Hypatia or New Foes with an Old Face Part 58

Onward, with chant and dirge, they swept out through the Sun-gate, upon the harbour esplanade, and wheeled to the right along the quay, while the torchlight bathed in a red glare the great front of the Caesareum, and the tall obelisks before it, and the masts of the thousand s.h.i.+ps which lay in the harbour on their left; and last, but not least, before the huge dim ma.s.s of the palace which bounded the esplanade in front, a long line of glittering helmets and cuira.s.ses, behind a barrier of cables which stretched from the sh.o.r.e 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 generals.h.i.+p. Reckless as that night's events proved him to be about arousing the pa.s.sions of his subjects, he was yet far too wary to risk the odium and the danger of a night attack, which, even if successful, 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 collision, 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right he would keep-at least till his express to Byzantium should have returned, and Orestes was either proscribed or superseded.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 Caesareum, 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 pa.s.sed 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 until the sacred ceremony which was about to take place should be completed; and enforced their 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 expressions of admiration, and the tribune of the cohort, who ad no great objection, but also no great wish, fight, paid them a high-flown compliment on their laudable endeavours 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 princ.i.p.alities and powers,'.... an answer which the tribune, being now somewhat sleepy, thought it best to leave unexplained.

In the meanwhile, there had pa.s.sed 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 Alexandria, 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 kings' 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 covenant, and defile their baptismal robes that they may do honour 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 written 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 almsgiving. 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 fort.i.tude, wonderful in his death, most wonderful in the manner of that death. Oh thrice blessed, who has merited the honour of the cross itself! What can follow, but that one so honoured in the flesh should also be honoured 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! Approach, and see the glory of the saints, the glory of the poor. Approach, and learn that that which man despises, G.o.d hath highly esteemed; that that which man rejects, G.o.d accepts; that that which man punishes, G.o.d rewards. Approach, and see how G.o.d 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 G.o.d condescended to endure it! Man tramples on the poor: The Son of G.o.d hath not where to lay His head. Man pa.s.ses by the sick as useless: The Son of G.o.d chooses them to be partakers of His sufferings, that the glory of G.o.d 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 G.o.d calls him from the receipt of custom 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 G.o.d 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 pa.s.sionate 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 gla.s.s, 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 motionless before the feet of the mult.i.tude.

There was a sudden whisper and rustle in the 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 G.o.d 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 written 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, whoso-ever 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 thunder-clap 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 himself slowly and fearfully to his knees, and blus.h.i.+ng 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 a.r.s.enius.

'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 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 pa.s.sed 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-abas.e.m.e.nt.

'And I accord it,' quoth Peter; and returned to the church, looking, and probably feeling, in a far more pleasant mood than usual.

CHAPTER XXVII: 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 favourite maid announced that a messenger from Synesius waited below. A letter from Synesius? A gleam of hope flashed across her mind. From him, surely, might come something 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 yourself. 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 ladys.h.i.+p'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 Philammon 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?

'Tell him to leave the letter, and begone.... My father? What? Who is this? Who 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 unexpected 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 realised.

'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 succour 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 favour 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 power, and will have it, surely, now-using it as n.o.bly as you do.

'As for Nicaeus and Philolaus, two n.o.ble youths, and kinsmen of my own, let it be the business of all who honour you, both private men and magistrates, to see that they return possessors of their just rights.' [Footnote: An authentic letter of Synesius to Hypatia.]

'Of all who honour 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, rus.h.i.+ng 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.... G.o.d knows!'

'Raphael! are you come here to mock me? You know-you cannot have been here an hour 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 meaning 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.'