The town of Alexandria was stirred to its very foundations. From dawn
till night every centre of public traffic and intercourse was the scene
of hostile meetings between Christians and heathen, with frequent frays
and bloodshed, only stopped by the intervention of the soldiery.
Still, as we see that the trivial round of daily tasks is necessarily
fulfilled, even when the hand of Fate lies heaviest on a household,
and that children cannot forego their play even when their father is
stretched on his death-bed, so the minor interests of individual lives
pursued their course, even in the midst of the general agitation and
peril.
The current of trade and of public business was, of course, checked at
many points, but they never came to a stand-still. The physician visited
the sick, the convalescent made his first attempt, leaning on a friendly
arm, to walk from his bedroom to the “viridarium,” and alms were given
and received. Hatred was abroad and rampant, but love held its own,
strengthening old ties and forming new ones. Terror and grief weighed
on thousands of hearts, while some tried to make a profit out of
the prevailing anxiety, and others--many others--went forth, as
light-hearted as ever, in pursuit of pleasure and amusement.
Horses were ridden and driven in the Hippodrome, and feasts were held
in the pleasure-houses of Canopus, with music and noisy mirth; in the
public gardens round the Paneum cock-fighting and quail-fighting were as
popular as ever, and eager was the betting in new gold or humble
copper. Thus may we see a child, safe on the roof of its father’s house,
floating its toy boat on the flood that has drowned them all out; thus
might a boy fly his gaudy kite in the face of a gathering storm; thus
does the miser, on whom death has already laid its bony hand, count his
hoarded coin; thus thoughtless youth dances over the heaving soil at the
very foot of a volcano. What do these care for the common weal? Each
has his separate life and personal interests. What he himself needs or
desires--the greatest or the least--is to him more important and more
absorbing than the requirements of the vast organism in which he is no
more than a drop of blood or the hair of an eyelash.
Olympius was still in concealment in the house of Porphyrius--Olympius,
whose mind and will had formerly had such imperious hold on the fate
of the city, and to whose nod above half of the inhabitants were still
obedient. Porphyrius and his family shared his views and regarded
themselves as his confederates; but, even among them, the minor details
of life claimed their place, and Gorgo, who entered into the struggle
for the triumph of the old gods, gave but a half-hearted attention to
the great cause to which she was enthusiastically devoted, because a
companion of her childhood, to whose attentions she had every claim,
delayed his visit longer than was kind.
She had performed her ‘Isis’ lament the day before with all her heart
and soul, and had urgently claimed Agne’s assistance; but to-day, though
she had been singing again and well, she had stopped to listen whenever
she heard a door open in the adjoining room or voices in the garden,
and had sung altogether with so much less feeling and energy than before
that Karnis longed to reprove her sharply enough. This, however, would
have been too indiscreet, so he could only express his annoyance by
saying to his son, in a loud whisper:
“The most remarkable gifts, you see, and the highest abilities are of no
avail so long as Art and Life are not one and the same--so long as Art
is not the Alpha and Omega of existence, but merely an amusement or a
decoration.”
Agne had been true to herself, and had modestly but steadfastly declared
that she could not possibly enter the temple of Isis, and her refusal
had been accepted quite calmly, and without any argument or controversy.
She had not been able to refuse Gorgo’s request that she would repeat
to-day the rehearsal she had gone through yesterday, since, to all
appearance, her cooperation at the festival had been altogether given
up. How could the girl guess that the venerable philosopher, who had
listened with breathless admiration to their joint performance, had
taken upon himself to dissipate her doubts and persuade her into
compliance?
Olympius laid the greatest stress on Agne’s assistance, for every
one who clung to the worship of the old gods was to assemble in the
sanctuary of Isis; and the more brilliant and splendid the ceremony
could be made the more would that enthusiasm be fired which, only too
soon, would be put to crucial proof. On quitting the temple the crowd of
worshippers, all in holiday garb, were to pass in front of the Prefect’s
residence, and if only they could effect this great march through the
city in the right frame of mind, it might confidently be expected
that every one who was not avowedly Jew or Christian, would join
the procession. It would thus become a demonstration of overwhelming
magnitude and Cynegius, the Emperor’s representative, could not fail to
see what the feeling was of the majority of the towns folk, and what it
was to drive matters to extremes and lay hands on the chief temples of
such a city.
