Hypatia — or New Foes with an Old Face

  CHAPTER IV: MIRIAM

  One morning in the same week, Hypatia's favourite maid entered herchamber with a somewhat terrified face.

  'The old Jewess, madam--the hag who has been watching so often latelyunder the wall opposite. She frightened us all out of our senses lastevening by peeping in. We all said she had the evil eye, if any one everhad--'

  '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 mysteriesof the gods, can defy spirits and command them. Do you suppose that thefavourite of Pallas Athene will condescend to charms and magic? Send herup.'

  The girl retreated, with a look half of awe, half of doubt, at the loftypretensions of her mistress, and returned with old Miriam, keeping,however, prudently behind her, in order to test as little as possiblethe power of her own amulet by avoiding the basilisk eye which hadterrified her.

  Miriam came in, and advancing to the proud beauty, who remained seated,made an obeisance down to the very floor, without, however, taking hereyes for an instant off Hypatia's face.

  Her countenance was haggard and bony, with broad sharp-cut lips, stampedwith a strangely mingled expression of strength and sensuality. Put thefeature about her which instantly fixed Hypatia's attention, and fromwhich she could not in spite of herself withdraw it, was the dry,glittering, coal-black eye which glared out from underneath the grayfringe of her swarthy brows, between black locks covered with goldcoins. Hypatia could look at nothing but those eyes; and she reddened,and grew all but unphilosophically angry, as she saw that the old womanintended her to look at them, and feel the strange power which sheevidently wished them to exercise.

  After a moment's silence, Miriam drew a letter from her bosom, and witha second low obeisance presented it.

  'From whom is this?'

  'Perhaps the letter itself will tell the beautiful lady, the fortunatelady, 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. Itwas Orestes'; and so was the handwriting.... Strange that he should havechosen such a messenger! What message could it be which required suchsecrecy?

  She clapped her hands for the maid. 'Let this woman wait in theante-room.' Miriam glided out backwards, bowing as she went. As Hypatialooked up over the letter to see whether she was alone, she caughta last glance of that eye still fixed upon her, and an expression inMiriam's face 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 theletter.'

  '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 favourite hen of Honorius, whichbears the name of the Imperial City, would thrive better under a newfeeder; and the Count of Africa has been despatched by himself and bythe immortal gods to superintend for the present the poultry-yard of theCaesars--at least during the absence of Adolf and Placidia. There arethose also who consider that in his absence the Numidian lion might beprevailed on to become the yoke-fellow of the Egyptian crocodile; anda farm which, ploughed by such a pair, should extend from the uppercataract to the Pillars of Hercules, might have charms even for aphilosopher. But while the ploughman is without a nymph, Arcadiais imperfect. What were Dionusos without his Ariadne, Ares withoutAphrodite, Zeus without Hera? Even Artemis has her Endymion; Athensalone remains unwedded; but only because Hephaestus was too rough awooer. Such is not he who now offers to the representative of Athene theopportunity of sharing that which may be with the help of her wisdom,which without her is impossible. [Greek expression omitted] Shall Eros,invincible for ages, be balked at last of the noblest game against whichhe ever drew his bow?'....

  If Hypatia's colour had faded a moment before under the withering glanceof the old Jewess, it rose again swiftly enough, as she read line afterline of this strange epistle; till at last, crushing it together in herhand, she rose and hurried into the adjoining library, where Theon satover his books.

  'Father, do you know anything of this? Look what Orestes has dared tosend me by the hands of some base Jewish witch!'--And she spread theletter before him, and stood impatient, her whole figure dilated withpride and anger, as the old man read it slowly and carefully, and thenlooked up, apparently not ill pleased with the contents.

  'What, father?' asked she, half reproachfully. 'Do not you, too, feelthe insult which has been put upon your daughter?'

