatia's welfare is still more important to me
than my own."
" My welfare? It is gone ! "
" So much the better. I never found mine till
I lost it."
" What do you mean? "
Raphael lingered, yet without withdrawing his
gaze, as if he had something of importance to say,
which he longed and yet feared to utter. At
last:
"At least, you will confess that I am better
drest than when we met last. I have returned,
you see, like a certain demoniac of Gadara, about
whom we used to argue, clothed and perhaps
also in my right mind. . . . God knows ! "
"Raphael! are you come here to mock me?
You know you cannot have been here an hoar
* An authentic letter of Synesius to Hypatia.
The Prodigal's Return 225
without knowing that but yesterday I dreamed
of being " and she drooped her eyes " an
empress; that to-day I am ruined; to-morrow,
perhaps, proscribed. Have you no speech for
me but your old sarcasms and ambiguities?"
Raphael stood silent and motionless.
"Why do you not speak? What is the mean-
ing of this sad, earnest look, so different from your
former self? . . . You have something strange to
tell me!"
" I have," said he, speaking very slowly. " What
what would Hypatia answer if, after all, Aben-
Ezra said like the dying Julian, ' The Galilean has
conquered'?"
" Julian never said it ! It is a monkish
calumny."
" But I say it."
" Impossible 1"
" I say it ! "
"As your dying speech? The true Raphael
Aben-Ezra, then, lives no more ! "
" But he may be born again."
" And die to philosophy, that he may be born
again into barbaric superstition! Oh worthy
metempsychosis ! Farewell, sir ! " And she rose
to go.
" Hear me ! hear me patiently this once,
noble, beloved Hypatia! One more sneer of
yours, and I may become again the same case-
hardened fiend which you knew me of old to
all, at least, but you. Oh, do not think me
ungrateful, forgetful! What do I not owe to
you, whose pure and lofty words alone kept
smouldering in me the dim remembrance that
there was a .Right, a Truth, an unseen world of
226 Hypatia
spirits, after whose pattern man should aspire to
live?"
She paused, and listened in wonder. What
faith had she of her own? She would at least
hear what he had found. . . .
"Hypatia, I am older than you wiser than
you, if wisdom be the fruit of the tree of knowl-
edge. You know but one side of the medal,
Hypatia, and the fairer; I have seen its reverse
as well as its obverse. Through every form of
human thought, of human action, of human sin
and folly, have I been wandering for years, and
found no rest as little in wisdom as in folly, in
spiritual dreams as in sensual brutality. I could
not rest in your Platonism I will tell you why
hereafter. I went on to Stoicism, Epicurism,
Cynicism, Skepticism, and in that lowest deep I
found a lower depth, when I became skeptical of
Skepticism itself."
" There is a lower deep still," thought Hypatia
to herself, as she recollected last night's magic;
but she did not speak.
"Then in utter abasement, I confessed myself
lower than the brutes, who had a law, and obeyed
it, while I was my own lawless god, devil, harpy,
whirlwind. ... I needed even my own dog to
awaken in me the brute consciousness of my own
existence, or of anything without myself. I took
her, the dog, for my teacher, and obeyed her, for
she was wiser than I. And she led me back
the poor dumb beast like a God-sent and God-
obeying angel, to human nature, to mercy, to
self-sacrifice, to belief, to worship to pure and
wedded love."
Hypatia started. . . . And in the struggle to
The Prodigal's Return 227
hide her own bewilderment, answered almost with-
out knowing it :
"Wedded love? . . . Wedded love? Is that,
then, the paltry bait by which Raphael Aben-Ezra
has been tempted to desert philosophy? "
" Thank Heaven ! " said Raphael to himself.
" She does not care for me, then ! If she had,
pride would have kept her from that sneer." " Yes,
my dear lady," answered he, aloud, " to desert
philosophy, to search after wisdom ; because wis-
dom itself had sought for me, and found me.
But, indeed, I had hoped that you would have
approved of my following your example for once
in my life, and resolving, like you, to enter into
the estate of wedlock."
" Do not sneer at me ! " cried she, in her turn,
looking up at him with shame and horror, which
made him repent of uttering the words. " If you
do not know you will soon, too soon ! Never
mention that hateful dream to me, if you wish to
have speech of me more I "
A pang of remorse shot through Raphael's
heart. Who but he himself had plotted that evil
marriage? But she gave him no opportunity of
answering her, and went on hurriedly:
" Speak to me rather about yourself. What
is this strange and sudden betrothal? What has
it to do with Christianity! I had thought that
it was rather by the glories of celibacy gross
and superstitious as their notions of it are that
the Galileans tempted their converts."
" So had I, my dearest lady," answered he, as,
glad to turn the subject for 8. moment, and per-
haps a little nettled by her contemptuous tone,
he resumed something of his old arch and careless
228 Hypatia
manner. " But there is no accounting for man's
agreeable inconsistencies one morning I found
myself, to my astonishment, seized by two bishops,
and betrothed, whether I chose or not, to a young
lady who but a few days before had been destined
for a nunnery."
" Two bishops ? "
" I speak simple truth. The one was Synesius
of course ; that most incoherent and most be-
nevolent of busybodies chose to betray me behind
my back : but I will not trouble you with that
part of my story. The real wonder is, that the
other episcopal match-maker was Augustine of
Hippo himself! "
"Anything to bribe a convert," said Hypatia,
contemptuously.
" I assure you, no. He informed me, and her
also, openly and uncivilly enough, that he thought
us very much to be pitied for so great a fall. . . .
But as we neither of us seemed to have any call
for the higher life of celibacy, he could not press
it on us. ... We should have trouble in the flesh.
But if we married we had not sinned. To which
I answered that my humility was quite content to
sit in the very lowest ranks, with Abraham, Isaac,
and Jacob. ... He replied by an encomium on
virginity, in which I seemed to hear again the
voice of Hypatia herself."
"And sneered at it inwardly, as you used to
sneer at me."
" Really I was in no sneering mood at that
moment ; and whatsoever I may have felt inclined
to reply, he was kind enough to say for me and
himself the next minute."
" What do you mean?"
The Prodigal's Return 229
"He went on, to my utter astonishment, by
such an eulogium on wedlock as I never heard
from Jew or heathen, and ended by advice to
young married folk so thoroughly excellent and to
the point, that I could not help telling him, when
he stopped, what a pity I thought it that he had
not himself married, and made some good woman
happy by putting his own recipes into practice
... and at that, Hypatia, I saw an expression on
his face which made me wish for the moment that
I had bitten out this impudent tongue of mine,
before I so rashly touched some deep old wound.
. . . That man has wept bitter tears ere now, be
sure of it. ... But he turned the conversation
instantly, like a well-bred gentleman as he is, by
saying, with the sweetest smile, that though he
had made it a solemn rule never to be a party
to making up any marriage, yet in our case
Heaven had so plainly pointed us out for each
other, etc., etc., that he could not refuse himself
the pleasure . . . and ended by a blessing as
kindly as ever came from the lips of man."
" You seem wonderfully taken with the sophist
of Hippo," said Hypatia, impatiently ; " and for-
get, perhaps, that his opinions, especially when,
as you confess, they are utterly inconsistent with
themselves, are not quite as important to me as
they seem to have become to you."
"Whether he be consistent or not about mar-
riage," said Raphael, somewhat proudly, "I care
little. I went to him to tell me, not about the
relation of the sexes, on which point I am proba-
bly as good a judge as he but about God ; and
on that subject he told me enough to bring me
back to Alexandria, that I might undo, if possible,
230 Hypatia
somewhat of the wrong which I have done to
Hypatia."
"What wrong have you done me? . . . You
are silent? Be sure, at least, that whatsoever it
may be, you will not wipe it out by trying to
make a proselyte of me ! "
" Be not too sure of that I have found too
great a treasure not to wish to share it with
Theon's daughter."
" A treasure ? " said she, half scornfully.
" Yes, indeed. You recollect my last words,
when we parted there below a few months ago? "
Hypatia was silent. One terrible possibility at
which he had hinted flashed across her memory
for the first time since; . . . but she spurned
proudly from her the heaven-sent warning.
"I told you that, like Diogenes, I went forth to
seek a man. Did I not promise you, that when
I had found one you should be the first to hear
of him? And I have found a man."
Hypatia waved her beautiful hand. " I know
whom you would say . . . that crucified one. Be
it so. I want not a man, but a god."
"What sort of a god, Hypatia? A god made
up of our own intellectual notions, or rather of
negations of them of infinity and eternity, and
invisibility, and impassibility and why not of
immortality, too, Hypatia? For I recollect we
used to agree that it was a carnal degrading of the
Supreme One to predicate of Him so merely
human a thing as virtue."
Hypatia was silent.
" Now I have always had a sort of fancy that
what we wanted, as the first predicate of our
Absolute One, was that He was to be not merely
The Prodigal's Return 231
an infinite God whatever that meant, which I
suspect we did not always see quite, clearly or
an eternal one or an omnipotent one or even
merely a one God at all ; none of which predi-
cates, I fear, did we understand more clearly than
the first : but that He must be a righteous God :
or rather, as we used sometimes to say that He
was to have no predicate Righteousness itself.
And all along, I could not help remembering that
my old sacred Hebrew books told me of such a
one ; and feeling that they might have something
to tell me which "
"Which I did not tell you! And this, then,
caused your air of reserve, and of sly superiority
over the woman whom you mocked by calling her
your pupil ! I little suspected you of so truly
Jewish a jealousy ! Why, oh why, did you not
tell me this?"
" Because I was a beast, Hypatia ; and had all
but forgotten what this righteousness was like;
and was afraid to find out lest it should condemn
me. Because I was a devil, Hypatia; and hated
righteousness, and neither wished to see you right-
eous, or God righteous either, because then you
would both have been unlike myself. God be
merciful to me a sinner ! "
She looked up in his face. The man was
changed as if by miracle and yet not changed.
There was the same gallant consciousness of
power, the same subtle and humorous twinkle in
those strong ripe Jewish features and those glitter-
ing eyes ; and yet every line in his face was soft-
ened, sweetened ; the mask of sneering faineance
was gone imploring tenderness and earnestness
beamed from his whole countenance. The chrys-
232 Hypatia
alis case had fallen off, and disclosed the butterfly
within. She sat looking at him/and passed her
hand across her eyes, as if to try whether the
apparition would not vanish. He, the subtle !
he, the mocker ! he, the Lucian of Alexandria !
he whose depth and power had awed her,
even in his most polluted days. . . . And this
was the end of him. . . .
" It is a freak of cowardly superstition. . . .
Those Christians have been frightening him about
his sins and their Tartarus."
She looked again into his bright, clear, fearless
face, and was ashamed of her own calumny. And
this was the end of him of Synesius of Augus-
tine of learned and unlearned, Goth and Roman.
. . . The great flood would have its way, then.
. . . Could she alone fight against it?
She could! Would she submit? She? Her
will should stand firm, her reason free, to the
last to the death if need be. ... And yet last
night ! last night !
At last she spoke, without looking up.
" And what if you have found a man in that
crucified one? Have you found in him a god
also?"
" Does Hypatia recollect Glaucon's definition of
the perfectly righteous man? . . . How, without
being guilty of one unrighteous act, he must labor
his life-long under the imputation of being utterly
unrighteous, in order that his disinterestedness
may be thoroughly tested, and by proceeding in
such a course, arrive inevitably, as Glaucon says,
not only in Athens of old, or in Judea of old, but,
as you yourself will agree, in Christian Alexandria
at this moment, at do you remember, Hypatia?
The Prodigal's Return 233
bonds, and the scourge, and lastly, at the cross
itself. ... If Plato's idea of the righteous man
be a crucified one, why may not mine also ? If,
as we both and old Bishop Clemens, too as
good a Platonist as we, remember and Augustine
himself, would agree, Plato, in speaking those
strange words, spoke not of himself, but by the
Spirit of God, why should not others have spoken
by the same Spirit when they spoke the same
words?"
"A crucified man. . . . Yes. But a crucified
god, Raphael ! I shudder at the blasphemy."
" So do my poor dear fellow-countrymen. Are
they the more righteous in their daily doings,
Hypatia, on account of their fancied reverence for
the glory of One who probably knows best how to
preserve and manifest His own glory? But you
assent to the definition? Take care!" said he,
with one of his arch smiles, " I have been fighting
with Augustine, and have become of late a terrible
dialectician. Do you assent to it?"
" Of course it is Plato's."
" But do you assent merely because it is written
in the book called Plato's, or because your reason
tells you that it is true? . . . You will not tell
me. Tell me this, then, at least. Is not the per-
fectly righteous man the highest specimen of
men?"
" Surely," said she, half carelessly : but not
unwilling, like a philosopher and a Greek, as a
matter of course, to embark in anything like a
word-battle, and to shut out sadder thoughts for
a moment.
" Then must not the Autanthropos, the archety-
pal and ideal man, who is more perfect than
234 Hypatia
any individual specimen, be perfectly righteous
also?"
"Yes."
" Suppose, then, for the sake of one of those
pleasant old games of ours, an argument, that he
wished to manifest his righteousness to the world.
. . . The only method for him, according to Plato,
would be Glaucon's, of calumny and persecution,
the scourge and the cross?"
"What words are these, Raphael? Material
scourges and crosses for an eternal and spiritual
idea? "
" Did you ever yet, Hypatia, consider at leisure
what the archetype of man might be like ? "
Hypatia started, as at a new thought, and con-
fessed as every Neo-Platonist would have done
that she had never done so.
"And yet our master, Plato, bade us believe
that there was a substantial archetype of each
thing, from a flower to a nation, eternal in the
heavens. Perhaps we have not been faithful
Platonists enough heretofore, my dearest tutor.
