CHAPTER IV.
The houses of the embalmers, which earlier in the evening had shonebrightly out of the darkness, now made a less splendid display. The dustkicked up by the crowd dimmed the few lamps and torches which had not bythis time burned out or been extinguished, and an oppressive atmosphereof balsamic resin and spices met the brother and sister on the verythreshold. The vast hall which they now entered was one of a long rowof buildings of unburned bricks; but the Greeks insisted on someornamentation of the simplest structure, if it served a public purpose,and the embalming-houses had a colonnade along their front, and theirwalls were covered with stucco, painted in gaudy colors, here in theEgyptian and there in the Greek taste. There were scenes from theEgyptian realm of the dead, and others from the Hellenic myths; forthe painters had been enjoined to satisfy the requirements and views ofvisitors of every race. The chief attraction, however, this nightwas within; for the men whose duties were exercised on the dead haddisplayed the finest and best of what they had to offer to theircustomers.
The ancient Greek practice of burning the dead had died out under theAntonines. Of old, the objects used to deck the pyre had also beenon show here; now there was nothing to be seen but what related tointerment or entombment.
Side by side with the marble sarcophagus, or those of coarser stone,were wooden coffins and mummy-cases, with a place at the head for theportrait of the deceased. Vases and jars of every kind, amulets ofvarious forms, spices and balsams in vials and boxes, little images inburned clay of the gods and of men, of which none but the Egyptians knewthe allegorical meaning, stood in long rows on low wooden shelves. Onthe higher shelves were mummy bands and shrouds, some coarse, others ofthe very finest texture, wigs for the bald heads of shaven corpses, orwoolen fillets, and simply or elaborately embroidered ribbons for theGreek dead.
Nothing was lacking of the various things in use for decking the corpseof an Alexandrian, whatever his race or faith.
Some mummy-cases, too, were there, ready to be packed off to othertowns. The most costly were covered with fine red linen, wound aboutwith strings of beads and gold ornaments, and with the name of thedead painted on the upper side. In a long, narrow room apart hung theportraits, waiting to be attached to the upper end of the mummy-cases ofthose lately deceased, and still in the hands of embalmers. Here, too,most of the lamps were out, and the upper end of the room was alreadydark. Only in the middle, where the best pictures were on show, thelights had been renewed.
The portraits were painted on thin panels of sycamore or of cypress,and in most of them the execution betrayed that their destiny was to behidden in the gloom of a tomb.
Alexander's portrait of Korinna was in the middle of the gallery, ina good light, and stood out from the paintings on each side of it asa genuine emerald amid green glass. It was constantly surrounded by acrowd of the curious and connoisseurs. They pointed out the beautifulwork to each other; but, though most of them acknowledged the skillof the master who had painted it, many ascribed its superiority tothe magical charm of the model. One could see in those wonderfullyharmonious features that Aristotle was right when he discerned beautyin order and proportion; while another declared that he found therethe evidence of Plato's doctrine of the identity of the good and thebeautiful--for this face was so lovely because it was the mirror of asoul which had been disembodied in the plenitude of maiden purityand virtue, unjarred by any discord; and this gave rise to a vehementdiscussion as to the essential nature of beauty and of virtue.
Others longed to know more about the early-dead original of thisenchanting portrait. Korinna's wealthy father and his brothers wereamong the best-known men of the city. The elder, Timotheus, washigh-priest of the Temple of Serapis; and Zeno, the younger, had setthe whole world talking when he, who in his youth had been notoriouslydissipated, had retired from any concern in the corn-trade carried onby his family, the greatest business of the kind in the world, perhaps,and--for this was an open secret--had been baptized.
The body of the maiden, when embalmed and graced with her portrait, wasto be transported to the family tomb in the district of Arsinoe, wherethey had large possessions, and the gossip of the embalmer was eagerlyswallowed as he expatiated on the splendor with which her liberal fatherproposed to escort her thither.