  'My dear child,' with a puzzled look, 'do you not see that he offersyou--'

  'I know what he offers me, father. The Empire of Africa.... I am todescend from the mountain heights of science, from the contemplationof the unchangeable and ineffable glories, into the foul fields andfarmyards of earthly practical life, and become a drudge among politicalchicanery, and the petty ambitions, and sins, and falsehoods ofthe earthly herd.... And the price which he offers me--me, thestainless--me, the virgin--me, the un-tamed,--is-his hand! PallasAthene! 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 justpride? Would it save my cheek from blushes every time I recollected thatI bore the hateful and degrading name of wife?--The property, the puppetof a man--submitting to his pleasure--bearing his children--wearingmyself out with all the nauseous cares of wifehood--no longer able toglory in myself, pure and self-sustained, but forced by day and nightto recollect that my very beauty is no longer the sacrament of Athene'slove for me, but the plaything of a man;--and such a man as that!Luxurious, frivolous, heartless--courting my society, as he has done foryears, only to pick up and turn to his own base earthly uses the scrapswhich fall from the festal table of the gods! I have encouraged him toomuch--vain fool that I have been! No, I wrong myself! It was only--Ithought--I thought that by his being seen at our doors, the cause ofthe immortal gods would gain honour and strength in the eyes of themultitude.... I have tried to feed the altars of heaven with earthlyfuel.... And this is my just reward! I will write to him thismoment,--return by the fitting messenger which he has sent, insult forinsult!'

  'In the name of Heaven, my daughter!--for your father's sake!--for mysake! Hypatia!--my pride, my joy, my only hope!--have pity on my grayhairs!'

  And the poor old man flung himself at her feet, and clasped her kneesimploringly.

  Tenderly she lifted him up, and wound her long arms round him, and laidhis head on her white shoulder, and her tears fell fast upon his grayhair; but her lip was firm and determined.

  'Think of my pride--my glory in your glory; think of me.... Not formyself! You know I never cared for myself!' sobbed out the old man. 'Butto die seeing you empress!'

  'Unless I died first in childbed, father, as many a woman dies whois weak enough to become a slave, and submit to tortures only fit forslaves.'

  'But--but--said the old man, racking his bewildered brains for someargument far enough removed from nature and common sense to have aneffect on the beautiful fanatic--'but the cause of the gods! What youmight do for it!.... Remember Julian!'

  Hypatia's arms dropped suddenly. Yes; it was true! The thought flashedacross her mind with mingled delight and terror.... Visions of herchildhood rose swift and thick--temples--sacrifices--priesthoods--colleges--museums! What might she not do? What might she not makeAfrica? Give her ten years of power, and the hated name of Christianmight be forgotten, and Athene Polias, colossal in ivory and gold,watching in calm triumph over the harbours of a heathen Alexandria....But the price!

  And she hid her face in her hands, and bursting into bitter tears,walked slowly away into her own chamber, her whole body convulsed withthe internal struggle.

  The old man looked aft
er her, anxiously and perplexed, and thenfollowed, hesitating. She was sitting at the table, her face buriedin her hands. He did not dare to disturb her. In addition to all theaffection, the wisdom, the glorious beauty, on which his whole heart fedday by day, he believed her to be the possessor of those supernaturalpowers and favours to which she so boldly laid claim. And he stoodwatching her in the doorway, praying in his heart to all gods anddemons, principalities and powers, from Athene down to his daughter'sguardian spirit, to move a determination which he was too weak togainsay, and yet too rational to approve.

  At last the struggle was over, and she looked up, clear, calm, andglorious again.

  'It shall be. For the sake of the immortal gods--for the sake of art,and science, and learning, and philosophy.... It shall be. If the godsdemand a victim, here am I. If a second time in the history of the agesthe Grecian fleet cannot sail forth, conquering and civilising, withoutthe sacrifice of a virgin, I give my throat to the knife. Father, callme no more Hypatia: call me Iphigenia!'

  'And me Agamemnon?' asked the old man, attempting a faint jest throughhis tears of joy. 'I daresay 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 hehave courage or not to fulfil that condition depends--Do not ask me whatit is. While Cyril is leader of the Christian mob, it may be safer foryou, my father, that you should be able to deny all knowledge of myanswer. Be content. I have said this--that if he will do as I would havehim do, I will do as you would have me do.'