Perhaps, being philosophers, and somewhat of
Pharisees to boot, we began all our lucubrations
as we did our prayers, by thanking God that we
were not as other men were; and so misread
another passage in the Republic, which we used
in pleasant old days to be fond of quoting."
"What was that?" asked Hypatia, who became
more and more interested every moment.
" That philosophers were men."
" Are you mocking me ? Plato defines the phil-
osopher as the man who seeks after the objects
of knowledge, while others seek after those of
opinion."
The Prodigal's Return 235
"And most truly. But what if, in our eager-
ness to assert that wherein the philosopher differed
from other men, we had overlooked that in which
he resembled other men ; and so forgot that, after
all, man was a genus whereof the philosopher was
only a species ? "
Hypatia sighed.
"Do you not think, then, that as the greater
contains the less, and the archetype of the genus
that of the species, we should have been wiser if
we had speculated a little more on the archetype of
man as man, before we meddled with a part of that
archetype, the archetype of the philosopher?
. . . Certainly it would have been the easier
course, for there are more men than philoso-
phers, Hypatia; and every man is a real man,
and a fair subject for examination, while every
philosopher is not a real philosopher our
friends the Academics, for instance, and even a
Neo-Platonist or two whom we know? You
seem impatient. Shall I cease?"
" You mistook the cause of my impatience," an-
swered she, looking up at him with her great sad
eyes. " Go on."
" Now for I am going to be terribly scholas-
tic is it not the very definition of man, that he
is, alone of all known things, a spirit temporarily
united to an animal body ? "
" Enchanted in it, as in a dungeon, rather," said
she, sighing.
"Be it so if you will. But must we not say
that the archetype the very man that if he is
the archetype, he too will be, or must have been,
once at least, temporarily enchanted into an animal
body ? . . . You are silent. I will not press you.
Vol. 711
236 Hypatia
. . . Only ask you to consider at your leisure
whether Plato may not justify somewhat from the
charge of absurdity the fisherman of Galilee, where
he said that He in whose image man is made was
made flesh, and dwelt with him bodily there by
the lake side at Tiberias, and that he beheld His
Glory, the glory as of the only-begotten of the
Father."
"That last question is a very different one.
God made flesh ! My reason revolts at it."
" Old Homer's reason did not."
Hypatia started, for she recollected her yester-
day's cravings after those old, palpable, and human
deities. And : " Go on," she cried, eagerly.
" Tell me, then This archetype of man, if it
exists anywhere, it must exist eternally in the
mind of God? At least, Plato would have so
said?"
" Yes."
"And derive its existence immediately from
Him?"
"Yes."
" But a man is one willing person, unlike to all
others?"
" Yes."
" Then this archetype must be such."
" I suppose so."
" But possessing the faculties and properties of
all men in their highest perfection."
"Of course."
" How sweetly and obediently my late teacher
becomes my pupil ! "
Hypatia looked at him with her eyes full of
tears.
" I never taught you anything, Raphael."
The Prodigal's Return 237
"You taught me most, beloved lady, when you
least thought of it. But tell me one thing more.
Is it not the property of every man to be a son?
For you can conceive of a man as not being a
father, but not as not being a son."
" Be it so."
" Then this archetype must be a son also."
"Whose son, Raphael?"
"Why not of 'Zeus, father of gods and men'?
For we agreed that it we will call it he, now,
having agreed that it is a person could owe
its existence to none but God himself."
"And what then?" said Hypatia, fixing those
glorious eyes full on his face, in an agony of doubt,
but yet, as Raphael declared to his dying day, of
hope and joy.
" Well, Hypatia, and must not a son be of the
same species as his father? 'Eagles,' says the
poet, ' do not beget doves.' Is the word son any-
thing but an empty and false metaphor, unless
the son be the perfect and equal likeness of his
father?"
" Heroes beget sons worse than themselves, says
the poet."
" We are not talking now of men as they are,
whom Homer's Zeus calls the most wretched of all
the beasts of the field ; we are talking are we
not? of a perfect and archetypal Son, and a
perfect and archetypal Father, in a perfect and
eternal world, wherein is neither growth, decay,
nor change ; and of a perfect and archetypal gen-
eration, of which the only definition can be, that
like begets its perfect like? . . . You are silent.
Be so, Hypatia. . . . We have gone up too far
into the abysses." . . .
238 Hypatia
And so they both were silent for a while. And
Raphael thought solemn thoughts about Victoria,
and about ancient signs of Isaiah's, which were
to him none the less prophecies concerning The
Man whom he had found, because he prayed and
trusted that the same signs might be repeated to
himself, and a child given to him also, as a token
that, in spite of all his baseness, " God was with
him."
But he was a Jew, and a man : Hypatia was a
Greek, and a woman and for that matter, so
were the men of her school. To her, the rela-
tions and duties of common humanity shone with
none of the awful and divine meaning which they
did in the eyes of the converted Jew, awakened
for the first time in his life to know the meaning
of his own scriptures, and become an Israelite in-
deed. And Raphael's dialectic, too, though it
might silence her, could not convince her. Her
creed, like those of her fellow-philosophers, was
one of the fancy and the religious sentiment, rather
than of the reason and the moral sense. All the
brilliant cloud-world in which she had revelled
for years, cosmogonies, emanations, affinities,
symbolisms, hierarchies, abysses, eternities, and
the rest of it though she could not rest in
them, not even believe in them though they
had vanished into thin air at her most utter need,
yet they were too pretty to be lost sight of for
ever ; and, struggling against the growing convic-
tion of her reason, she answered at last :
" And you would have me give up, as you seem
to have done, the sublime, the beautiful, the
heavenly, for a dry and barren chain of dialectic
in which, for aught I know, for after all,
The Prodigal's Return 239
Raphael, I cannot cope with you I am a woman
a weak woman ! "
And she covered her face with her hands.
" For aught you know, what? " asked Raphael,
gently.
"You may have made the worse appear the
better reason."
" So said Aristophanes of Socrates. But hear
me once more, beloved Hypatia. You refuse to
give up the beautiful, the sublime, the heavenly?
What if Raphael Aben-Ezra, at least, had never
found them till now? Recollect what I said just
now what if our old beautiful, and sublime,
and heavenly, had been the sheerest materialism,
notions spun by our own brains out of the im-
pressions of pleasant things, and high things, and
low things, and awful things, which we had seen
with our bodily eyes? What if I had discovered
that the spiritual is not the intellectual, but the
moral ; and that the spiritual world is not, as we
used to make it, a world of our own intellectual
abstractions, or of our own physical emotions,
religious or other, but a world of righteous or un-
righteous persons ? What if I had discovered that
one law of the spiritual world, in which all others
were contained, was righteousness ; and that dishar-
mony with that law, which we called unspirituality,
was not being vulgar, or clumsy, or ill-taught, or un-
imaginative, or dull, but simply being unrighteous?
What if I had discovered that righteousness, and
it alone, was the beautiful, righteousness the sub-
lime, the heavenly, the Godlike ay, God him-
self? And, what if it had dawned on me, as by
a great sunrise, what that righteousness was like?
What if I had seen a human being, a woman, too.
240 Hypatia
a young weak girl, showing forth the glory and
the beauty of God? Showing me that the beau-
tiful was to mingle unshrinking, for duty's sake,
with all that is most foul and loathsome ; that the
sublime was to stoop to the most menial offices,
the most outwardly-degrading self-denials; that
to be heavenly, was to know that the commonest
relations, the most vulgar duties, of earth, were
God's commands, and only to be performed aright
by the help of the same spirit by which He rules
the universe; that righteousness was to love, to
help, to suffer for if need be, to die for those
who, in themselves, seem fitted to arouse no feel-
ings except indignation and disgust? What if,
for the first time, I trust not for the last time, in
my life, I saw this vision ; and at the sight of it
my eyes were opened, and T knew it for the like-
ness and the glory of God? What if I, a Platonist,
like John of Galilee, . nd Paul of Tarsus, yet, like
them, a Hebrew of the Hebrews, had confessed
to myself If the creature can love thus, how
much more its archetype? If weak woman can
endure thus, how much more a Son of God? It
for the good of others, man has strength to sacri-
fice himself in part, God will have strength to
sacrifice Himself utterly. If He has not done it,
He will do it: or He will be less beautiful, less
sublime, less heavenly, less righteous than my
poor conception of Him, ay, than this weak play-
ful girl ! Why should I not believe those who
tell me that He has done it already? What if
their evidence be, after all, only probability? I
do not want mathematical demonstration to prove
to me that when a child was in danger his father
saved him neither do I here. My reason, my
The Prodigal's Return 241
heart, every faculty of me, except this stupid
sensuous experience, which I find deceiving me
every moment, which cannot even prove to me my
own existence, accepts that story of Calvary as
the most natural, most probable, most necessary
of earthly events, assuming only that God is a
righteous Person, and not some dream of an all-
pervading necessary spirit nonsense which, in
its very terms, confesses its own materialism."
Hypatia answered with a forced smile.
" Raphael Aben-Ezra has deserted the method
of the severe dialectician for that of the eloquent
lover."
" Not altogether," said he, smiling in return.
" For suppose that I had said to myself, We
Platonists agree that the sight of God is the
highest good."
Hypatia once more shuddered at last night's
recollections.
" And if He be righteous, and righteousness
be as I know it to be identical with love, then
He will desire that highest good for men far more
than they can desire it for themselves. . . . Then
He will desire to show Himself and His own
righteousness to them. . . . Will you make an-
swer, dearest Hypatia, or shall I? ... or does
your silence give consent? At least let me go on
to say this, that if God do desire to show His
righteousness to men, His only perfect method,
according to Plato, will be that of calumny, per-
secution, the scourge, and the cross, that so He,
like Glaucon's righteous man, may remain for
ever free from any suspicion of selfish interest, or
weakness of endurance. . . . Am I deserting the
dialectic method now, Hypatia? . . . You are still
242 Hypatia
silent? You will not hear me, I see. ... At some
future day, the philosopher may condescend to
lend a kinder ear to the words of her greatest
debtor. . . . Or, rather, she may condescend to
hear, in her own heart, the voice of that Arche-
typal Man, who has been loving her, guiding her,
heaping her with every perfection of body and of
mind, inspiring her with all pure and noble long-
ings, and only asks of her to listen to her own
reason, her own philosophy, when they proclaim
Him as the giver of them, and to impart them
freely and humbly, as He has imparted them to
her, to the poor, and the brutish, and the sinful,
whom He loves as well as He loves her. . . .
Farewell ! "
" Stay ! " said she, springing up ; " whither are
you going? "
" To do a little good before I die, having done
much evil. To farm, plant, and build, and rescue
a little corner of Ormuzd's earth, as the Persians
would say, out of the dominion of Ahriman. To
fight Ausurian robbers, feed Thracian mercenaries,
save a few widows from starvation, and a few or-
phans from slavery. . . . Perhaps to leave behind
me a son of David's line, who will be a better Jew,
because a better Christian, than his father. . . . We
shall have trouble in the flesh, Augustine tells
us. ... But, as I answered him, I really have
had so little thereof yet, that my fair share may
probably be rather a useful education than other-
wise. Farewell ! "
" Stay ! " said she. " Come again ! again !
And her. . . . Bring her. ... I must see her!
She must be noble, indeed, to be worthy of
you."
The Prodigal's Return 243
" She is many a hundred miles away."
"Ah! Perhaps she might have taught some-
thing to me me, the philosopher ! You need
not have feared me. ... I have no heart to make
converts now. . . . Oh, Raphael Aben-Ezra, why
break the bruised reed ? My plans are scattered
to the winds, my pupils worthless, my fair name
tarnished, my conscience heavy with the thought
of my own cruelty. ... If you do not know all,
you will know it but too soon. . . . My last hope,
Synesius, implores for himself the hope which I
need from him. . . . And, over and above it all. . . .
You ! . . . Et tu, Brute! Why not fold my mantle
round me, like Julius of old, and die I "
Raphael stood looking sadly at her, as her whole
face sank into utter prostration.
" Yes come. . . . The Galilean. ... If he
conquers strong men, can the weak maid resist
him? Come soon. . . . This afternoon. . . . My
heart is breaking fast."
" At the eighth hour this afternoon? "
" Yes. ... At noon I lecture . . . take my
farewell, rather, for ever of the schools. . . . Gods !
What have I to say? . . . And tell me about him
of Nazareth. Farewell ! "
" Farewell, beloved lady ! At the ninth hour,
you shall hear of Him of Nazareth."
Why did his own words sound to him strangely
pregnant, all but ominous? He almost fancied
that not he, but some third person had spoken
them. He kissed Hypatia's hand. It was as cold
as ice ; and his heart, too, in spite of all his bliss,
felt cold and heavy, as he left the room.
As he went down the steps into the street, a
244 Hypatia
young man sprang from behind one of the pillars,
and seized his arm.
" Aha 1 my young Coryphaeus of pious plun-.
derers! What do you want with me?"
Philammon, for it was he, looked at him an in-
stant, and recognized him.
" Save her ! for the love of God, save her 1 "
"Whom?"
" Hypatia ! "
" How long has her salvation been important to
you, my good friend ? "
" For God's sake," said Philammon, " go back
and warn her ! She will hear you you are rich
you used to be her friend I know you I
have heard of you. . . . Oh, if you ever cared for
her if you ever felt for her a thousandth part of
what I feel go in and warn her not to stir from
home ! "
" I must hear more of this," said Raphael, who
saw that the boy was in earnest. " Come in with
me, and speak to her father."
" No ! not in that house ! Never in that house
again ! Do not ask me why : but go yourself.
She will not hear me. Did you did you pre-
vent her from listening?"
" What do you mean ? "
" I have been here ages ! I sent a note in
by her maid, and she returned no answer."
Raphael recollected then, for the first time, a
note which he had seen brought to her during the
conversation.
" I saw her receive a note. She tossed it away.