Alexander and Melissa had entered the portrait-gallery before thebeginning of this narrative, and listened to it, standing behind severalrows of gazers who were between them and the portrait.
As the speaker ceased, the little crowd broke up, and when Melissa couldat last see her brother's work at her ease, she stood speechless forsome time; and then she turned to the artist, and exclaimed, from thedepths of her heart, "Beauty is perhaps the noblest thing in the world!"
"It is," replied Alexander, with perfect assurance. And he, bewitchedonce more by the spell which had held him by Korinna's couch, gazed intothe dark eyes in his own picture, whose living glance his had never met,and which he nevertheless had faithfully reproduced, giving them a lookof the longing of a pure soul for all that is lovely and worthy.
Melissa, an artist's daughter, as she looked at this portrait,understood what it was that had so deeply stirred her brother while hepainted it; but this was not the place to tell him so. She soon toreherself away, to look about for Philip once more and then to be takenhome.
Alexander, too, was seeking Philip; but, sharp as the artist's eyeswere, Melissa's seemed to be keener, for, just as they were giving it upand turning to go, she pointed to a dark corner and said softly, "Therehe is."
And there, in fact, her brother was, sitting with two men, one very talland the other a little man, his brow resting on his hand in the deepshadow of a sarcophagus, between the wall and a mummy-case set on end,which till now had hidden him from Alexander and Melissa.
Who could the man be who had kept the young philosopher, somewhatinaccessible in his pride of learning, so long in talk in that half-darkcorner? He was not one of the learned society at the Museum; Alexanderknew them all. Besides, he was not dressed like them, in the Greekfashion, but in the flowing robe of a Magian. And the stranger was a manof consequence, for he wore his splendid garment with a superior air,and as Alexander approached him he remembered having somewhere seen thistall, bearded figure, with the powerful head garnished with flowing andcarefully oiled black curls. Such handsome and well-chiseled features,such fine eyes, and such a lordly, waving beard were not easilyforgotten; his memory suddenly awoke and threw a light on the man as hesat in the gloom, and on the surroundings in which he had met him forthe first time.
It was at the feast of Dionysus. Among a drunken crowd, which wasrushing wildly along the streets, and which Alexander had joined,himself one of the wildest, this man had marched, sober and dignifiedas he was at this moment, in the same flowing raiment. This had provokedthe feasters, who, being full of wine and of the god, would have nothingthat could remind them of the serious side of life. Such sullen reserveon a day of rejoicing was an insult to the jolly giver of the fruitsof the earth, and to wine itself, the care-killer; and the mad troop ofartists, disguised as Silenus, satyrs, and fauns, had crowded round thestranger to compel him to join their rout and empty the wine-jar which aburly Silenus was carrying before him on his ass.
At first the man had paid no heed to the youths' light mockery; but asthey grew bolder, he suddenly stood still, seized the tall faun, whowas trying to force the wine-jar on him, by both arms, and, holding himfirmly, fixed his grave, dark eyes on those of the youth. Alexander hadnot forgotten the half-comical, half-threatening incident, but what heremembered most clearly was the strange scene that followed: for, afterthe Magian had released his enemy, he bade him take the jar back toSilenus, and proceed on his way, like the ass, on all-fours. And thetall faun, a headstrong, irascible Lesbian, had actually obeyed thestately despot, and crept along on his hands and feet by the side of thedonkey. No threats nor mockery of his companions could persuade him torise. The high spirits of the boisterous crew were quite broken, andbefore they
could turn on the magician he had vanished.
Alexander had afterward learned that he was Serapion, the star-gazer andthaumaturgist, whom all the spirits of heaven and earth obeyed.
When, at the time, the painter had told the story to Philip, thephilosopher had laughed at him, though Alexander had reminded him thatPlato even had spoken of the daimons as being the guardian spirits ofmen; that in Alexandria, great and small alike believed in them as afact to be reckoned with; and that he--Philip himself--had told him thatthey played a prominent part in the newest systems of philosophy.