  'Have you not been too rash? Have you not demanded of him somethingwhich, for the sake of public opinion, he dare not grant openly, and yetwhich he may allow you to do for yourself when once--'

  'I have. If I am to be a victim, the sacrificing priest shall at leastbe a man, and not a coward and a time-server. If he believes thisChristian faith, let him defend it against me; for either it or I shallperish. 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 hisheart and reason revolt!'

  And she clapped her hands again for the maid-servant, gave her theletter silently, shut the doors of her chamber, and tried to resume herCommentary on Plotinus. Alas! what were all the wire-drawn dreams ofmetaphysics to her in that real and human struggle of the heart? Whatavailed it to define the process by which individual souls emanatedfrom the universal one, while her own soul had, singly and on its ownresponsibility, to decide so terrible an act of will? or to write finewords with pen and ink about the immutability of the supreme Reason,while her own reason was left there to struggle for its life amid aroaring shoreless waste of doubts and darkness? Oh, how grand,and clear, and logical it had all looked half an hour ago! And howirrefragably she had been deducing from it all, syllogism aftersyllogism, the non-existence of evil!--how it was but a lower form ofgood, one of the countless products of the one great all-pervading mindwhich could not err or change, only so strange and recondite in its formas to excite antipathy in all minds but that of the philosopher, wholearnt to see the stem which connected the apparently bitter fruitwith the perfect root from whence it sprang. Could she see the stemthere?--the connection between the pure and supreme Reason, and thehideous caresses of the debauched and cowardly Orestes? was not thatevil pure, unadulterate with any vein of good, past, present,or future?...

  True;--she might keep her spirit pure amid it all; she might sacrificethe 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 godsrequired it? Were they just, merciful in that? Was it like them, totorture her, their last unshaken votary? Did they require it? Was itnot required of them by some higher power, of whom they were only theemanations, the tools, the puppets?--and required of that higher powerby some still higher one--some nameless, absolute destiny of whichOrestes and she, and all heaven and earth, were but the victims, draggedalong in an inevitable vortex, helpless, hopeless, toward that for whicheach was meant?--And she was meant for this! The thought was unbearable;it turned her giddy. No! she would not! She would rebel! LikePrometheus, she would dare destiny, and brave its worst! And she sprangup to recall the letter.... Miriam was gone; and she threw herself onthe floor, and wept bitterly.

  And her peace of mind would certainly not have been improved, could shehave seen old Miriam hurry home with her letter to a dingy house in theJews' quarter, where it was un-sealed, read, and sealed up again withsuch marvellous skill, that no eye could have detected the change; andfinally, still less would she have been comforted could she have heardthe conversation which was going on in a summer-room of Orestes' palace,between that illustrious statesman and Raphael Aben-Ezra, who were lyingon two divans opposite each other, whiling away, by a throw or two ofdice, the anxious moments which delayed her answer.

  'Trays again! The devil is in you, Raphael!'

  'I always thought he was,' answered Raphael, sweeping up the goldpieces....

  '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 amessage without knowing what it is? Don't be angry; she won't tell.She would give one of those two grave-lights there, which she calls hereyes, to see the thing prosper.'

  'Why?'

  'Your excellency will know when the letter comes. Here she is; I hearsteps in the cloister. Now, one bet before they enter. I give you two toone she asks you to turn pagan.'

  'What in? Negro-boys?'

  'Anything you like.'

  'Taken. Come in, slaves?'

  And Hypocorisma entered, pouting.

  'That Jewish fury is outside with a letter, and has the impudence to sayshe 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 toknow,' grumbled the spoilt youth.

  'Do you want a blue ribbon round those white sides of yours, youmonkey?' answered Orestes. 'Because, if you do, the hippopotamus hidehangs ready outside.'