To Olympius the orator, grown grey in the exercise of logic and
eloquence, it seemed but a small matter to confute the foolish doubts
of a wilful girl. He would sweep her arguments to the winds as the
storm drives the clouds before it; and any one who had seen the two
together--the fine old man with the face and front of Zeus, with
his thoughtful brow and broad chest, who could pour forth a flood of
eloquence fascinatingly persuasive or convincingly powerful, and the
modest, timid girl--could not have doubted on which side the victory
must be.
To-day, for the first time, Olympius had found leisure for a prolonged
interview with his old friend Karnis, and while the girls were in
the garden, amusing little Papias by showing him the swans and tame
gazelles, the philosopher had made enquiries as to the Christian girl’s
history and then had heard a full account of the old musician’s past
life. Karnis felt it as a great favor that his old friend, famous now
for his learning--the leader of his fellow-thinkers in the second city
of the world, the high-priest of Serapis, to whose superior intellect
he himself had bowed even in their student days--should remember his
insignificant person and allow him to give him the history of the
vicissitudes which had reduced him--the learned son of a wealthy
house--to the position of a wandering singer.
Olympius had been his friend at the time when Karnis, on leaving
college, instead of devoting himself to business and accounts, as his
father wished, had thrown himself into the study of music, and at once
distinguished himself as a singer, lute-player and leader of heathen
choirs. Karnis was in Alexandria when the news reached him of his
father’s death. Before quitting the city he married Herse, who was
beneath him alike in birth and in fortune, and who accompanied him
on his return to Tauromenium in Sicily, where he found himself the
possessor of an inheritance of which the extent and importance greatly
astonished him.
At Alexandria he had been far better acquainted with the theatre than
with the Museum or the school of the Serapeum; nay, as an amateur, he
had often sung in the chorus there and acted as deputy for the regular
leader. The theatre in his native town of Tauromenium had also been a
famous one of old, but, at the time of his return, it had sunk to a very
low ebb. Most of the inhabitants of the beautiful city nestling at
the foot off Etna, had been converted to Christianity; among them the
wealthy citizens at whose cost the plays had been performed and the
chorus maintained. Small entertainments were still frequently given,
but the singers and actors had fallen off, and in that fine and spacious
theatre nothing was ever done at all worthy of its past glories. This
Karnis deeply regretted, and with his wonted energy and vigor he soon
managed to win the interest of those of his fellow-citizens who remained
faithful to the old gods and had still some feeling for the music and
poetry of the ancient Greeks, in his plans for their revival.
His purpose was to make the theatre the centre of a reaction against the
influence of the Christians, by vieing with the Church in its efforts
to win back the renegade heathen and confirming the faithful in
their adhesion. The Greeks of Tauromenium should be reminded from the
stage-boards of the might of the old gods and the glories of their past.
To this end it was needful to restore the ruined theatre, and Karnis,
after advancing the greater part of the money required, was entrusted
with the management. He devoted himself zealously to the task, and
soon was so successful that the plays at Tauromenium, and the musical
performances in its Odeum, attracted the citizens in crowds, and were
talked of far and wide. Such success was of course only purchased at
a heavy cost, and in spite of Herse’s warnings, Karnis would never
hesitate when the object in view was the preservation or advancement of
his great work.
Thus passed twenty years; then there came a day when his fine fortune
was exhausted, and a time when the Christian congregation strained every
nerve to deal a death-blow to the abomination of desolation in their
midst. Again and again, and with increasing frequency, there were
sanguinary riots between the Christians who forced their way into the
theatre and the heathen audience, till at last a decree of the Emperor
Theodosius prohibited the performance of heathen plays or music.