Tell me your story. If there is reason in it, I will
bear your message myself. Of what is she to be
warned ? "
The Prodigal's Return 245
" Of a plot I know that there is a plot
against her among the monks and parabolani.
As I lay in bed this morning in Arsenius's room
they thought I was asleep "
"Arsenius? Has that venerable fanatic, then,
gone the way of all monastic flesh, and turned
persecutor? "
" God forbid ! I heard him beseeching Peter
the Reader to refrain from something, I cannot
tell what; but I caught her name. ... I heard
Peter say, ' She that hindereth will hinder till she
be taken out of the way.' And when he went out
into the passage I heard him say to another,
' That thou doest, do quickly ! "' . . .
" These are slender grounds, my friend."
" Ah, you do not know of what those men are
capable ! "
" Do I not? Where did you and I meet last? "
Philammon blushed and burst forth again.
" That was enough for me. I know the hatred
which they bear her, the crimes which they attri-
bute to her. Her house would have been at-
tacked last night had it not been for Cyril. . . .
And I knew Peter's tone. He spoke too gently
and softly not to mean something devilish. I
watched all the morning for an opportunity of
escape, and here I am ! Will you take my mes-
sage, or see her "
"What?"
" God only knows, and the devil whom they
worship instead of God."
Raphael hurried back into the house : " Could
he see Hypatia?" She had shut herself up in
her private room, strictly commanding that no
visitor should be admitted. . "Where was
246 Hypatia
Theon, then?" He had gone out by the canal
gate half an hour before, with a bundle of mathe-
matical papers under his arm, no one knew
whither. ..." Imbecile old idiot! " and he hastily
wrote on his tablet :
" Do not despise the young monk's warning. I
believe him to speak the truth. As you love your-
self and your father, Hypatia, stir not out to-day."
He bribed a maid to take the message upstairs ;
and passed his time in the hall in warning the ser-
vants. But they would not believe him. It was
true the shops were shut in some quarters, and the
Museum gardens empty; people were a little
frightened after yesterday. But Cyril, they had
heard for certain, had threatened excommunica-
tion only last night to any Christian who broke
the peace ; and there had not been a monk to be
seen in the streets the whole morning. And as
for any harm happening to their mistress im-
possible ! " The very wild beasts would not tear
her," said the huge negro porter, "if she was
thrown into the amphitheatre."
Whereat a maid boxed his ears for talking of
such a thing ; and then, by way of mending it, de-
clared that she knew for certain that her mistress
could turn aside the lightning, and call legions of
spirits to fight for her with a nod. . . . What was
to be done with such idolaters? And yet who
could help liking them the better for it?
At last the answer came down, in the old grace-
ful, studied, self-conscious handwriting.
"It is a strange way of persuading me to your
new faith, to bid me beware, on the very first day
of your preaching, of the wickedness of those who
believe it. I thank you: but your affection for
The Prodigal's Return 247
me makes you timorous. I dread nothing. They
will not dare. Did they dare now, they would
have dared long ago. As for that youth to
obey or to believe his word, even to seem aware
of his existence, were shame to me henceforth.
Because he is insolent enough to warn me, there-
fore I will go. Fear not for me. You would not
wish me, for the first time in my life, to fear for
myself. I must follow my destiny. I must speak
the words which I have to speak. Above all, I
must let no Christian say, that the philosopher
dared less than the fanatic. If my gods are
gods, then will they protect me: and if not, let
your God prove His rule as seems to Him good."
Raphael tore the letter to fragments. . . . The
guards, at least, were not gone mad like the rest
of the world. It wanted half an hour of the tim
of her lecture. In the interval he might summon
force enough to crush all Alexandria. And turn-
ing suddenly, he darted out of the room and out
of the house.
" Quern Deus vult perdere - ! " cried he to
Philammon, with a gesture of grief. " Stay here
and stop her! make a last appeal! Drag the
horses' heads down, if you can ! I will be back in
ten minutes." And he ran off for the nearest gate
of the Museum gardens.
On the other side of the gardens lay the court-
yard of the palace. There were gates in plenty
communicating between them. If he could but
see Orestes, even alarm the guard in time I ...
And he hurried through the walks and alcoves,
now deserted by the fearful citizens, to the nearest
gate. It was fast, and barricaded firmly on the
outside.
248 Hypatia
Terrified, he ran on to the next ; it was barred
also. He saw the reason in a moment, and mad-
dened as he saw it. The guards, careless about
the Museum, or reasonably fearing no danger from
the Alexandrian populace to the glory and wonder
of their city, or perhaps wishing wisely enough to
concentrate their forces in the narrowest space,
had contented themselves with cutting off all com-
munication with the gardens, and so converting the
lofty partition-wall into the outer enceinte of their
marble citadel. At all events, the doors leading
from the Museum itself might be open. He knew
them every one, every hall, passage, statue, pic-
ture, almost every book in that vast treasure-house
of ancient civilization. He found an entrance;
hurried through well-known corridors to a postern
through which he and Orestes had lounged a hun-
dred times, their lips full of bad words, their hearts
of worse thoughts, gathered in those records of the
fair wickedness of old. ... It was fast. He beat
upon it ; but no one answered. He rushed on and
tried another. No one answered there. Another
still silence and despair! . . . He rushed up-
stairs, hoping that from the windows above he
might be able to call to the guard. The prudent
soldiers had locked and barricaded the entrances
to the upper floors of the whole right wing, lest
the palace court should be commanded from
thence. Whither now? Back and whither
then? Back, round endless galleries, vaulted
halls, staircases, door-ways, some fast, some
open, up and down, trying this way and that,
losing himself at whiles in that enormous silent
labyrinth. And his breath failed him, his throat
was parched, his face burned as with the simoom
The Prodigal's Return 249
wind, his legs were trembling under him. His
presence of mind, usually so perfect, failed him
utterly. He was baffled, netted; there was a
spell upon him. Was it a dream? Was it all
one of those hideous nightmares of endless pil-
lars beyond pillars, stairs above stairs, rooms
within rooms, changing, shifting, lengthening
out for ever and for ever before the dreamer,
narrowing, closing in on him, choking him?
Was it a dream? Was he doomed to wander
for ever and for ever in some palace of the dead,
to expiate the sin which he had learnt and done
therein? His brain, for the first time in his life,
began to reel. He could recollect nothing but
that something dreadful was to happen and
that he had to prevent it, and could not. . . .
Where was he now? In a little by-chamber. . . .
He had talked with her there a hundred times,
looking out over the Pharos and the blue Medi-
terranean. . . . What was that roar below? . . .
A sea of weltering yelling heads, thousands on
thousands, down to the very beach; and from
their innumerable throats one mighty war-cry:
" God, and the mother of God ! " Cyril's hounds
were loose. . . . He reeled from the window, and
darted frantically away again, . . . whither, he
knew not, and never knew until his dying day.
And Philammon? . . . Sufficient for the chapter,
as for the day, is the evil thereof.
CHAPTER XXVIII
WOMAN'S LOVE
PELAGIA had passed that night alone in sleep-
less sorrow, which was not diminished by her
finding herself the next morning palpably a pris-
oner in her own house. Her girls told her that
they had orders they would not say from whom
to prevent her leaving her own apartments.
And though some of them made the announce-
ment with sighs and tears of condolence, yet more
than one, she could see, was well inclined to make
her feel that her power was over, and that there
were others besides herself who might aspire to
the honor of reigning favorite.
What matter to her? Whispers, sneers, and
saucy answers fell on her ear unheeded. She had
one idol, and she had lost it; one power, and it
had failed her. In the heaven above, and in the
earth beneath, was neither peace, nor help, nor
hope ; nothing but black, blank, stupid terror and
despair. The little weak infant soul, which had
just awakened in her, had been crushed and stunned
in its very birth-hour ; and instinctively she crept
away to the roof of the tower where her apartments
were, to sit and weep alone.
There she sat, hour after hour, beneath the
shade of the large windsail, which served in all
Alexandrian houses the double purpose of a shelter
from the sun and a ventilator for the rooms below;
Woman's Love 251
and her eye roved carelessly over that endless sea
of roofs and towers, and masts, and glittering
canals, and gliding boats; but she saw none of
them nothing but one beloved face, lost, lost
for ever.
At last a low whistle roused her from her dream.
She looked up. Across the narrow lane, from one
of the embrasures of the opposite house-parapet
bright eyes were peering at her. She moved
angrily to escape them.
The whistle was repeated, and a head rose
cautiously above the parapet. ... It was Miriam's.
Casting a careful look around, Pelagia went for-
ward. What could the old woman want with her?
Miriam made interrogative signs, which Pelagia
understood as asking her whether she was alone ;
and the moment that an answer in the negative
was returned, Miriam rose, tossed over to her feet
a letter weighted with a pebble, and then vanished
again.
"I have watched here all day. They refused
me admittance below. Beware of Wulf, of every
one. Do not stir from your chamber. There is
a plot to carry you off to-night, and give you up
to your brother the monk ; you are betrayed ; be
brave ! "
Pelagia read it with blanching cheek and staring
eyes ; and took, at least, the last part of Miriam's
advice. For walking down the stair, she passed
proudly through her own rooms, and commanding
back the girls who would have stayed her, with a
voice and gesture at which they quailed, went
straight down, the letter in her hand, to the apart-
ment where the Amal usually spent his midday
hours.
252 Hypatia
As she approached the door, she heard loud
voices within. . . . His! yes; but Wulf's also.
Her heart failed her, and she stopped a moment
to listen. . . . She heard Hypatia's name; and
mad with curiosity, crouched down at the lock,
and hearkened to every word.
" She will not accept me, Wulf."
" If she will not, she shall go farther and fare
worse. Besides, I tell you, she is hard run. It is
her last chance, and she will jump at it. The
Christians are mad with her ; if a storm blows up,
her life is not worth that ! "
" It is a pity that we have not brought her hither
already."
" It is ; but we could not. We must not break
with Orestes till the palace is in our hands."
" And will it ever be in our hands, friend ? "
" Certain. We were round at every picket last
night, and the very notion of an Amal's heading
them made them so eager, that we had to bribe
them to be quiet rather than to rise."
" Odin ! I wish I were among them now ! "
" Wait till the city rises. If the day pass over
without a riot, I know nothing. The treasure is
all on board, is it not?"
"Yes, and the galleys ready. I have been
working like a horse at them all the morning, as
you would let me do nothing else. And Goderic
will not be back from the palace, you say, till
nightfall?"
" If we are attacked first, we are to throw up a
fire signal to him, and he is to come off hither
with what Goths he can muster. If the palace is
attacked first, he is to give us the signal, and we
are to pack up and row round thither. And in
Woman's Love 253
the meanwhile he is to make that hound of a
Greek prefect as drunk as he can."
" The Greek will see him under the table. He
has drugs, I know, as all these Roman rascals
have, to sober him when he likes; and then he
sets to work and drinks again. Send off old Smid,
and let him beat the armorer if he can."
" A very good thought ! " said Wulf, and came out
instantly for the purpose of putting it in practice.
Pelagia had just time to retreat into an adjoin-
ing doorway: but she had heard enough; and
as Wulf passed, she sprang to him and caught
him by the arm.
" Oh, come in hither ! Speak to me one
moment ; for mercy's sake speak to me ! " and
she drew him, half against his will, into the cham-
ber, and throwing herself at his feet, broke out
into a childlike wail.
Wulf stood silent, utterly discomfited by this
unexpected submission, where he had expected
petulant and artful resistance. He almost felt
guilty and ashamed, as he looked down into that
beautiful imploring face, convulsed with simple
sorrow, as of a child for a broken toy. ... At last
she spoke.
" Oh, what have I done what have I done ?
Why must you take him from me? What have I
done but love him, honor him, worship him? I
know you love him; and I love you for it.
I do indeed ! But you what is your love to
mine? Oh, I would die for him be torn in pieces
for him now, this moment ! " . . .
Wulf was silent.
"What have I done but love him? What could
I wish but to make him happy? I was rich
254 Hypatia
enough, praised, and petted; . . . and then he
came, . . . glorious as he is, like a god among
men among apes rather and I worshipped
him: was I wrong in that? I gave up all for him:
was I wrong in that? I gave him myself: what
could I do more? He condescended to like me
he the hero ! Could I help submitting? I loved
him: could I help loving him? Did I wrong him
in that? Cruel, cruel Wulf ! "...
Wulf was forced to be stern, or he would have
melted at once.
"And what was your love worth to him?
What has it done for him? It has made him a
sot, an idler, a laughing-stock to these Greek dogs,
when he might have been their conqueror, their
king. Foolish woman, who cannot see that your
love has been his bane, his ruin ! He, who ought
by now to have been sitting upon the throne of
the Ptolemies, the lord of all south of the Mediter-
ranean as he shall be still ! "
Pelagia looked up at him wide-eyed, as if her
mind was taking in slowly some vast new thought,
under the weight of which it reeled already. Then
she rose slowly.
"And he might be Emperor of Africa?"
" And he shall be ; but not "
"Not with me!" she almost shrieked. "No!
not with wretched, ignorant, polluted me ! I see
oh, God, I see it all ! And this is why you
want him to marry her her "
She could not utter the dreaded name.
Wulf could not trust himself to speak; but he
bowed his head in acquiescence.
"Yes I will go up into the desert with
Woman's Love 255
Philammon and you shall never hear of me,
again. And I will be a nun, and pray for him,
that he may be a great king, and conquer all the
world. You will tell him why I went away, will
you not? Yes, I will go, now, at once "
She turned away hurriedly, as if to act upon her
promise, and then she sprang again to Wulf with
a sudden shudder.
" I cannot, Wulf! I cannot leave him ! I shall
go mad if I do ! Do not be angry ; I will
promise anything take any oath you like, if you
will only let me stay here. Only as a slave
as anything if I may but look at him sometimes.