  'Let us make him kneel down here for a couple of hours, and use him as adice-board,' said Raphael, 'as you used to do to the girls in Armenia.'

  'Ah, you recollect that?--and how the barbarian papas used to grumble,till I had to crucify one or two, eh? That was something like life! Ilove those out-of-the-way stations, where nobody asks questions: buthere one might as well live among the monks in Nitria. Here comesCanidia! 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 commandthe counsels of their prophetess must remember that they will vouchsafeto her no illumination till their lost honours be restored. If he whoaspires to be the lord of Africa dare trample on the hateful cross, andrestore the Caesareum to those for whose worship it was built--if hedare proclaim aloud with his lips, and in his deeds, that contemptfor novel and barbarous superstitions, which his taste and reason havealready taught him, then he would prove himself one with whom it were aglory to labour, 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 ofmy soul?'

  'What will become of it in any case, my most excellent lord?' answeredRaphael blandly.

  'You mean--I know what you cursed Jews think will happen to every onebut yourselves. But what would the world say? I an apostate! And in theface of Cyril and the popula
ce! I daren't, I tell you!'

  'No one asked your excellency to apostatise.'

  'Why, what? What did you say just now?'

  'I asked you to promise. It will not be the first time that promisesbefore marriage have not exactly coincided with performance afterwards.'

  'I daren't--that is, I won't promise. I believe, now, this is some trapof your Jewish intrigue, just to make me commit myself against thoseChristians, whom you hate.'

  'I assure you, I despise all mankind far too profoundly to hate them.How disinterested my advice was when I proposed this match to you, younever will know; indeed, it would be boastful in me to tell you. Butreally you must make a little sacrifice to win this foolish girl. Withall the depth and daring of her intellect to help you, you might be amatch 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 thesweet 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 heryourself. Why don't you marry her? I'll make you my prime minister,and then we shall have the use of her wits without the trouble of herfancies. By the twelve Gods! If you marry her and help me, I'll make youwhat you like!'

  Raphael rose and bowed to the earth.

  'Your serene high-mightiness overwhelms me. But I assure you, that neverhaving as yet cared for any one's interest but my own, I could not beexpected, at my time of life, to devote myself to that of another, eventhough it were to yours.'

  'Candid!'

  'Exactly so; and moreover, whosoever I may marry, will be practically,as well as theoretically, my private and peculiar property.... Youcomprehend.'

  'Candid again.'

  'Exactly so; and waiving the third argument, that she probably might notchoose to marry me, I beg to remark that it would not be proper to allowthe world to say, that I, the subject, had a wiser and fairer wife thanyou, the ruler; especially a wife who bad already refused that ruler'scomplimentary offer.'

  'By Jove! and she has refused me in good earnest! I'll make her repentit! I was a fool to ask her at all! What's the use of having guards, ifone can't compel what one wants? If fair means can't do it, foul shall!I'll send for her this moment!'

  'Most illustrious majesty--it will not succeed. You do not know thatwoman'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 willbe 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 holycatholic and apostolic faith, get miracles worked at her tomb, and pullyour palace about your ears on the strength thereof.'

  'Cyril will hear of it anyhow: that's another dilemma into which youhave brought me, you intriguing rascal! Why, this girl will be boastingall over Alexandria that I have offered her marriage, and that she hasdone herself the honour to refuse me!'

  'She will be much too wise to do anything of the kind; she has senseenough to know that if she did so, you would inform a Christian populacewhat conditions she offered you, and, with all her contempt for theburden of the flesh, she has no mind to be lightened of that pretty loadby being torn in pieces by Christian monks; a very probable ending forher in any case, as she herself, in her melancholy moods, confesses!'

  'What will you have me do then?'

  'Simply nothing. Let the prophetic spirit go out of her, as it will, ina day or two, and then--I know nothing of human nature, if she doesnot bate a little of her own price. Depend on it, for all herineffabilities, and impassibilities, and all the rest of theseventh-heaven moonshine at which we play here in Alexandria, a throneis 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. Sonow another bet before we part, and this time three to one. Do nothingeither way, and she sends to you of her own accord before a month isout. In Caucasian mules? Done? Be it so.'

