{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_10095/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_10095","id":"gutenberg_10095","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10095","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Legends -- Fiction","Mythology -- Fiction","Satire","Short stories, English"],"text":"[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWILIGHT\nOF THE GODS:\nAND OTHER TALES\n\nby Richard Garnett\n\nMDCCCCIII\n\n\n\n\nTO\nHORACE HOWARD FURNESS\nAND\nGEORG BRANDES.\nDABO DUOBUS TESTIBUS MEIS\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n The Twilight of the Gods\n The Potion of Lao-Tsze\n Abdallah the Adite\n Ananda the Miracle Worker\n The City of Philosophers\n The Demon Pope\n The Cupbearer\n The Wisdom of the Indians\n The Dumb Oracle\n Duke Virgil\n The Claw\n Alexander the Ratcatcher\n The Rewards of Industry\n Madam Lucifer\n The Talismans\n The Elixir of Life\n The Poet of Panopolis\n The Purple Head\n The Firefly\n Pan\u2019s Wand\n A Page from the Book of Folly\n The Bell of Saint Euschemon\n Bishop Addo and Bishop Gaddo\n The Philosopher and the Butterflies\n Truth and Her Companions\n The Three Palaces\n New Readings in Biography\n The Poison Maid\n NOTES\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS\n\n\nTruth fails not, but her outward forms that bear\nThe longest date do melt like frosty rime.\n\nI\n\nThe fourth Christian century was far past its meridian, when, high\nabove the summit of the supreme peak of Caucasus, a magnificent eagle\ncame sailing on broad fans into the blue, and his shadow skimmed the\nglittering snow as it had done day by day for thousands of years. A\nhuman figure\u2014or it might be superhuman, for his mien seemed more than\nmortal\u2014lifted from the crag, to which he hung suspended by massy gyves\nand rivets, eyes mournful with the presentiment of pain. The eagle\u2019s\nscreech clanged on the wind, as with outstretched neck he stooped\nearthward in ever narrowing circles; his huge quills already creaked in\nhis victim\u2019s ears, whose flesh crept and shrank, and involuntary\nconvulsions agitated his hands and feet. Then happened what all these\nmillenniums had never witnessed. No thunderbolt had blazed forth from\nthat dome of cloudless blue; no marksman had approached the\ninaccessible spot; yet, without vestige of hurt, the eagle dropped\nlifeless, falling sheer down into the unfathomable abyss below. At the\nsame moment the bonds of the captive snapped asunder, and, projected by\nan impetus which kept him clear of the perpendicular precipice, he\nalighted at an infinite depth on a sun-flecked greensward amid young\nash and oak, where he long lay deprived of sense and motion.\n\nThe sun fell, dew gathered on the grass, moonshine glimpsed through the\nleaves, stars peeped timidly at the prostrate figure, which remained\nprostrate and unconscious still. But as sunlight was born anew in the\nEast a thrill passed over the slumberer, and he became conscious, first\nof an indescribably delicious feeling of restful ease, then of a\ngnawing pang, acute as the beak of the eagle for which he at first\nmistook it. But his wrists, though still encumbered with bonds and\ntrailing fetters, were otherwise at liberty, and eagle there was none.\nMarvelling at his inward and invisible foe, he struggled to his feet,\nand found himself contending with a faintness and dizziness heretofore\nutterly unknown to him. He dimly felt himself in the midst of things\ngrown wonderful by estrangement and distance. No grass, no flower, no\nleaf had met his eye for thousands of years, nothing but the\nimpenetrable azure, the transient cloud, sun, moon, and star, the\nlightning flash, the glittering peaks of ice, and the solitary eagle.\nThere seemed more wonder in a blade of grass than in all these things,\nbut all was blotted in a dizzy swoon, and it needed his utmost effort\nto understand that a light sound hard by, rapidly growing more\ndistinct, was indeed a footfall. With a violent effort he steadied\nhimself by grasping a tree, and had hardly accomplished so much when a\ntall dark maiden, straight as an arrow, slim as an antelope, wildly\nbeautiful as a Dryad, but liker a Maenad with her aspect of mingled\ndisdain and dismay, and step hasty as of one pursuing or pursued,\nsuddenly checked her speed on perceiving him.