No not even that but to be under the same
roof with him, only Oh, let me be but a slave in
the kitchen ! I will make over all I have to him
to you to any one! And you shall tell him
that I am gone dead, if you will. Only let me
stay ! And I will wear rags, and grind in the mill.
. . . Even that will be delicious, to know that he
is eating the bread which I have made I And if I
ever dare speak to him even to come near him
let the steward hang me up by the wrists, and
whip me, like the slave which I deserve to be!
. . . And then shall I soon grow old and ugly
with grief, and there will be no more danger then,
dear Wulf, will there, from this accursed face of
mine? Only promise me that, and There!
he is calling you ! Don't let him come in and see
me ! I cannot bear it ! Go to him, quick, and
tell him all. No, don't tell him yet." . . .
And she sank down again on the floor, as
Wulf went out murmuring to himself:
" Poor child ! poor child ! well for thee this day
if thou wert dead, and at the bottom of Hela 1 "
256 Hypatia
And Pelagia heard what he said.
Gradually, amid sobs and tears, and stormy con-
fusion of impossible hopes and projects, those
words took root in her mind, and spread, till they
filled her whole heart and brain.
" Well for me if I were dead? "
And she rose slowly.
" Well for me if I were dead? And why not?
Then it would indeed be all settled. There would
be no more danger from poor little Pelagia
then." . . .
She went slowly, firmly, proudly, into the well-
known chamber. . . . She threw herself upon the
bed, and covered the pillow with kisses. Her eye
fell on the Amal's sword, which hung across the
bed's-head, after the custom of Gothic warriors.
She seized it, and took it down, shuddering.
" Yes ! . . . Let it be with this, if it must be.
And must it be? I cannot bear it! Anything
but shame! To have fancied all my life vain
fool that I was! that every one loved and ad-
mired me, and to find that they were despising
me, hating me, all along ! Those students at
the lecture-room door told me I was despised.
The old monk told me so Fool that I
was ! I forgot it next day ! For he he
loved me still ! Ah how could I believe
them, till his own lips had said it? ... Intoler-
able ! . . . And yet women as bad as I am have
been honored when they were dead. What
was that song which I used to sing about Epi-
charis, who hung herself in the litter, and Leaina,
who bit out her tongue, lest the torture should
drive them to betray their lovers ? There used
to be a statue of Leaina, they say, at Athens,
Woman's Love 257
a lioness without a tongue. . . . And whenever
I sang the song, the theatre used to rise, and
shout, and call them noble and blessed. ... I
never could tell why then; but I know now!
I know now ! Perhaps they may call me
noble, after all. At least, they may say, ' She
was a a but she dare die for the man she
loved ! ' . . . Ay, but God despises me too, and
hates me. He will send me to eternal fire.
Philammon said so though he was my brother.
The old monk said so though he wept as
he said it. ... The flames of hell for ever I
Oh, not for ever ! Great, dreadful God I Not
for ever! Indeed, I did not know! No one
taught me about right and wrong, and I never
knew that I had been baptized Indeed, I never
knew ! And it was so pleasant so pleasant to
be happy, and praised, and loved, and to see
happy faces round me. How could I help it?
The birds there who are singing in the darling,
beloved court they do what they like, and Thou
art not angry with them for being happy ? And
Thou wilt not be more cruel to me than to them,
great God for what did I know more than they ?
Thou hast made the beautiful sunshine, and the
pleasant, pleasant world, and the flowers, and
the birds Thou wilt not send me to burn for
ever and ever? Will not a hundred years be
punishment enough or a thousand? Oh, God!
is not this punishment enough already, to have
to leave him, just as just as I am beginning to
long to be good, and to be worthy of him? . . .
Oh, have mercy mercy mercy and let me
go after I have been punished enough ! Why
may I not turn into a bird, or even a worm, and
258 Hypatia
come back again out of that horrible place,
to see the sun shine, and the flowers grow once
more ? Oh, am I not punishing myself already?
Will not this help to atone? . . . Yes I will
die ! and perhaps so God may pity me I "
And with trembling hands she drew the sword
from its sheath and covered the blade with kisses.
" Yes on this sword with which he won his
battles. That is right his to the last ! How keen
and cold it looks ! Will it be very' painful? . . .
No I will not try the point, or my heart might
fail me. I will fall on it at once: let it hurt
me as it may, it will be too late to draw back
then. And after all it is his sword It will not
have the heart to torture me much. And yet
he struck me himself this morning ! "
And at that thought, a long wild cry of misery
broke from her lips, and rang through the house.
Hurriedly she fastened the sword upright to the
foot of the bed, and tore open her tunic. . . .
"Here under this widowed bosom, where his
head will never lie again ! There are footsteps
in the passage! Quick, Pelagia! Now "
And she threw up her arms wildly, in act to
fall. . . .
" It is his step ! And he will find me, and
never know that it is for him I die ! "
The Amal tried the door. It was fast. With a
single blow he burst it open, and demanded :
"What was that shriek? What is the meaning
of this? Pelagia!"
Pelagia, like a child caught playing with a for-
bidden toy, hid her face in her hands and cow-
ered down.
" What is it?" cried he, lifting her.
Woman's Love 259
But she burst from his arms.
" No, no ! never more ! I am not worthy
of you ! Let me die, wretch that I am ! I can
only drag you down. You must be a king. You
must marry her the wise woman ! "
"Hypatia! She is dead!"
"Dead?" shrieked Pelagia.
" Murdered, an hour ago, by those Christian
devils."
Pelagia put her hands over her eyes, and burst
into tears. Were they of pity or of joy? . . .
She did not ask herself; and we will not ask
her.
" Where is my sword ? Soul of Odin ! why is it
fastened here?"
"I was going to Do not be angry! . . .
They told me that I had better die, and "
The Amal stood thunderstruck for a moment.
" Oh, do not strike me again ! Send me to the
mill. Kill me now with your own hand ! Any-
thing but another blow ! "
"A blow? Noble woman!" cried the Amal,
clasping her in his arms.
The storm was past; and Pelagia had been
nestling to that beloved heart, cooing like a
happy dove, for many a minute before the Amal
aroused himself and her. . . .
" Now ! quick ! We have not a moment to
lose. Up to the tower, where you will be safe;
and then to show these curs what comes of snarl-
ing round the wild wolves' deal"
Vol. 712
CHAPTER XXIX
NEMESIS
AND was the Amal's news true, then?
Philammon saw Raphael rush across the
street into the Museum gardens. His last words
had been a command to stay where he was ; and
the boy obeyed him. The black porter who let
Raphael out told him somewhat insolently, that
his mistress would see no one, and receive no
messages : but he had made up his mind ; com-
plained of the sun, quietly ensconced himself be-
hind a buttress, and sat coiled up on the pave-
ment, ready for a desperate spring. The slave
stared at him: but he was accustomed to the
vagaries of philosophers; and, thanking the gods
that he was not born in that station of life, retired
to his porter's cell, and forgot the whole matter.
There Philammon waited a full-half hour. It
seemed to him hours, days, years. And yet Raphael
did not return : and yet no guards appeared. Was
the strange Jew a traitor? Impossible ! his face
had shown a desperate earnestness of terror as in-
tense as Philammon's own. . . . Yet why did he
not return?
Perhaps he had found out that the streets were
clear; their mutual fears groundless. . . . What
meant that black knot of men some two hundred
yards off, hanging about the mouth of the side
street, just opposite the door which led to her lee-
Nemesis 26 1
ture-room? He moved to watch them : they had
vanished. He lay down again and waited. . . .
There they were again. It was a suspicious post
That street ran along the back of the Caesareium,
a favorite haunt of monks, communicating by in-
numerable entries and back buildings with the
great church itself. . . . And yet, why should
there not be a knot of monks there ? What more
common in every street of Alexandria ? He tried
to laugh away his own fears. And yet they ripened,
by the very intensity of thinking on them, into
certainty. He knew that something terrible was
at hand. More than once he looked out from
his hiding-place the knot of men were still
there ; ... it seemed to have increased, to draw
nearer. If they found him, what would they not
suspect? What did he care? He would die for
her, if it came to that not that it could come to
that: but still he must speak to her he must
warn her. Passenger after passenger, carriage
after carriage passed along the street: student
after student entered the lecture-room; but he
never saw them, not though they passed him
close. The sun rose higher and higher, and
turned his whole blaze upon the corner where
Philammon crouched, till the pavement scorched
like hot iron, and his eyes were dazzled by the
blinding glare : but he never heeded it. His whole
heart, and sense, and sight, were riveted upon that
well-known door, expecting it to open. . . .
At last a curricle, glittering with silver, rattled
round the corner and stopped opposite him. She
must be coming now. The crowd had vanished.
Perhaps it was, after all, a fancy of his own.
No ; there they were, peeping round the corner,
262 Hypatia
close to the lecture-room the hell-hounds f A
slave brought out an embroidered cushion and
then Hypatia herself came forth, looking more
glorious than ever; her lips set in a sad firm
smile ; her eyes uplifted, inquiring, eager, and yet
gentle, dimmed by some great inward awe, as if
her soul was far away aloft, and face to face with
God.
In a moment he sprang up to her, caught her
robe convulsively, threw himself on his knees be-
fore her:
" Stop ! Stay ! You are going to destruction ! "
Calmly she looked down upon him.
" Accomplice of witches ! Would you make of
Theon's daughter a traitor like yourself? "
He sprang up, stepped back, and stood stupe-
fied with shame and despair. . . .
She believed him guilty, then ! ... It was the
will of God !
The plumes of the horses were waving far down
the street before he recovered himself, and rushed
after her, shouting he knew not what.
It was too late 1 A dark wave of men rushed
from the ambuscade, surged up round the car . . .
swept forward . . . she had disappeared ! and as
Philammon followed breathless, the horses gal-
loped past him madly homeward with the empty
carriage.
Whither were they dragging her ? To the Caesar-
eium, the church of God himself? Impossible !
Why thither of all places of the earth? Why did
the mob, increasing momentarily by hundreds,
pour down upon the beach, and return brandish-
ing flints, shells, fragments of pottery?
She was upon, the church steps before he caught
Nemesis 263
them up, invisible among the crowd ; but he could
track her by the fragments of her dress.
Where were her gay pupils now? Alas! they
had barricaded themselves shamefully in the
Museum, at the first rush which swept her from
the door of the lecture-room. Cowards ! he would
save her !
And he struggled in vain to pierce the dense
mass of parabolani and monks, who, mingled
with the fish-wives and dock-workers, leaped and
yelled around their victim. But what he could
not do another and a weaker did even the little
porter. Furiously no one knew how or whence
he burst up as if from the ground in the thickest
of the crowd, with knife, teeth, and nails, like a
venomous wild-cat, tearing his way towards his
idol. Alas ! he was torn down himself, rolled over
the steps, and lay there half dead in an agony of
weeping, as Philammon sprang up past him into
the church.
Yes. On into the church itself! Into the cool
dim shadow, with its fretted pillars, and lowering
domes, and candles, and incense, and blazing altar,
and great pictures looking from the walls athwart
the gorgeous gloom. And right in front, above
the altar, the colossal Christ watching unmoved
from off the wall, his right hand raised to give a
blessing or a curse ?
On, up the nave, fresh shreds of her dress strew-
ing the holy pavement up the chancel steps
themselves up to the altar right underneath
the great still Christ : and there even those hell-
hounds paused. . . .
She shook herself free from her tormentors,
and springing back, rose for one moment to her
264 Hypatia
full height naked, snow-white against the dusky
mass around shame and indignation in those
wide clear eyes, but not a stain of fear. With
one hand she clasped her golden locks around
her ; the other long white arm was stretched up-
ward toward the great still Christ appealing
and who dare say, in vain ? from man to God.
Her lips were opened to speak; but the words
that should have come from them reached God's
ear alone ; for in an instant Peter struck her down,
the dark mass closed over her again, . . . and
then wail on wail, long, wild, ear-piercing, rang
along the vaulted roofs, and thrilled like the trum-
pet of avenging angels through Philammon's
ears.
Crushed against a pillar, unable to move in the
dense mass, he pressed his hands over his ears.
He could not shut out those shrieks ! When
would they end ? What in the name of the God
of mercy were they doing? Tearing her piece-
meal? Yes, and worse than that. And still the
shrieks rang on, and still the great Christ looked
down on Philammon with that calm, intolerable
eye, and would not turn away. And over his
head was written in the rainbow, " I am the same,
yesterday, to-day, and for ever ! " The same as
he was in Judea of old, Philammon? Then what
are these, and in whose temple ? And he covered
his face with his hands, and longed to die.
It was over. The shrieks had died away into
moans ; the moans to silence. How long had he
been there? An hour, or an eternity? Thank
God it was over! For her sake but for theirs?
But they thought not of that as a new cry rose
through the dome.
Nemesis 265
"To the Cinaron! Burn the bones to ashes!
Scatter them into the sea ! " . . . And the mob
poured past him again. . . .
He turned to flee : but, once outside the church,
he sank exhausted, and lay upon the steps, watch-
ing with stupid horror the glaring of the fire, and
the mob who leaped and yelled like demons round
their Moloch sacrifice.
A hand grasped his arm ; he looked up ; it was
the porter.
" And this, young butcher, is the Catholic and
apostolic Church?"
" No ! Eudaemon, it is the church of the devils
of hell ! " And gathering himself up, he sat upon
the steps and buried his head within his hands.
He would have given life itself for the power of
weeping: but his eyes and brain were hot and
dry as the desert.
Eudaemon looked at him awhile. The shock
had sobered the poor fop for once.
" I did what I could to die with her ! " said he.
" I did what I could to save her ! " answered
Philammon.
" I know it. Forgive the words which I just
spoke. Did we not both love her?"