  'Well, you are the most charming counsellor for a poor perplexed devilof a prefect! If I had but a private fortune like you, I could just takethe money, and let the work do itself.'

  'Which is the true method of successful government. Your slave bids youfarewell. 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 thestreet, evidently watching for him. As soon as she saw him, she held onher 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 withouttaking care to know what is inside them? Will he apostatise? Tell me. Iam secret as the grave!'

  'The fool has found an old worm-eaten rag of conscience somewhere in thecorner of his heart, and dare not.'

  'Curse the coward! And such a plot as I had laid! I would have sweptevery Christian dog out of Africa within the year. What is the manafraid 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 theworld, 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 muchcunning in her whole body as Hypatia has in her little finger, I'd seather and her Goth upon the throne of the Caesars. But--'

  'But she has five senses, and just enough wit to use them, eh?'

  'Don't laugh at her for that, the darling! I do delight in her, afterall. It warms even my old blood to see how thoroughly she knows herbusiness, and how she enjoys it, like a true daughter of Eve.'

  'She has been your most successful pupil, certainly, mother. You maywell be proud of her.'

  The old hag chuckled to herself a while; and then suddenly turning toRaphael--'See here! I have a present for you;' and she pulled out amagnificent ring.

  'Why, mother, you are always giving me presents. It was but a month agoyou sent me this poisoned dagger.'

  'Why not, eh?--why not? Why should not Jew give to Jew? Take the oldwoman's ring!'

  'What a glorious opal!'

  'Ah, that is an opal, indeed! And the unspeakable name upon it; justlike Solomon's own. Take it, I say! Whosoever wears that never need fearfire, steel, poison, or woman's eye.'

  'Your own included, eh?'

  'Take it, I say!'and Miriam caught his hand, and forced the ring on hisfinger. 'There! Now you're safe. And now call me mother again. I likeit. I don't know why, but I like it. And--Raphael Aben-Ezra--don't laughat me, and call me witch and hag, as you often do. I don't care aboutit from any one else; I'm accustomed to it. But when you do it, I alwayslong 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 thoughtcame across me how handsome you'd look, and how quiet, when you weredead, and your soul up there so happy in Abraham's bosom, watching allthe 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 ministersome 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 nocause to laugh. A great danger hangs over you, and a deep temptation.And if you weather this storm, you may be chamberlain, prime minister,emperor, if you will. And you shall be--by the four archangels, youshall!'

  And the old woman vanished down a by-lane, leaving Raphael utterlybewildered.

  'Moses and the prophets! Does the old lady intend to marry me? What canthere be in this very lazy and selfish personage who bears my name, toexcite so romantic an affection? Well, Raphael Aben-Ezra, thou hast onemore friend in the world beside Bran the mastiff; and therefore one moretrouble--seeing that friends always expect a due return of affectionand good offices a
nd what not. I wonder whether the old lady has beengetting into a scrape kidnapping, and wants my patronage to help herout of it.... Three-quarters of a mile of roasting sun between me andhome!.... I must hire a gig, or a litter, or some-thing, off the nextstand .... with a driver who has been eating onions.... and of coursethere is not a stand for the next half-mile. Oh, divine aether! asPrometheus has it, and ye swift-winged breezes (I wish there were anyhere), when will it all be over? Three-and-thirty years have I enduredalready of this Babel of knaves and fools; and with this abominable goodhealth of mine, which won't even help me with gout or indigestion, I amlikely to have three-and-thirty years more of it....I know nothing, andI care for nothing, and I expect nothing; and I actually can't take thetrouble to prick a hole in myself, and let the very small amount ofwits out, to see something really worth seeing, and try its strength atsomething really worth doing--if, after all, the other side the gravedoes not turn out to be just as stupid as this one.... When will it beall over, and I in Abraham's bosom--or any one else's, provided it benot a woman's?'