\n\n\u201cWho art thou?\u201d he exclaimed.\n\n\u201cGods! Thou speakest Greek!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat else should I speak?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat else? From whom save thee, since I closed my father\u2019s eyes, have\nI heard the tongue of Homer and Plato?\u201d\n\n\u201cWho is Homer? Who is Plato?\u201d\n\nThe maiden regarded him with a look of the deepest astonishment.\n\n\u201cSurely,\u201d she said, \u201cthy gift has been bestowed upon thee to little\npurpose. Say not, at least, that thou usest the speech of the Gods to\nblaspheme them. Thou art surely yet a votary of Zeus?\u201d\n\n\u201cI a votary of Zeus!\u201d exclaimed the stranger. \u201cBy these fetters, no!\u201d\nAnd, weak as he was, the forest rang with his disdainful laughter.\n\n\u201cFarewell,\u201d said the maiden, as with dilating form and kindling eye she\ngathered up her robes. \u201cI parley with thee no more. Thou art tenfold\nmore detestable than the howling mob down yonder, intent on rapine and\ndestruction. They know no better, and can no other. But thou, apt in\nspeaking the sacred tongue yet brutally ignorant of its treasures,\nknowing the father of the Gods only to revile him! Let me pass.\u201d\n\nThe stranger, if willing to hinder her, seemed little able. His eyes\nclosed, his limbs relaxed, and without a cry he sank senseless on the\nsward.\n\nIn an instant the maiden was kneeling by his side. Hastily undoing a\nbasket she carried on her arm, she drew forth a leather flask, and,\nsupporting the sunken head with one hand, poured a stream of wine\nthrough the lips with the other. As the gurgling purple coursed down\nhis throat the sufferer opened his eyes, and thanked her silently with\na smile of exquisite sweetness. Removing the large leaves which shaded\nthe contents of the basket, she disclosed ripe figs and pomegranates,\nhoneycomb and snow-white curd, lying close to each other in tempting\narray. The stranger took of each alternately, and the basket was\nwell-nigh emptied ere his appetite seemed assuaged.\n\nThe observant maiden, meanwhile, felt her mood strangely altered.\n\n\u201cSo have I imaged Ulysses to myself,\u201d she thought as she gazed on the\nstranger\u2019s goodly form, full of vigour, though not without traces of\nage, the massive brow, the kindly mouth, the expression of far-seeing\nwisdom. \u201cSuch a man ignorant of letters, and a contemner of Zeus!\u201d\n\nThe stranger\u2019s eloquent thanks roused her from a reverie. The Greek\ntongue fell upon her ear like the sweetest music, and she grieved when\nits flow was interrupted by a question addressed directly to herself.\n\n\u201cCan a God feel hunger and thirst?\u201d\n\n\u201cSurely no,\u201d she rejoined.\n\n\u201cI should have said the same yesterday,\u201d returned the stranger.\n\n\u201cWherefore not to-day?\u201d\n\n\u201cDear maiden,\u201d responded he, with winning voice and manner, \u201cwe must\nknow each other better ere my tale can gain credence with thee. Do thou\nrather unfold what thine own speech has left dark to me. Why the\nlanguage of the Gods, as should seem, is here understood by thee and me\nalone; what foes Zeus has here other than myself; what is the profane\ncrowd of which thou didst speak; and why, alone and defenceless, thou\nascendest this mountain. Think of me, if thou wilt, as one fallen from\nthe clouds.\u201d\n\n\u201cStrange man,\u201d returned the maiden, \u201cwho knowest Homer\u2019s speech and not\nHomer\u2019s self, who renouncest Zeus and resemblest him, hear my tale ere\nI require thine. Yesterday I should have called myself the last\npriestess of Apollo in this fallen land, to-day I have neither shrine\nnor altar. Moved by I know not what madness, my countrymen have long\nago forsaken the worship of the Gods. The temples crumbled into ruin,\nprayer was no longer offered or sacrifice made as of old, the priestly\nrevenues were plundered; the sacred vessels carried away; the voice of\noracles became dumb; the divine tongue of Greece was forgotten, its\nscrolls of wisdom mouldered unread, and the deluded people turned to\nhuman mechanics and fishermen. One faithful servant of Apollo remained,\nmy father; but \u2019tis seven days since he closed his eyes for ever. It\nwas time, for yesternoon the heralds proclaimed by order of the King\nthat Zeus and the Olympians should be named no more in Caucasia.