Now, the theatre at Tauromenium, for which Karnis had either given or
advanced his whole inheritance, had ceased to exist, and the usurers
who, when his own fortune was spent, had lent him moneys on the security
of the theatre itself--while it still flourished--or on his personal
security, seized his house and lands and would have cast him into the
debtor’s prison if he had not escaped that last disgrace by flight. Some
good friends had rescued his family and helped them to follow him, and
when they rejoined him he had begun his wanderings as a singer. Many
a time had life proved miserable enough; still, he had always remained
true to his art and to the gods of Olympus.
Olympius had listened to his narrative with many tokens of sympathy and
agreement, and when Karnis, with tears in his eyes, brought his story
to a close, the philosopher laid his hand on his friend’s shoulder and
drawing him towards him, exclaimed:
“Well done, my brave old comrade! We will both be faithful to the same
good cause! You have made sacrifices for it as I have; and we need not
despair yet. If we triumph here our friends in a thousand towns will
begin to look up. The reading of the stars last night, and the auguries
drawn from this morning’s victims, portend great changes. What is down
to the ground to-day may float high in the air to-morrow. All the signs
indicate: ‘A fall to the Greatest;’ and what can be greater than Rome,
the old tyrant queen of the nations? The immediate future, it is true,
can hardly bring the final crash, but it is fraught with important
consequences to us. I dreamed of the fall of the Caesars, and of a great
Greek Empire risen from the ruins, powerful and brilliant under the
special protection of the gods of Olympus; and each one of us must
labor to bring about the realization of this dream. You have set a noble
example of devotion and self-sacrifice, and I thank you in the name of
all those who feel with us--nay, in the name of the gods themselves whom
I serve! The first thing to be done now is to avert the blow which the
Bishop intends shall strike us by the hand of Cynegius--it has already
fallen on the magnificent sanctuary of the Apamaean Zeus. If the
ambassador retires without having gained his purpose the balance will
be greatly--enormously, in our favor, and it will cease to be a folly to
believe in the success of our cause.”
“Ah! teach us to hope once more,” cried the musician. “That in itself is
half the victory; still, I cannot see how this delay...”
“It would give us time, and that is what we want,” replied Olympius.
“Everything is in preparation, but nothing is ready. Alexandria, Athens,
Antioch, and Neapolis are to be the centres of the outbreak. The great
Libanius is not a man of action, and even he approves of our scheme. No
less a man than Florentin has undertaken to recruit for our cause among
the heathen officers in the army. Messala, and the great Gothic captains
Fraiut and Generid are ready to fight for the old gods. Our army will
not lack leaders...”
“Our army!” exclaimed Karnis in surprise. “Is the matter so far
advanced?”
“I mean the army of the future,” cried Olympius enthusiastically. “It
does not count a man as yet, but is already distributed into several
legions. The vigor of mind and body--our learned youth on one hand and
strong-armed peasantry on the other--form the nucleus of our force.
Maximus could collect, in the utmost haste, the army which deprived
Gratian of his throne and life, and was within a Hair-breadth of
overthrowing Theodosius; and what was he but an ambitious rebel, and
what tempted his followers but their hopes of a share in the booty? But
we--we enlist them in the name of the loftiest ideas and warmest desires
of the human heart, and, as the prize of victory, we show them the
ancient faith with freedom of thought--the ancient loveliness of life.
The beings whom the Christians can win over--a patch-work medley of
loathsome Barbarians--let them wear out their lives as they choose!
We are Greeks--the thinking brain, the subtle and sentient soul of the
world. The polity, the empire, that we shall found on the overthrow
of Theodosius and of Rome shall be Hellenic, purely Hellenic. The old
national spirit, which made the Greeks omnipotent against the millions
of Darius and Xerxes, shall live again, and we will keep the Barbarians
at a distance as a Patrician forbids his inferiors to count themselves
as belonging to his illustrious house. The Greek gods, Greek heroism,
Greek art and Greek learning, under our rule shall rise from the
dust--all the more promptly for the stringent oppression under which
their indomitable spirit has so long languished.”
“You speak to my heart!” cried Karnis. “My old blood flows more swiftly
already, and if I only had a thousand talents left to give...”
“You would stake them on the future Greek Empire,” said Olympius
eagerly. “And we have adherents without number who feel as you do,
my trusty friend. We shall succeed--as the great Julian would have
succeeded but for the assassins who laid him low at so early an age; for
Rome...”