But to the skeptic nothing was sure: and if he would deny the existenceof the Divinity, he naturally must disbelieve that of any beings in asphere between the supersensual immortals and sentient human creatures.That a man, the weaker nature, could have any power over daimons, who,as having a nearer affinity to the gods, must, if they existed, be thestronger, he could refute with convincing arguments; and when he sawothers nibbling whitethorn-leaves, or daubing their thresholds withpitch to preserve themselves and the house from evil spirits, heshrugged his shoulders contemptuously, though his father often did suchthings.
Here was Philip, deep in conversation with the man he had mocked at,and Alexander was flattered by seeing that wise and famous Serapion,in whose powers he himself believed, was talking almost humbly to hisbrother, as though to a superior. The magician was standing, while thephilosopher, as though it were his right, remained seated.
Of what could they be conversing?
Alexander himself was anxious to be going, and only his desire to hearat any rate a few sentences of the talk of two such men detained himlonger.
As he expected, it bore on Serapion's magical powers; but the beardedman spoke in a very low tone, and if the painter ventured any nearer hewould be seen. He could only catch a few incoherent words, till Philipexclaimed in a louder voice: "All that is well-reasoned. But you will beable to write an enduring inscription on the shifting wave sooner thanyou will shake my conviction that for our spirit, such as Nature hasmade it, there is nothing infallible or certain."
The painter was familiar with this postulate, and was curious to hearthe Magian's reply; but he could not follow his argument till heended by saying, rather more emphatically: "You, even, do not deny thephysical connection of things; but I know the power that causes it. Itis the magical sympathy which displays itself more powerfully in theuniverse, and among human beings, than any other force."
"That is just what remains to be proved," was the reply. But asthe other declared in all confidence, "And I can prove it," and wasproceeding to do so, Serapion's companion, a stunted, sharp-featuredlittle Syrian, caught sight of Alexander. The discourse was interrupted,and Alexander, pointing to Melissa, begged his brother to grant them afew minutes' speech with him. Philip, however, scarcely spared a momentfor greeting his brother and sister; and when, in answer to his requestthat they be brief in what they had to say, they replied that a fewwords would not suffice, Philip was for putting them off till themorrow, as he did not choose to be disturbed just now.
At this Melissa took courage; she turned to Serapion and modestlyaddressed him:
"You, sir, look like a grave, kind man, and seem to have a regard for mybrother. You, then, will help us, no doubt, to cure him of an illusionwhich troubles us. A dead girl, he says, met him, and he touched herhand."
"And do you, sweet child, think that impossible?" the Magian asked withgentle gravity. "Have the thousands who bring not merely fruit and wineand money for their dead, but who even burn a black sheep for them--you,perhaps, have done the same--have they, I ask, done this so long invain? I can not believe it. Nay, I know from the ghosts themselves thatthis gives them pleasure; so they must have the organs of sense."
"That we may rejoice departed souls by food and drink," said Melissa,eagerly, "and that daimons at times mingle with the living, every oneof course, believes; but who ever heard that warm blood stirred in them?And how can it be possible that they should remunerate a service withmoney, which certainly was not coined in their airy realm, but in themint here?"
"Not too fast, fair maid," replied the Magian, raising a warning hand."There is no form which these intermediate beings can not assume. Theyhave the control of all and everything which mortals may use, so thesoul of Korinna revisiting these scenes may quite well have paid theferryman with an obolus."
"Then you know of it?" asked Melissa in surprise; but the Magian brokein, saying:
"Few such things remain hidden from him who knows, not even thesmallest, if he strives after such knowledge."
As he spoke he gave the girl such a look as made her eyelids fall, andhe went on with greater warmth: "There would be fewer tears shed bydeath-beds, my child, if we could but show the world the means by whichthe initiated hold converse with the souls of the dead."