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa!\u201d interrupted the stranger, \u201cI see it all. Said I not so?\u201d he\nshouted, gazing into the sky as if his eye could pierce and his voice\nreach beyond the drifting clouds. \u201cBut to thy own tale,\u201d he added,\nturning with a gesture of command to the astonished Elenko.\n\n\u201cIt is soon told,\u201d she said. \u201cI knew that it was death to serve the\nGods any more, yet none the less in my little temple did fire burn upon\nApollo\u2019s altar this morning. Scarcely was it kindled ere I became aware\nof a ruffianly mob thronging to sack and spoil. I was ready for death,\nbut not at their hands. I caught up this basket, and escaped up the\nmountain. On its inaccessible summit, it is reported, hangs Prometheus,\nwhom Zeus (let me bow in awe before his inscrutable counsels) doomed\nfor his benevolence to mankind. To him, as Aeschylus sings, Io of old\nfound her way, and from him received monition and knowledge of what\nshould come to pass. I will try if courage and some favouring God will\nguide me to him; if not, I will die as near Heaven as I may attain.\nTell me on thy part what thou wilt, and let me depart. If thou art\nindeed Zeus\u2019s enemy, thou wilt find enough on thy side down yonder.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have been Zeus\u2019s enemy,\u201d returned the stranger, mildly and gravely,\n\u201cI am so no longer. Immortal hate befits not the mortal I feel myself\nto have become. Nor needest thou ascend the peak further. Maiden, I am\nPrometheus!\u201d\n\nII\n\nIt is a prerogative of the Gods that, when they do speak sooth, mortals\nmust needs believe them. Elenko hence felt no incredulity at the\nrevelation of Prometheus, or sought other confirmation than the bonds\nand broken links of chain at his wrists and ankles.\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d he cried, or rather shouted, \u201cis the prophecy fulfilled with\nwhich of old I admonished the Gods in the halls of Olympus. I told them\nthat Zeus should beget a child mightier than himself, who should send\nhim and them the way he had sent his father. I knew not that this child\nwas already begotten, and that his name was Man. It has taken Man ages\nto assert himself, nor has he yet, as it would seem, done more than\nenthrone a new idol in the place of the old. But for the old, behold\nthe last traces of its authority in these fetters, of which the first\nsmith will rid me. Expect no thunderbolt, dear maiden; none will come:\nnor shall I regain the immortality of which I feel myself bereaved\nsince yesterday.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs this no sorrow to thee?\u201d asked Elenko.\n\n\u201cHas not my immortality been one of pain?\u201d answered Prometheus. \u201cNow I\nfeel no pain, and dread one only.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd that is?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe pain of missing a certain fellow-mortal,\u201d answered Prometheus,\nwith a look so expressive that the hitherto unawed maiden cast her eyes\nto the ground. Hastening away from the conversation to which,\nnevertheless, she inly purposed to return.\n\n\u201cIs Man, then, the maker of Deity?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cCan the source of his being originate in himself?\u201d asked Prometheus.\n\u201cTo assert this were self-contradiction, and pride inflated to madness.\nBut of the more exalted beings who have like him emanated from the\ncommon principle of all existence, Man, since his advent on the earth,\nthough not the creator, is the preserver or the destroyer. He looks up\nto them, and they are; he out-grows them, and they are not. For the\nbarbarian and Triballian gods there is no return; but the Olympians, if\ndead as deities, survive as impersonations of Man\u2019s highest conceptions\nof the beautiful. Languid and spectral indeed must be their existence\nin this barbarian age; but better days are in store for them.