And the little wretch sat down by Philammon's
side, and as the blood dripped from his wounds
upon the pavement, broke out into a bitter agony
of human tears.
There are times when the very intensity of our
misery is a boon, and kindly stuns us till we are
unable to torture ourselves by thought. And so
it was with Philammon then. He sat there, he
knew not how long.
" She is with the gods," said Eudaemon at last
266 Hypatia
" She is with the God of gods," answered Phil-
ammon ; and they both were silent again.
Suddenly a commanding voice aroused them.
They looked up, and saw before them Raphael
Aben-Ezra.
He was pale as death, but calm as death. One
look into his face told them that he knew all.
"Young monk," he said between his closed
teeth, "you seem to have loved her?"
Philammon looked up, but could not speak.
" Then arise, and flee for your life into the far-
thest corner of the desert, ere the doom of Sodom
and Gomorrha fall upon this accursed city. Have
you father, mother, brother, sister, ay, cat, dog,
or bird for which you care, within its walls ? "
Philammon started ; for he recollected Pelagia.
. . . That evening, so Cyril had promised, twenty
trusty monks were to have gone with him to seize
her.
" You have ? Then take them with you, and
escape, and remember Lot's wife. Eudaemon,
come with me. You must lead me to your
house, to the lodging of Miriam the Jewess.
Do not deny! I know that she is there. For
the sake of her who is gone I will hold you harm-
less, ay, reward you richly, if you prove faithful.
Rise ! "
Eudaemon, who knew Raphael's face well, rose
and led the way trembling ; and Philammon was
left alone.
They never met again. But Philammon knew
that he had been in the presence of a stronger
man than himself, and of one who hated even more
bitterly than he himself that deed at which the very
sun, it seemed, ought to have veiled his face.
Nemesis 267
And his words, " Arise, and flee for thy life,"
uttered as they were with the stern self-command
and writhing lip of compressed agony, rang
through his ears like the trump of doom. Yes,
he would flee. He had gone forth to see the
world, and he had seen it. Arsenius was in the
right after all. Home to the desert ! But first
he would go himself, alone, to Pelagia, and implore
her once more to flee with him. Beast, fool, that
he had been to try to win her by force by the
help of such as these ! God's kingdom was not a
kingdom of fanatics yelling for a doctrine, but of
willing, loving, obedient hearts. If he could not
win her heart, her will, he would go alone, and die
praying for her.
He sprang from the steps of the Caesareiutn,
and turned up the street of the Museum. Alas t
it was one roaring sea of heads! They were
sacking Theon's house the house of so many
memories ! Perhaps the poor old man too had
perished ! Still his sister ! He must save her
and flee. And he turned up a side street and tried
to make his 'way onward.
Alas again ! the whole of the dock-quarter was
up and out. Every street poured its tide of furious
fanatics into the main river; and ere he could
reach Pelagia's house the sun was set, and close
behind him, echoed by ten thousand voices, was
the cry of " Down with all heathens ! Root out
all Arian Goths ! Down with idolatrous wantons I
Down with Pelagia Aphrodite ! "
He hurried down the alley, to the tower door,
where Wulf had promised to meet him. It was
half open, and in the dusk he could see a figure
standing in the doorway. He sprang up the steps*
and found, not Wulf, but Miriam.
268 Hypatia
" Let me pass ! "
"Wherefore?"
He made no answer, and tried to push past her.
" Fool, fool, fool ! " whispered the hag, holding
the door against him with all her strength.
" Where are your fellow-kidnappers ? Where are
your band of monks?"
Philammon started back. How had she dis-
covered his plan?
"Ay where are they? Besotted boy! Have
you not seen enough of monkery this afternoon,
that you must try still to make that poor girl even
such a one as yourselves? Ay, you may root out
your own human natures if you will, and make
yourselves devils in trying to become angels : but
woman she is, and woman she shall live or die ! "
" Let me pass ! " cried Philammon, furiously.
"Raise your voice and I raise mine: and
then your life is not worth a moment's purchase.
Fool, do you think I speak as a Jewess? I speak
as a woman as a nun ! I was a nun once, mad-
man the iron entered into my soul ! God do
so to me, and more also, if it ever enter into
another soul while I can prevent it! You shall
not have her ! I will strangle her with my own
hand first ! " And turning from him, she darted
up the winding stair.
He followed : but the intense passion of the old
hag hurled her onward with the strength and speed
of a young Maenad. Once Philammon was near
passing her. But he recollected that he did not
know his way, and contented himself with keeping
close behind, and making the fugitive his guide.
Stair after stair, he fled upward, till she turned
suddenly into a chamber door. Philammon paused.
Nemesis 269
A few feet above him the open sky showed at the
stair-head. They were close then to the roof!
One moment more, and the hag darted out of the
room again, and turned to flee upward still. Phil-
ammon caught her by the arm, hurled her back
into the empty chamber, shut the door upon her ;
and with a few bounds gained the roof, and met
Pelagia face to face.
" Come ! " gasped he breathlessly. " Now is
the moment ! Come, while they are all below ! "
and he seized her hand.
But Pelagia only recoiled.
" No, no," whispered she in answer, " I cannot,
cannot he has forgiven me all, all ! and I am
his for ever 1 And now, just as he is in danger,
when he may be wounded ah, heaven ! would
you have me do anything so base as to desert
him?"
" Pelagia, Pelagia, darling sister ! " cried Phil-
ammon, in an agonized voice, " think of the doom
of sin ! Think of the pains of hell ! "
" I have thought of them this day : and I do
not believe you ! No I do not ! God is not so
cruel as you say ! And if He were : to lose my
love, that is hell ! Let me burn hereafter, if I do
but keep him now ! "
Philammon stood stupefied and shuddering.
All his own early doubts flashed across him like a
thunderbolt, when in the temple-cave he had seen
those painted ladies at their revels, and shuddered,
and asked himself, were they burning for ever and
ever?
" Come ! " gasped he once again ; and throwing
himself on his knees before her, covered her hands
with kisses, wildly entreating : but in vain.
270 Hypatia
"What is this?" thundered a voice; not
Miriam's, but the Amal's. He was unarmed : but
he rushed straight upon Philammon.
11 Do not harm him ! " shrieked Pelagia ; " he is
my brother my brother of whom I told you ! "
"What does he here?" cried the Amal, who
instantly divined the truth.
Pelagia was silent.
" I wish to deliver my sister, a Christian, from
the sinful embraces of an Arian heretic; and
deliver her I will, or die ! "
"An Arian?" laughed the Amal. "Say a
heathen at once, and tell the truth, young fool)
Will you go with him, Pelagia, and turn nun in
the sand-heaps?"
Pelagia sprang towards her lover: Philammon
caught her by the arm for one last despairing
appeal : and in a moment, neither knew how, the
Goth and the Greek were locked in deadly struggle,
while Pelagia stood in silent horror, knowing that
a call for help would bring instant death to her
brother.
It was over in a few seconds. The Goth lifted
Philammon like a baby in his arms, and bearing
him to the parapet, attempted to hurl him into the
canal below. But the active Greek had wound
himself like a snake around him, and held him by
the throat with the strength of despair. Twice
they rolled and tottered on the parapet ; and twice
recoiled. A third fearful lunge the earthen wall
gave way ; and down to the dark depths, locked
in each other's arms, fell Goth and Greek.
Pelagia rushed to the brink, and gazed down-
ward into the gloom, dumb and dry-eyed with
horror. Twice they turned over together in mid-
Nemesis 271
air. . . . The foot of the tower, as was usual in
Egypt, sloped outwards towards the water. They
must strike upon that and then ! ... It seemed
an eternity ere they touched the masonry. . . .
The Amal was undermost. . . . She saw his fair
floating locks dash against the cruel stone. His
grasp suddenly loosened, his limbs collapsed ; two
distinct plunges broke the dark sullen water ; and
then all was still but the awakened ripple, lapping
angrily against the wall.
Pelagia gazed down one moment more, and
then, with a shriek which rang along roof and
river, she turned, and fled down the stairs and out
into the night.
Five minutes afterwards, Philammon, dripping,
bruised, and bleeding, was crawling up the water-
steps at the lower end of the lane. A woman
rushed from the postern door, and stood on the
quay edge, gazing with clasped hands into the
canal. The moon fell full on her face. It was
Pelagia. She saw him, knew him and recoiled.
" Sister ! my sister ! Forgive me ! "
" Murderer ! " she shrieked, and dashing aside
his outspread hands, fled wildly up the passage.
The way was blocked with bales of merchan-
dise: but the dancer bounded over them like a
deer ; while Philammon, half stunned by his fall,
and blinded by his dripping locks, stumbled, fell,
and lay, unable to rise. She held on for a few
yards towards the torchlit mob, which was surging
and roaring in the main street above, then turned
suddenly into a side alley, and vanished; while
Philammon lay groaning upon the pavement, with-
out a purpose or a hope upon earth.
Five minutes more, and Wulf was gazing over
272 Hypatia
the broken parapet, at the head of twenty terrified
spectators, male and female, whom Pelagia's shriek
had summoned.
He alone suspected that Philammon had been
there; and shuddering at the thought of what
might have happened, he kept his secret.
But all knew that Pelagia had been on the tower ;
all had seen the Amal go up thither. Where were
they now? And why was the little postern gate
found open, and shut only just in time to prevent
the entrance of the mob ?
Wulf stood, revolving in a brain but too well
practised in such cases, all possible contingencies
of death and horror. At last :
" A rope and a light, Smid ! " he almost whis-
pered.
They were brought, and Wulf, resisting all the
entreaties of the younger men to allow them to go
on the perilous search, lowered himself through
the breach.
He was about two-thirds down, when he shook
the rope, and called, in a stifled voice, to those
above :
" Haul up. I have seen enough."
Breathless with curiosity and fear, they hauled
him up. He stood among them for a few moments,
silent, as if stunned by the weight of some enor-
mous woe.
"Is he dead?"
" Odin has taken his son home, wolves of the
Goths ! " And he held out his right hand to the
awe-struck ring, and burst into an agony of weep-
ing. ... A clotted tress of long fair hair lay in
his palm.
It was snatched ; handed from man to man. . . .
Nemesis 273
One after another recognized the beloved golden
locks. And then, to the utter astonishment of the
girls who stood round, the great simple hearts, too
brave to be ashamed of tears, broke out, and wailed
like children. . . . Their Amal ! Their heavenly
man ! Odin's own son, their joy and pride, and
glory ! Their " Kingdom of heaven," as his name
declared him, who was all that each wished to be,
and more, and yet belonged to them, bone of their
bone, flesh of their flesh 1 Ah, it is bitter to all
true human hearts to be robbed of their ideal,
even though that ideal be that of a mere wild bull,
and soulless gladiator. . . .
At last Smid spoke :
" Heroes, this is Odin's doom ; and the All-
father is just. Had we listened to Prince Wulf
four months ago, this had never been. We have
been cowards and sluggards, and Odin is angry
with his children. Let us swear to be Prince
Wulf s men and follow him to-morrow where he
will ! "
Wulf grasped his outstretched hand lovingly :
" No, Smid, son of Troll ! These words are not
yours to speak. Agilmund son of Cniva, Goderic
son of Ermenric, you are Baits, and to you the
succession appertains. Draw lots here, which of
you shall be our chieftain."
" No ! no ! Wulf! " cried both the youths at once.
" You are the hero ! you are the Sagaman ! We
are not worthy ; we have been cowards and slug-
gards, like the rest Wolves of the Goths, follow
the Wulf, even though he lead you to the land of
the giants ! "
A roar of applause followed.
" Lift him on the shield," cried Goderic, tearing
274 Hypatia
off his buckler. " Lift him on the shield ! Hail,
Wulf king! Wulf, king of Egypt!"
And the rest of the Goths, attracted by the
noise, rushed up the tower-stairs in time to join in
the mighty shout of " Wulf, king of Egypt ! " as
careless of the vast multitude which yelled and
surged without, as boys are of the snow against
the window-pane.
" No ! " said Wulf, solemnly, as he stood on the
uplifted shield. " If I be indeed your king, and
ye my men, wolves of the Goths, to-morrow we
will go forth of this place, hated of Odin, rank
with the innocent blood of the Alruna maid. Back
to Adolf; back to our own people ! Will you
go?"
" Back to Adolf! " shouted the men.
" You will not leave us to be murdered ? " cried
one of the girls. " The mob are breaking the gates
already!"
" Silence, silly one ! Men we have one thing
to do. The Amal must not go to the Valhalla
without fair attendance."
"Not the poor girls?" said Agilmund, who
took for granted that Wulf would wish to cele-
brate the Amal's funeral in true Gothic fashion by
a slaughter of slaves.
" No. . . . One of them I saw behave this very
afternoon worthy of a Vala. And they, too
they may make heroes' wives after all, yet. . . .
Women are better than I fancied, even the worst
of them. No. Go down, heroes, and throw the
gates open ; and call in the Greek hounds to the
funeral supper of a son of Odin."
" Throw the gates open ? "
" Yes. Goderic, take a dozen men, and be
Nemesis 275
ready in the east hall. Agilmund, go with a dozen
to the west side of the court there in the kitchen ;
and wait till you hear my war-cry. Smid and the
rest of you, come with me through the stables
close to the gate as silent as Hela."
And they went down to meet, full on the
stairs below, old Miriam.
Breathless and exhausted by her exertion, she
had fallen heavily before Philammon's strong arm ;
and lying half stunned for a while, recovered just
in time to meet her doom.
She knew that it was come, and faced it like
herself.
" Take the witch ! " said Wulf, slowly " Take
the corrupter of heroes the cause of all our
sorrows ! "
Miriam looked at him with a quiet smile.
" The witch is accustomed long ago to hear
fools lay on her the consequences of their own
lust and laziness."
" Hew her down, Smid, son of Troll, that she
may pass the Amal's soul and gladden it on her
way to Niflheim."