“Rome is still powerful.”
“Rome is a colossus built up of a thousand blocks; but among them a
hundred and more be but loosely in their places, and are ready to drop
away from the body of the foul monster--sooner rather than later. Our
shout alone will shake them down, and they will fall on our side, we may
choose the best for our own use. Ere long--a few months only--the hosts
will gather in the champaign country at the foot of Vesuvius, by land
and by sea; Rome will open its gates wide to us who bring her back her
old gods; the Senate will proclaim the emperor deposed and the Republic
restored. Theodosius will come out against us. But the Idea for which
we go forth to fight will hover before us, will stir the hearts of those
soldiers and officers who would gladly--ah! how gladly-sacrifice to the
Olympian gods and who only kiss the wounds of the crucified Jew under
compulsion. They will desert from the labarum, which Constantine carried
to victory, to our standards; and those standards are all there, ready
for use; they have been made in this city and are lying hidden in the
house of Apollodorus. Heaven-sent daemons showed them in a vision to my
disciple Ammonius, when he was full of the divinity and lost in ecstasy,
and I have had them made from his instructions.”
“And what do they represent?”
“The bust of Serapis with the ‘modius’ on his head. It is framed in a
circle with the signs of the zodiac and the images of the great Olympian
deities. We have given our god the head of Zeus, and the corn-measure
on his head is emblematic of the blessing that the husbandman hopes for.
The zodiac promises us a good star, and the figures representing it
are not the common emblems, but each deeply significant. The Twins,
for instance, are the mariner’s divinities, Castor and Pollux; Hercules
stands by the Lion whom he has subdued; and the Fishes are dolphins,
which love music. In the Scales, one holds the cross high in the air
while the other is weighed down by Apollo’s laurel-wreath and the bolts
of Zeus; in short, our standard displays everything that is most dear
to the soul of a Greek or that fills him with devotion. Above all, Nike
hovers with the crown of victory. If only fitting leaders are to be
found at the centres of the movement, these standards will at once be
sent out, and with them arms for the country-folk. A place of meeting
has already been selected in each province, the pass-word will be given,
and a day fixed for a general rising.”
“And they will flock round you!” interrupted Karnis, “and--I, my son,
will not be absent. Oh glorious, happy, and triumphant day! Gladly will
I die if only I may first live to see the smoking offerings sending up
their fragrance to the gods before the open doors of every temple in
Greece; see the young men and maidens dancing in rapt enthusiasm to the
sound of lutes and pipes, and joining their voices in the chorus! Then
light will shine once more on the world, then life will once more mean
joy, and death a departure from a scene of bliss.”
“Aye, and thus shall it be!” cried Olympius, fired by this eager
exposition of his own excitement, and he wrung the musician’s hand.
“We will restore life to the Greeks and teach them to scorn death as of
yore. Let the Christians, the Barbarians, make life miserable and seek
joy in death, if they list! But the girls have ceased singing. There
is still much to be done to-day, and first of all I must confute the
objections of your recalcitrant pupil.”
“You will not find it an easy task,” said Karnis. “Reason is a feeble
weapon in contending with a woman.”
“Not always,” replied the philosopher. “But you must know how to use it.
Leave me to deal with the child. There are really no singing-women left
here; we have tried three, but they were all vulgar and ill taught. This
girl, when she sings with Gorgo, has a voice that will go to the heart
of the audience. What we want is to fire the crowd with enthusiasm, and
she will help us to do it.”
“Well, well. But you, Olympius, you who are the very soul of the
revulsion we hope for, you must not be present at the festival. Indeed,
sheltered as you are under Porphyrius’ roof, there is a price on your
head, and this house swarms with slaves, who all know you; if one of
them, tempted by filthy lucre...”
“They will not betray me,” smiled the philosopher. “They know that their
aged mistress, Damia, and I myself command the daemons of the upper
and lower spheres, and that at a sign from her or from me they would
instantly perish; and even if there were an Ephialtes among them, a
spring through that loop-hole would save me. Be easy, my friend. Oracles
and stars alike foretell me death from another cause than the treason of
a slave.”