Melissa shook her pretty head sadly, and the Magian kindly stroked herwaving hair; then, looking her straight in the eyes, he said: "The deadlive. What once has been can never cease to be, any more than outof nothing can anything come. It is so simple; and so, too, are theworkings of magic, which amaze you so much. What you call magic, when Ipractice it, Eros, the great god of love, has wrought a thousand timesin your breast. When your heart leaps at your brother's caress, whenthe god's arrow pierces you, and the glance of a lover fills you withgladness, when the sweet harmonies of fine music wrap your soul abovethis earth, or the wail of a child moves you to compassion, you havefelt the magic power stirring in your own soul. You feel it when somemysterious power, without any will of your own, prompts you to some act,be it what it may. And, besides all this, if a leaf flutters off thetable without being touched by any visible hand, you do not doubt thata draught of air, which you can neither hear nor see, has swept throughthe room. If at noon the world is suddenly darkened, you know, withoutlooking up at the sky, that it is overcast by a cloud. In the very sameway you can feel the nearness of a soul that was dear to you withoutbeing able to see it. All that is necessary is to strengthen the facultywhich knows its presence, and give it the proper training, and then youwill see and hear them. The Magians have the key which unlocks the doorof the world of spirits to the human senses. Your noble brother, in whomthe claims of the spirit have long since triumphed over those of sense,has found this key without seeking it, since he has been permitted tosee Korinna's soul. And if he follows a competent guide he will see heragain."
"But why? What good will it do him?" asked Melissa, with a reproachfuland anxious look at the man whose influence, as she divined would bepernicious to her brother, in spite of his knowledge. The Magian gavea compassionate shrug, and in the look he cast at the philosopher, thequestion was legible, "What have such as these to do with the highestthings?"
Philip nodded in impatient assent, and, without paying any further heedto his brother and sister, besought his friend to give him the proofsof the theory that the physical causation of things is weaker than thesympathy which connects them. Melissa knew full well that any attemptnow to separate Philip from Serapion would be futile; however, she wouldnot leave the last chance untried, and asked him gravely whether he hadforgotten his mother's tomb.
He hastily assured her that he fully intended to visit it presently.Fruit and fragrant oil could be had here at any hour of the night.
"And your two wreaths?" she said, in mild reproach, for she had observedthem both below the portrait of Korinna.
"I had another use for them," he said, evasively; and then he added,apologetically: "You have brought flowers enough, I know. If I can findtime, I will go to-morrow to see my father." He nodded to them both,turned to the Magian, and went on eagerly:
"Then that magical sympathy--"
They did not wait to hear the discussion; Alexander signed to his sisterto follow him.
He, too, knew that his brother's ear was deaf now to anything he couldsay. What Serapion had said had riveted even his attention, and thequestion whether it might indeed be vouchsafed to living mortals to seethe souls of the depa
rted, and hear their voices, exercised his mind sogreatly that he could not forbear asking his sister's opinion on suchmatters.
But Melissa's good sense had felt that there was something not quitesound in the Magian's argument--nor did she conceal her conviction thatPhilip, who was always hard to convince, had accepted Serapion's views,not because he yielded to the weight of his reasons, but because he--andAlexander, too, for that matter--hoped by his mediation to see thebeautiful Korinna again.
This the artist admitted; but when he jested of the danger of a jealousquarrel between him and his brother, for the sake of a dead girl, therewas something hard in his tone, and very unlike him, which Melissa didnot like.
They breathed more freely as they got out into the open air, andher efforts to change the subject of their conversation were happilyseconded; for at the door they met the family of their neighbor Skopas,the owner of a stone-quarry, whose grave-plot adjoined theirs, andMelissa was happy again as she heard her brother laughing as gayly asever with Skopas's pretty daughter. The mania had not taken such deephold of the light-hearted young painter as of Philip, the poring andgloomy philosopher; and she was glad as she heard her friend Ino callAlexander a faithless butterfly, while her sister Helena declared thathe was a godless scoffer.