Smid did it: but so terrible were the eyes
which glared upon him from those sunken sockets,
that his sight was dazzled. The axe turned aside,
and struck her shoulder. She reeled, but did not
fall.
" It is enough," she said, quietly.
" The accursed Grendel's daughter numbed my
arm ! " said Smid. " Let her go ! No man shall
say that I struck a woman twice."
" Nidhogg waits for her, soon or late," answered
Wulf.
And Miriam, coolly folding her shawl around
276 Hypatia
her, turned and walked steadily down the stair;
while all men breathed more freely, as if delivered
from some accursed and supernatural spell.
" And now," said Wulf, " to your posts, and
vengeance
The mob had weltered and howled ineffectually
around the house for some half-hour. But the
lofty walls, opening on the street only by a few
narrow windows in the higher stories, rendered it
an impregnable fortress. Suddenly, the iron gates
were drawn back, disclosing to the front rank the
court, glaring empty and silent and ghastly in the
moonlight. For an instant they recoiled, with a
vague horror, and dread of treachery: but the
mass behind pressed them onward, and in swept
the murderers of Hypatia, till the court was full
of choking wretches, surging against the walls and
pillars in aimless fury. And then, from under the
archway on each side, rushed a body of tall armed
men, driving back all incomers more; the gates
slid together again upon their grooves; and the
wild beasts of Alexandria were trapped at last.
And then began a murder grim and great. From
three different doors issued a line of Goths, whose
helmets and mailshirts made them invulnerable to
the clumsy weapons of the mob, and began hew-
ing their way right through the living mass, help-
less from their close-packed array. True, they
were but as one to ten ; but what are ten curs be-
fore one lion? . . . And the moon rose higher
and higher, staring down ghastly and unmoved
upon that doomed court of the furies, and still
the bills and swords hewed on and on, and the
Goths drew the corpses, as they found room,
towards a dark pile in the midst, where old Wulf
Nemesis 277
sat upon a heap of slain, singing the praises of
the Amal and the glories of Valhalla, while the
shrieks of his lute rose shrill above the shrieks of
the flying and the wounded, and its wild waltz-
time danced and rollicked on swifter and swifter
as the old singer maddened, in awful mockery of
the terror and agony around.
And so, by men and purposes which recked
not of her, as is the wont of Providence, was the
blood of Hypatia avenged in part that night.
In part only. For Peter the Reader, and his
especial associates, were safe in sanctuary at the
Caesareium, clinging to the altar. Terrified at the
storm which they had raised, and fearing the con-
sequences of an attack upon the palace, they had
left the mob to run riot at its will ; and escaped
the swords of the Goths, to be reserved for the
more awful punishment of impunity.
CHAPTER XXX
EVERY MAN TO HIS OWN PLACE
IT was near midnight. Raphael had been sit-
ting some three hours in Miriam's inner
chamber, waiting in vain for her return. To re-
cover, if possible, his ancestral wealth ; to convey
it, without a day's delay, to Cyrene ; and, if possi-
ble, to persuade the poor old Jewess to accom-
pany him, and there to soothe, to guide, perhaps
to convert her, was his next purpose : at all
events, with or without his wealth, to flee from
that accursed city. And he counted impatiently
the slow hours and minutes which detained him in
an atmosphere which seemed reeking with inno-
cent blood, black with the lowering curse of an
avenging God. More than once, unable to bear
the thought, he rose to depart, and leave his
wealth behind: but he was checked again by
the thought of his own past life. How had he
added his own sin to the great heap of Alexan-
drian wickedness ! How had he tempted others,
pampered others in evil ! Good God ! how had
he not only done evil with all his might, but had
pleasure in those who did the same ! And now,
now he was reaping the fruit of his own devices.
For years past, merely to please his lust of power,
his misanthropic scorn, he had been making
that wicked Orestes wickeder than he was even
Every Man to his own Place 279
by his own base will and nature; and his pup-
pet had avenged itself upon him ! He, he had
prompted him to ask Hypatia's hand. . . . He had
laid, half in sport, half in envy of her excellence,
that foul plot against the only human being whom
he loved . . . and he had destroyed her! He,
and not Peter, was the murderer of Hypatia !
True, he had never meant her death. . . . No;
but had he not meant for her worse than death?
He had never foreseen. . . . No; but only be-
cause he did not choose to foresee. He had
chosen to be a god; to kill and to make alive
by his own will and law; and behold, he had
become a devil by that very act Who can
and who dare, even if he could withdraw the
sacred veil from those bitter agonies of inward
shame and self-reproach, made all the more in-
tense by his clear and undoubting knowledge
that he was forgiven? What dread of punish-
ment, what blank despair, could have pierced
that great heart so deeply as did the thought
that the God whom he had hated and defied had
returned him good for evil, and rewarded him
not according to his iniquities? That discovery,
as Ezekiel of old had warned his forefathers,
filled up the cup of his self-loathing. . . . To
have found at last the hated and dreaded name
of God : and found that it was Love ! . . . To
possess Victoria, a living, human likeness, how-
ever imperfect, of that God; and to possess in
her a home, a duty, a purpose, a fresh clear
life of righteous labor, perhaps of final vic-
tory. . . . That was his punishment; that was
the brand of Cain upon his forehead; and he
felt it greater than he could bear.
280 Hypatia
But at least there was one thing to be done.
Where he had sinned, there he must make
amends; not as a propitiation, not even as a
restitution; but simply as a confession of the
truth which he had found. And as his pur-
pose shaped itself, he longed and prayed that
Miriam might return, and make it possible.
And Miriam did return. He heard her pass
slowly through the outer room, learn from the
girls who was within, order them out of the
apartments, close the outer door upon them ;
at last she entered, and said quietly:
" Welcome ! I have expected you. You could
not surprise old Miriam. The teraph told me last
night that you would be here." . . .
Did she see the smile of incredulity upon
Raphael's face, or was it some sudden pang of
conscience which made her cry out:
"... No ! I did not ! I never expected you !
I am a liar, a miserable old liar, who cannot
speak the truth, even if I try ! Only look kind !
Smile at me, Raphael! Raphael come back at
last to his poor, miserable, villainous old mother I
Smile on me but once, my beautiful, my son ! my
son!"
And springing to him, she clasped him in her
arms.
"Your son?"
" Yes, my son ! Safe at last ! Mine at last !
I can prove it now! The son of my womb,
though not the son of my vows ! " And she
laughed hysterically. " My child, my heir, for
whom I have toiled and hoarded for three-and-
thirty years ! Quick ! here are my keys. In that
cabinet are all my papers all I have is yours.
Every Man to his own Place 281
Your jewels are safe buried with mine. The
negro-woman, Eudaemon's wife, knows where. I
made her swear secrecy upon her little wooden
idol, and, Christian as she is, she has been honest.
Make her rich for life. She hid your poor old
mother, and kept her safe to see her boy come
home. But give nothing to her little husband:
he is a bad fellow, and beats her. Go, quick!
take your riches, and away! . . . No; stay one
moment just one little moment that the poor
old wretch may feast her eyes with the sight of
her darling once more before she dies ! "
"Before you die? Your son? God of my
fathers, what is the meaning of all this, Miriam?
This morning I was the son of Ezra the mer-
chant of Antioch ! "
" His son and heir, his son and heir ! He knew
all at last. We told him on his death-bed ! I
swear that we told him, and he adopted you ! "
"We! Who?"
" His wife and I. He craved for a child, the
old miser, and we gave him one a better one
than ever came of his family. But he loved you,
accepted you, though he did know all. He was
afraid of being laughed at after he was dead
afraid of having it known that he was childless,
the old dotard! No he was right true Jew
in that, after all!"
"Who was my father, then?" interrupted
Raphael, in utter bewilderment.
The old woman laughed a laugh so long and
wild, that Raphael shuddered.
" Sit down at your mother's feet. Sit down
. . . just to please the poor old thing! Even if
you do not believe her, just play at being her
282 Hypatia
child, her darling, for a minute before she dies;
and she will tell you all ... perhaps there is
time yet!"
And he sat down. ..." What if this incarna-
tion of all wickedness were really my mother?
. . . And yet why should I shrink thus proudly
from the notion ? Am I so pure myself as to de-
serve a purer source ? " . . . And the old woman
laid her hand fondly on his head, and her skinny
fingers played with his soft locks, as she spoke
hurriedly and thick.
" Of the house of Jesse, of the seed of Solomon ;
not a rabbi from Babylon to Rome dare deny that !
A king's daughter I am, and a king's heart I had,
and have, like Solomon's own, my son ! . . . A
kingly heart. ... It made me dread and scorn to
be a slave, a plaything, a soulless doll, such as
Jewish women are condemned to be by their
tyrants, the men. I craved for wisdom, re-
nown, power power power ! and my nation
refused them to me; because, forsooth, I was a
woman ! So I left them. I went to the Christian
priests. . . . They gave me what I asked. . . .
They gave me more. . . . They pampered my
woman's vanity, my pride, my self-will, my scorn
of wedded bondage, and bade me be a saint, the
judge of angels and archangels, the bride of God !
Liars ! liars ! And so if you laugh, you kill me,
Raphael and so Miriam, the daughter of Jona-
than Miriam, of the house of David Miriam
the descendant of Ruth and Rachab, of Rachel
and Sara, became a Christian nun, and shut her-
self up to see visions, and dream dreams, and fat-
tened her own mad self-conceit upon the impious
fancy that she was the spouse of the Nazarene,
Every Man to his own Place 283
Joshua Bar-Joseph, whom she called Jehovah Ishi
Silence ! If you stop me a moment, it may be
too late. I hear them calling me already ; and I
made them promise not to take me before I had
told all to my son the son of my shame ! "
" Who calls you ? " asked Raphael ; but after
one long shudder she ran on unheeding:
" But they lied, lied, lied ! I found them out
that day. . . . Do not look up at me, and I will
tell you all. There was a riot a fight between
the Christian devils and the heathen devils and
the convent was sacked, Raphael, my son !
Sacked ! . . . Then I found out their blasphemy.
. . . Oh, God ! I shrieked to Him, Raphael ! I
called on Him to rend His heavens and come
down to pour out His thunder-bolts upon
them to cleave the earth and devour them
to save the wretched helpless girl who adored
Him, who had given up father, mother, kinsfolk,
wealth, the light of heaven, womanhood itself for
Him who worshipped, meditated over Him,
dreamed of Him night and day. . . . And,
Raphael, He did not hear me. . . . He did not
hear me ... did not hear me ! ... And then
I knew it all for a lie ! a lie ! "
" And you knew it for what it is ! " cried Raphael
through his sobs, as he thought of Victoria, and felt
every vein burning with righteous wrath.
" There was no mistaking that test, was there?
. . . For nine months I was mad. And then your
voice, my baby, my joy, my pride that brought
me to myself once more ! And I shook off the
dust of my feet against those Galilean priests and
went back to my own nation, where God had set
me from the beginning. I made them the rab-
Vol. 713
284 Hypatia
bis, my father, my kin I made them all receive
me. They could not stand before my eye. I can
make people do what I will, Raphael ! I could
I could make you emperor now, if I had but time
left ! I went back. I palmed you off on Ezra as
his son, I and his wife, and made him believe that
you had been born to him while he was in Byzan-
tium. . . . And then to live for you ! And I
did live for you. For you I travelled from India
to Britain, seeking wealth. For you I toiled,
hoarded, lied, intrigued, won money by every
means, no matter how base for was it not for
you ? And I have conquered ! You are the rich-
est Jew south of the Mediterranean, you, my son !
And you deserve your wealth. You have your
mother's soul in you, my boy ! I watched you,
gloried in you in your cunning, your daring,
your learning, your contempt for these Gentile
hounds. You felt the royal blood of Solomon
within you ! You felt that you were a young lion
of Judah, and they the jackals who followed to
feed upon your leavings ! And now, now ! Your
only danger is past ! The cunning woman is gone
the sorceress who tried to take my young lion
in her pit-fall, and has fallen into the midst of it
herself; and he is safe, and returned to take the
nations for a prey, and grind their bones to pow-
der, as it is written, ' He couched like a lion, he lay
down like a lioness's whelp, and who dare rouse
him up?'"
" Stop ! " said Raphael, " I must speak ! Mother !
I must! As you love me, as you expect me to
love you, answer ! Had you a hand in her death?
Speak!"
" Did I not tell you that I was no more a Chris-
Every Man to his own Place 285
tian? Had I remained one who can tell what I
might not have done ? All I, the Jewess, dare do
was Fool that I am ! I have forgotten all this
time the proof the proof "
" I need no proof, mother. Your words are
enough," said Raphael, as he clasped her hand
between his own, and pressed it to his burning
forehead. But the old woman hurried on:
" See ! See the black agate which you gave
her in your madness ! "
" How did you obtain that?"
" I stole it stole it, my son ; as thieves steal,
and are crucified for stealing. What was the
chance of the cross to a mother yearning for her
child ? to a mother who put round her baby's
neck, three-and-thirty black years ago, that
broken agate, and kept the other half next her
own heart by day and night? See! See how
they fit ! Look, and believe your poor old sin-
ful mother ! Look, I say ! " and she thrust the
talisman into his hands.
" Now, let me die ! I vowed never to tell this
secret but to you : never to tell it to you, until the
night I died. Farewell, my son ! Kiss me but
once once, my child, my joy ! Oh, this makes
up for all ! Makes up even for that day, the last
on which I ever dreamed myself the bride of the
Nazarene ! "
Raphael felt that he must speak, now or never.
Though it cost him the loss of all his wealth, and
a mother's curse, he must speak. And not daring
to look up, he said gently:
" Men have lied to you about Him, mother: but
has He ever lied to you about Himself? He did
not lie to me when He sent me out into the world
286 Hypatia
to find a man, and sent me back again to you with
the good news that The Man is born into the
world."
But to his astonishment, instead of the burst
of bigoted indignation which he had expected,
Miriam answered in a low, confused, abstracted
voice :
"And did He send you hither? Well that
was more like what I used to fancy Him. ... A
grand thought it is after all a Jew the king of
heaven and earth ! . . . Well I shall know soon.
... I loved Him once, . . . and perhaps . . .
perhaps" . . .
Why did her head drop heavily upon his
shoulder? He turned a dark stream of blood
was flowing from her lips ! He sprang to his feet.
The girls rushed in. They tore open her shawl,
and saw the ghastly wound, which she had hidden
with such iron resolution to the last. But it was
too late. Miriam the daughter of Solomon was
gone to her own place.
Early the next morning, Raphael was standing
in Cyril's anteroom, awaiting an audience. There
were loud voices within ; and after a while a trib-
une whom he knew well hurried out, muttering
curses :
" What brings you here, friend ? " said Raphael.
"The scoundrel will not give them up," answered
he, in an undertone.
" Give up whom?"
'"The murderers. They are in sanctuary now
at the Caesareium. Orestes sent me to demand
them : and this fellow defies him openly ! " And
the tribune hurried out.
Every Man to his own Place 287
Raphael, sickened with disgust, half-turned to fol-
low him : but his better angel conquered, and he
obeyed the summons of the deacon who ushered
him in.
Cyril was walking up and down, according to
his custom, with great strides. When he saw who
was his visitor, he stopped short with a look of
fierce inquiry. Raphael entered on business at
once, with a cold calm voice.
" You know me, doubtless ; and you know what
I was. I am now a Christian catechumen. I
come to make such restitution as I can for certain
past ill-deeds done in this city. You will find
among these papers the trust-deeds for such a
yearly sum of money as will enable you to hire
a house of refuge for a hundred fallen women, and
give such dowries to thirty of them yearly as will
enable them to find suitable husbands. I have set
down every detail of my plan. On its exact fulfil-
ment depends the continuance of my gift."
Cyril took the document eagerly, and was break-
ing out with some commonplace about pious
benevolence, when the Jew stopped him.
" Your Holiness's compliments are unnecessary.
It is to your office, not to yourself, that this busi-
ness relates."
Cyril, whose conscience was ill enough at ease
that morning, felt abashed before Raphael's dry
and quiet manner, which bespoke, as he well knew,
reproof more severe than all open upbraidings.
So looking down, not without something like a
blush, he ran his eye hastily over the paper ; and
then said, in his blandest tone :
" My brother will forgive me for remarking, that
while I acknowledge his perfect right to dispose of
288 Hypatia
his charities as he will, it is somewhat startling to me
as Metropolitan of Egypt, to find not only the
Abbot Isidore of Pelusium, but the secular Defender
of the Plebs, a civil officer, implicated, too, in the
late conspiracy, associated with me as co-trustees."
" I have taken the advice of more than one
Christian bishop on the matter. I acknowledge
your authority by my presence here. If the
Scriptures say rightly, the civil magistrates are as
much God's ministers as you ; and I am therefore
bound to acknowledge their authority also. I
should have preferred associating the prefect with
you in the trust : but as your dissensions with the
present occupant of that post might have crippled
my scheme, I have named the Defender of the
Plebs, and have already put into his hands a copy
of this document. Another copy has been sent to
Isidore, who is empowered to receive all moneys
from my Jewish bankers in Pelusium."
" You doubt, then, either my ability or my hon-
esty?" said Cyril, who was becoming somewhat
nettled.
" If your Holiness dislikes my offer, it is easy
to omit your name in the deed. One word more.
If you deliver up to justice the murderers of my
friend Hypatia, I double my bequest on the spot."
Cyril burst out instantly :
" Thy money perish with thee ! Do you pre-
sume to bribe me into delivering up my children
to the tyrant ! "
" I offer to give you the means of showing more
mercy, provided that you will first do simple justice."
"Justice?" cried Cyril. "Justice? If it be
just that Peter should die, sir, see first whether it
was not just that Hypatia should die. Not that I
Every Man to his own Place 289
compassed it. As I live, I would have given my
own right hand that this had not happened ! But
now that it is done let those who talk of justice
look first in which scale of the balance it lies !
Do you fancy, sir, that the people do not know
their enemies from their friends? Do you fancy
that they are to sit with folded hands, while a
pedant makes common cause with a profligate, to
drag them back again into the very black gulf of
outer darkness, ignorance, brutal lust, grinding
slavery, from which the Son of God died to free
them, from which they are painfully and slowly
struggling upward to the light of day? You, sir,
if you be a Christian catechumen, should know
for yourself what would have been the fate of
Alexandria had the devil's plot of two days since
succeeded. What if the people struck too fiercely?
They struck in the right place. What if they
have given the reins to passions fit only for
heathens? Recollect the centuries of heathendom
which bred those passions in them, and blame not
my teaching, but the teaching of their forefathers.
That very Peter. . . . What if he have for once
given place to the devil, and avenged where he
should have forgiven? Has he no memories
which may excuse him for fancying, in a just par-
oxysm of dread, that idolatry and falsehood must
be crushed at any risk? He who counts back
for now three hundred years, in persecution after
persecution, martyrs, sir ! martyrs if you know
what that word implies of his own blood and
kin; who, when he was but a seven years' boy,
saw his own father made a sightless cripple to
this day, and his elder sister, a consecrated nun,
devoured alive by swine in the open streets, at the
290 Hypatia
hands of those who supported the very philosophy,
the very gods, which Hypatia attempted yesterday
to restore. God shall judge such a man; not I,
nor you ! "
" Let God judge him, then, by delivering him
to God's minister."
" God's minister? That heathen and apostate
prefect? When he has expiated his apostasy by
penance, and returned publicly to the bosom of
the Church, it will be time enough to obey him:
till then he is the minister of none but the devil.
And no ecclesiastic shall suffer at the tribunal of
an infidel. Holy Writ forbids us to go to law
before the unjust. Let the world say of me what
it will. I defy it and its rulers. I have to estab-
lish the kingdom of God in this city, and do it I
will, knowing that other foundation can no man
lay than that which is laid, which is Christ."
" Wherefore you proceed to lay it afresh. A
curious method of proving that it is laid already."
" What do you mean?" asked Cyril, angrily.
" Simply that God's kingdom, if it exist at all,
must be a sort of kingdom, considering Who is
the King of it, which would have established
itself without your help some time since; prob-
ably, indeed, if the Scriptures of my Jewish fore-
fathers are to be believed, before the foundation of
the world ; and that your business was to believe
that God was King of Alexandria, and had put
the Roman law there to crucify all murderers,
ecclesiastics included, and that crucified they must
be accordingly, as high as Haman himself."
" I will hear no more of this, sir ! I am responsi-
ble to God alone, and not to you : let it be enough
that by virtue of the authority committed to me, I
Every Man to his own Place 291
shall cut off these men from the Church of God, by
solemn excommunication, for three years to come."
"They are not cut off, then, it seems, as yet?"
" I tell you, sir, that I shall cut them off! Do
you come here to doubt my word ? "
" Not in the least, most august sir. But I should
have fancied that, according to my carnal notions
of God's Kingdom and the Church, they had cut
off themselves most effectually already, from the
moment when they cast away the Spirit of God,
and took to themselves the spirit of murder and
cruelty; and that all which your most just and
laudable excommunication could effect, would be
to inform the public of that fact However, fare-
well ! My money shall be forthcoming in due
time ; and that is the most important matter be-
tween us at this moment. As for your client
Peter and his fellows, perhaps the most fearful
punishment which can befall them, is to go on as
they have begun. I only hope that you will not
follow in the same direction."
"I?" cried Cyril, trembling with rage.
" Really I wish your Holiness well when I say
so. If my notions seem to you somewhat secular,
yours forgive me seem to me somewhat athe-
istic ; and I advise you honestly to take care lest
while you are busy trying to establish God's king-
dom, you forget what it is like, by shutting your
eyes to those of its laws which are established
already. I have no doubt that with your Holi-
ness's great powers you will succeed in establish-
ing something. My only dread is, that when it is
established, you should discover to your horror
that it is the devil's kingdom and not God's."
And without waiting for an answer, Raphael
292 Hypatia
bowed himself out of the august presence, and sail-
ing for Berenice that very day, with Eudsemon and
his negro wife, went to his own place; there to
labor and to succor, a sad and stern, and yet a loving
and a much-loved man, for many a year to come.
And now we will leave Alexandria also, and
taking a forward leap of some twenty years, see
how all other persons mentioned in this history
went, likewise, each to his own place.
A little more than twenty years after, the wisest
and holiest man in the East was writing of Cyril,
just deceased :
" His death made those who survived him joy-
ful ; but it grieved most probably the dead ; and
there is cause to fear, lest, finding his presence
too troublesome, they should send him back to
us. ... May it come to pass, by your prayers,
that he may obtain mercy and forgiveness, that
the immeasurable grace of God may prevail over
his wickedness ! " . . .
So wrote Theodoret in days when men had not
yet intercalated into Holy Writ that line of an ob-
scure modern hymn, which proclaims to man the
good news that "There is no repentance in the
grave." Let that be as it may, Cyril has gone to
his own place. What that place is in history is but
too well known. What it is in the sight of Him
unto whom all live for ever, is no concern of ours.
May He whose mercy is over all His works, have
mercy upon all, whether orthodox or unorthodox,
Papist or Protestant, who, like Cyril, begin by
lying for the cause of truth ; and setting off upon
that evil road, arrive surely, with the Scribes and
Pharisees of old, sooner or later at their own place 1
Every Man to his own Place 293
True, he and his monks had conquered; but
Hypatia did not die unavenged. In the hour of
that unrighteous victory, the Church of Alexandria
received a deadly wound. It had admitted and
sanctioned those habits of doing evil that good
may come, of pious intrigue, and at last of
open persecution, which are certain to creep in
wheresoever men attempt to set up a merely
religious empire, independent of human relation-
ships and civil laws ; "to establish," in short,
a " theocracy," and by that very act confess
their secret disbelief that God is ruling already.
And the Egyptian Church grew, year by year,
more lawless and inhuman. Freed from enemies
without, and from the union which fear compels,
it turned its ferocity inward, to prey on its own
vitals, and to tear itself in pieces by a voluntary
suicide, with mutual anathemas and exclusions,
till it ended as a mere chaos of idolatrous sects,
persecuting each other for metaphysical proposi-
tions, which, true or false, were equally heretical
in their mouths, because they used them only as
watchwords of division. Orthodox or unorthodox,
they knew not God, for they knew neither right-
eousness, nor love, nor peace. . . . They " hated
their brethren, and walked on still in darkness,
not knowing 'whither they were going "... till
Amrou and his Mohammedans appeared; and
whether they discovered the fact or not, they went
to their own place. . . .
Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind ex-
ceedingly small ;
Though He stands and waits with patience, with exactness
grinds He all.
294 Hypatia
And so found, in due time, the philosophers as
well as the ecclesiastics of Alexandria.
Twenty years after Hypatia's death, philosophy
was flickering down to the very socket. Hypatia's
murder was its death-blow. In language tremen-
dous and unmistakable, philosophers had been in-
formed that mankind had done with them; that
they had been weighed in the balances, and found
wanting; that if they had no better gospel than
that to preach, they must make way for those who
had. And they did make way. We hear little or
nothing of them or their wisdom henceforth, ex-
cept at Athens, where Proclus, Marinus, Isidore,
and others, kept up " the golden chain of the
Platonic succession," and descended deeper and
deeper, one after the other, into the realms of
confusion confusion of the material with the
spiritual, of the subject with the object, the moral
with the intellectual; self-consistent in one thing
only, namely, in their exclusive pharisaism ;
utterly unable to proclaim any good news for man
as man, or even to conceive of the possibility of
such, and -gradually looking with more and more
complacency on all superstitions which did not
involve that one idea, which alone they hated,
namely, the Incarnation; craving after signs and
wonders, dabbling in magic, astrofogy, and bar-
barian fetichisms; bemoaning the fallen age, and
barking querulously at every form of human
thought except their own ; writing pompous biog-
raphies, full of bad Greek, worse taste, and still
worse miracles. . . .
That last drear mood
Of envious sloth, and proud decrepitude ;
JSo faith, no art, no king, no priest, no God;
Every Man to his own Place 295
While round the freezing founts of life in snarling ring,
Crouch'd on the bareworn sod,
Babbling about the unreturning spring,
And whining for dead gods, who cannot save,
The toothless systems shiver to their grave.
The last scene of their tragedy was not without
a touch of pathos. ... In the year 529, Justinian
finally closed, by imperial edict, the schools of
Athens. They had nothing more to tell the world,
but what the world had yawned over a thousand
times before : why should they break the blessed
silence by any more such noises? The philos-
ophers felt so themselves. They had no mind to
be martyrs, for they had nothing for which to
testify. They had no message for mankind, and
mankind no interest for them. All that was left
for them was to take care of their own souls ; and
fancying that they saw something like Plato's ideal
republic in the pure monotheism of the Guebres,
their philosophic emperor the Khozroo, and his
holy caste of magi, seven of them set off to Persia,
to forget the hateful existence of Christianity in
that realized ideal. Alas for the facts! The
purest monotheism, they discovered, was perfectly
compatible with bigotry and ferocity, luxury and
tyranny, serails and bowstrings, incestuous mar-
riages and corpses exposed to the beasts of the
field and the fowls of the air; and in reasonable
fear for their own necks, the last seven sages of
Greece returned home weary-hearted, into the
Christian Empire from which they had fled, fully
contented with the permission, which the Khozroo
had obtained for. them from Justinian, to hold
their peace, and die among decent people. So
among decent people they died, leaving behind
296 Hypatia
them, as their last legacy to mankind, Simplicity's
Commentaries on Epictetus's Enchiridion, an essay
on the art of egotism, by obeying which, whoso-
ever list may become as perfect a Pharisee as ever
darkened the earth of God. Peace be to their
ashes ! . . . They are gone to their own place.
Wulf, too, had gone to his own place, whereso-
ever that may be. He died in Spain, full of years
and honors, at the court of Adolf and Placidia,
having resigned his sovereignty into the hands
of his lawful chieftain, and having lived long
enough to see Goderic and his younger compan-
ions in arms settled with their Alexandrian brides
up on the sunny slopes from which they had ex-
pelled the Vandals and the Suevi, to be the ances-
tors of "bluest-blooded" Castilian nobles. Wulf
died, as he had lived, a heathen. Placidia, who
loved him well, as she loved all righteous and
noble souls, had succeeded once in persuading
him to accept baptism. Adolf himself acted as
one of his sponsors ; and the old warrior was in
the act of stepping into the font, when he turned
suddenly to the bishop, and asked where were the
souls of his heathen ancestors? " In hell," replied
the worthy prelate. Wulf drew back from the
font, and threw his bearskin cloak around him. . . .
He would prefer, if Adolf had no objection, to go
to his own people. l And so he died unbaptized,
and went to his own place.
Victoria was still alive and busy: but Augus-
tine's warning had come true she had found
trouble in the flesh. The day of the Lord had
come, and Vandal tyrants were now the masters
i A fact.
Every Man to his own Place 297
of the fair corn-lands of Africa. Her father and
brother were lying by the side of Raphael Aben-
Ezra, beneath the ruined walls of Hippo, slain,
long years before, in the vain attempt to deliver
their country from the invading swarms. But
they had died the death of heroes ; and Victoria
was content. And it was whispered, among the
down-trodden Catholics, who clung to her as an
angel of mercy, that she, too, had endured strange
misery and disgrace ; that her delicate limbs bore
the scars of fearful tortures; that a room in her
house, into which none ever entered but herself,
contained a young boy's grave; and that she
passed long nights of prayer upon the spot, where
lay her only child, martyred by the hands of Arian
persecutors. Nay, some of the few who, having
dared to face that fearful storm, had survived its
fury, asserted that she herself, amid her own shame
and agony, had cheered the shrinking boy on to
his glorious death. But though she had found
trouble in the flesh, her spirit knew none. Clear-
eyed and joyful as when she walked by her father's
side on the field of Ostia, she went to and fro
among the victims of Vandal rapine and persecu-
tion, spending upon the maimed, the sick, the
ruined, the small remnants of her former wealth, and
winning, by her purity and her piety, the reverence
and favor even of the barbarian conquerors. She
had her work to do, and she did it, and was content;
and, in good time, she also went to her own place.
Abbot Pambo, as well as Arsenius, had been
dead several years; the abbot's place was filled,
by his own dying command, by a hermit from the
neighboring deserts, who had made himself
famous for many miles round, by his extraordinary
298 Hypatia
austerities, his ceaseless prayers, his loving wisdom,
and, it was rumored, by various cures which
could only be attributed to miraculous powers.
While still in the prime of his manhood, he was
dragged, against his own entreaties, from a lofty
cranny of the cliffs to preside over the Laura of
Scetis, and ordained a deacon at the advice of
Pambo, by the bishop of the diocese, who, three
years afterwards, took on himself to command
him to enter the priesthood. The elder monks
considered it an indignity to be ruled by so young
a man : but the monastery throve and grew rapidly
under his government. His sweetness, patience,
and humility, and above all, his marvellous under-
standing of the doubts and temptations of his own
generation, soon drew around him all whose sensi-
tiveness or waywardness had made them unman-
ageable in the neighboring monasteries. As to
David in the mountains, so to him, every one who
was discontented, and every one who was oppressed,
gathered themselves. The neighboring abbots
were at first inclined to shrink from him, as one
who ate and drank with publicans and sinners:
but they held their peace, when they saw those
whom they had driven out as reprobates laboring
peacefully and cheerfully under Philammon. The
elder generation of Scetis, too, saw, with some
horror, the new influx of sinners : but their abbot
had but one answer to their remonstrances:
" Those who are whole need not a physician, but
those who are sick."
Never was the young abbot heard to speak
harshly of any human being. " When thou hast
tried in vain for seven years," he used to say, " to
convert a sinner, then only wilt thou have a right
Every Man to his own Place 299
to suspect him of being a worse man than thyself."
That there is a seed of good in all men, a Divine
Word and Spirit striving with all men, a gospel
and good news which would turn the hearts of all
men, if abbots and priests could but preach it
aright, was his favorite doctrine, and one which he
used to defend, when, at rare intervals, he allowed
himself to discuss any subject, from the writings
of his favorite theologian, Clement of Alexandria.
Above all, he stopped, by stern rebuke, any
attempt to revile either heretics or heathens. " On
the Catholic Church alone," he used to say, " lies
the blame of all heresy and unbelief: for if she
were but for one day that which she ought to be,
the world would be converted before nightfall."
To one class of sins, indeed, he was inexorable
all but ferocious ; to the sins, namely, of religious
persons. In proportion to any man's reputation
for orthodoxy and sanctity, Philammon's judg-
ment of him was stern and pitiless. More than
once events proved him to have been unjust: when
he saw himself to be so, none could confess his
mistake more frankly, or humiliate himself for it
more bitterly : but from his rule he never swerved ;
and the Pharisees of the Nile dreaded and avoided
him, as much as the publicans and sinners loved
and followed him.
One thing only in his conduct gave some handle
for scandal, among the just persons who needed
no repentance. It was well known that in his
most solemn devotions, on those long nights of
unceasing prayer and self-discipline, which won
him a reputation for superhuman sanctity, there
mingled always with his prayers the names of two
women. And, when some worthy elder, taking
300 Hypatia
courage from his years, dared to hint kindly to
him that such conduct caused some scandal to the
weaker brethren, " It is true," answered he ; " tell
my brethren that I pray nightly for two women :
both of them young; both of them beautiful;
both of them beloved by me more than I love my
own soul; and tell them, moreover, that one of
the two was a harlot, and the other a heathen."
The old monk laid his hand on his mouth, and
retired.
The remainder of his history it seems better to
extract from an unpublished fragment of the
Hagiologia Nilotica of Graidiocolosyrtus Tabenni-
ticus, the greater part of which valuable work was
destroyed at the taking of Alexandria under
Amrou, A.D. 640.
" Now when the said abbot had ruled the mon-
astery of Scetis seven years with uncommon pru-
dence, resplendent in virtue and in miracles, it
befell that one morning he was fate for the Divine
office. Whereon a certain ancient brother, who
was also a deacon, being sent to ascertain the
cause of so unwonted a defection, found the holy
man extended upon the floor of his cell, like
Balaam in the flesh, though far differing from him
in the spirit, having fallen into a trance, but hav-
ing his eyes open. Who, not daring to arouse
him, sat by him until the hour of noon, judging
rightly that something from heaven had befallen
him. And at that hour, the saint arising without
astonishment, said, ' Brother, make ready for me
the divine elements, that I may consecrate them.'
And he asking the reason wherefore, the saint
replied, ' That I may partake thereof with all
my brethren, ere I depart hence. For know
Every Man to his own Place 301
assuredly that, within the seventh day, I shall
migrate to the celestial mansions. For this night
stopd by me in a dream, those two women, whom
I love, and for whom I pray ; the one clothed in a
white, the other in a ruby-colored garment, and
holding each other by the hand ; who said to me,
" That life after death is not such a one as you
fancy: come, therefore, and behold with us what
it is like." ' Troubled at which words, the deacon
went forth : yet on account not only of holy obe-
dience, but also of the sanctity of the blessed
abbot, did not hesitate to prepare according to his
command the divine elements; which the abbot
having consecrated, distributed among his breth-
ren, reserving only a portion of the most holy
bread and wine; and then, having bestowed on
them all the kiss of peace, he took the paten and
chalice in his hands, and went forth from the mon-
astery towards the desert ; whom the whole frater-
nity followed weeping, as knowing that they should
see his face no more. But he, having arrived at
the foot of a certain mountain, stopped, and bless-
ing them, commanded them that they should fol-
low him no farther, and dismissed them with these
words : ' As ye have been loved, so love. As ye
have been judged, so judge. As ye have been
forgiven, so forgive.' And so ascending, was taken
away from their eyes. Now they, returning aston-
ished, watched three days with prayer and fasting :
but at last the eldest brother, being ashamed, like
Elisha before the entreaties of Elijah's disciples,
sent two of the young men to seek their master.
" To whom befell a thing noteworthy and full of
miracles. For ascending the same mountain where
they had left the abbot, they met with a certain
302 Hypatia
Moorish people, not averse to the Christian verity,
who declare that certain days before a priest had
passed by them, bearing a paten and chalice, and
blessing them in silence, proceeded across the
desert in the direction of the cave of the holy
Amma.
" And they in miring who this Amma might be,
the Moors answered that some twenty years ago
there had arrived in those mountains a woman
more beautiful than had ever before been seen in
that region, dressed in rich garments ; who after a
short sojourn among their tribe, having distributed
among them the jewels which she wore, had em-
braced the eremitic life, and sojourned upon the
highest peak of a neighboring mountain ; till, her
garments failing her, she became invisible to man-
kind, saving to a few women of the tribe, who went
up from time to time to carry her offerings of fruit
and meal, and to ask the blessing of her prayers.
To whom she rarely appeared, veiled down to her
feet in black hair of exceeding length and splen-
dor.
" Hearing these things, the two brethren doubted
for a while: but at last, determining to proceed,
arrived at sunset upon the summit of the said
mountain.
" Where, behold a great miracle. For above an
open grave, freshly dug in the sand, a cloud of
vultures and obscene birds hovered, whom two
lions, fiercely contending, drove away with their
talons, as if from some sacred deposit therein en-
shrined. Towards whom the two brethren, fortify-
ing themselves with the sign of the holy cross,
ascended. Whereupon the lions, as having fulfilled
the term of their guardianship, retired ; and left to
Every Man to his own Place 303
the brethren a sight which they beheld with aston-
ishment, and not without tears.
" For in the open grave lay the body of Philam-
mon the abbot; and by his side, wrapt in his
cloak, the corpse of a woman of exceeding beauty,
such as the Moors had described. Whom embrac-
ing straitly, as a brother a sister, and joining his
lips to hers, he had rendered up his soul to God ;
not without bestowing on her, as it seemed, the
most holy sacrament ; for by the grave-side stood
the paten and the chalice emptied of their divine
contents.
" Having beheld which things awhile in silence,
they considered that the right understanding of
such matters pertained to the judgment-seat above,
and was unnecessary to be comprehended by men
consecrated to God. Whereon, filling in the grave
with all haste, they returned weeping to the Laura,
and declared to them the strange things which
they had beheld, and whereof I the writer, having
collected these facts from sacrosanct and most
trustworthy mouths, can only say that wisdom is
justified of all her children.
" Now, before they returned, one of the brethren
searching the cave wherein the holy woman dwelt,
found there neither food, furniture, or other
matters ; saving one bracelet of gold, of large size
and strange workmanship, engraven with foreign
characters, which no one could decipher. The
which bracelet, being taken home to the Laura of
Scetis, and there dedicated in the chapel to the
memory of the holy Amma, proved beyond all
doubt the sanctity of its former possessor, by the
miracles which its virtue worked ; the fame where-
of spreading abroad throughout the whole Thebaid,
304 Hypatia
drew innumerable crowds of suppliants to that
holy relic. But it came to pass, after the Vandalic
persecution wherewith Huneric and Genseric the
king devastated Africa, and enriched the Catholic
Church with innumerable martyrs, that certain
wandering barbarians of the Vandalic race, imbued
with the Arian pravity, and made insolent by suc-
cess, boiled over from the parts of Mauritania into
the Thebaid region. Who plundering and burn-
ing all monasteries, and insulting the consecrated
virgins, at last arrived even at the monastery of
Scetis, where they not only, according to their
impious custom, defiled the altar, and carried off the
sacred vessels, but also bore away .that most holy
relic, the chief glory of the Laura, namely, the
bracelet of the holy Amma, impiously pretending
that it had belonged to a warrior of their tribe, and
thus expounded the writing thereon engraven :
" For Amalric Amal's Son Smid Troll's Son Made Me.
Wherein whether they spoke truth or not, yet their
sacrilege did not remain unpunished ; for attempt-
ing to return homeward toward the sea by way of
the Nile, they were set upon while weighed down
with wine and sleep, by the country people, and to
a man miserably destroyed. But the pious folk,
restoring the holy gold to its pristine sanctuary,
were not unrewarded : for since that day it grows
glorious with ever fresh miracles as of blind
restored to sight, paralytics to strength, demoniacs
to sanity to the honor of the orthodox Catholic
Church, and of its ever-blessed saints."
So be it. Pelagia and Philammon, like the rest,
went to their own place ; to the only place where
Every Man to his own Place 305
such in such days could find rest; to the desert
and the hermit's cell, and then forward into that
fairy land of legend and miracle, wherein all saintly
lives were destined to be enveloped for many a
century thenceforth.
And now, readers, farewell. I have shown you
New Foes under an old face your own likenesses
in toga and tunic, instead of coat and bonnet. One
word before we part. The same devil who tempted
these old Egyptians tempts you. The same God
who would have saved these old Egyptians if they
had willed, will save you, if you will. Their sins
are yours, their errors yours, their doom yours,
their deliverance yours. There is nothing new
under the sun. The thing which has been, it is
that which shall be. Let him that is without sin
among you cast the first stone, whether at Hypatia
or Pelagia, Miriam or Raphael, Cyril or Philam-
mon.