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd for thee, Prometheus?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is now no place,\u201d replied he, \u201cfor an impeacher of the Gods. My\ncause is won, my part is played. I am rewarded for my love of man by\nmyself becoming human. When I shall have proved myself also mortal I\nmay haply traverse realms which Zeus never knew, with, I would hope,\nElenko by my side.\u201d\n\nElenko\u2019s countenance expressed her full readiness to accompany\nPrometheus as far beyond the limits of the phenomenal world as he might\nplease to conduct her. A thought soon troubled her delicious reverie,\nand she inquired:\n\n\u201cPeradventure, then, the creed which I have execrated may be truer and\nbetter than that which I have professed?\u201d\n\n\u201cIf born in wiser brains and truer hearts, aye,\u201d answered Prometheus,\n\u201cbut of this I can have no knowledge. It seems from thy tale to have\nbegun but ill. Yet Saturn mutilated his father, and his reign was the\nGolden Age.\u201d\n\nWhile conversing, hand locked in hand, they had been strolling\naimlessly down the mountain. Turning an abrupt bend in the path, they\nsuddenly found themselves in presence of an assembly of early\nChristians.\n\nThese confessors were making the most of Elenko\u2019s dilapidated temple,\nwhose smoking shell threw up a sable column in the background. The\neffigies of Apollo and the Muses had been dragged forth, and were being\ndiligently broken up with mallets and hammers. Others of the\nsacrilegious throng were rending scrolls, or dividing vestments, or\nfiring the grove of laurel that environed the shrine, or pelting the\naffrighted birds as they flew forth. The sacred vessels, however, at\nleast those of gold and silver, appeared safe in the guardianship of an\nepiscopal personage of shrewd and jovial aspect, under whose inspection\nthey were being piled up by a troop of sturdy young ecclesiastics, the\nonly weapon-bearers among the rabble. Elenko stood riveted to the\nground. Prometheus, to her amazement, rushed forward to one of the\ngroups with a loud \u201cBy all the Gods and Goddesses!\u201d Following his\nmovements, she saw that the object of his interest was an enormous dead\neagle carried by one of the mob. The multitude, startled by his cry and\nhis emotion, gazed eagerly at the strangers, and instantly a shout went\nup:\n\n\u201cThe heathen woman!\u201d\n\n\u201cWith a heathen man!\u201d\n\nAnd clubs began to be brandished, and stones to be picked up from the\nground.\n\nPrometheus, to whom the shouts were unintelligible, looked wistfully at\nElenko. As their eyes met, Elenko\u2019s countenance, which had hitherto\nbeen all disdain and defiance, assumed an expression of irresolution. A\nstone struck Prometheus on the temple, drawing blood; a hundred hands\nwent up, each weighted with a missile.\n\n\u201cDo as I,\u201d cried Elenko to him, and crossed herself.\n\nPrometheus imitated her, not unsuccessfully for a novice.\n\nThe uplifted arms were stayed, some even sank down.\n\nBy this time the Bishop had bustled to the front, and addressed a\ntorrent of questions to Prometheus, who merely shook his head, and\nturned to inspect the eagle.\n\n\u201cBrethren,\u201d said the Bishop, \u201cI smell a miracle!\u201d And, turning to\nElenko, he rapidly proceeded to cross-examine her.\n\n\u201cThou wert the priestess of this temple?\u201d\n\n\u201cI was.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou didst leave it this morning a heathen?\u201d\n\n\u201cI did.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou returnest a Christian?\u201d\n\nElenko blushed fire, her throat swelled, her heart beat violently. All\nher soul seemed concentrated in the gaze she fastened on the pale and\nbleeding Prometheus. She remained silent\u2014but she crossed herself.\n\n\u201cWho then has persuaded thee to renounce Apollo?\u201d\n\nElenko pointed to Prometheus.\n\n\u201cAn enemy of Zeus, then?\u201d\n\n\u201cZeus has not such another enemy in the world.\u201d\n\n\u201cI knew it, I was sure of it,\u201d exclaimed the Bishop. \u201cI can always tell\na Christian when I see him. Wherefore speaks he not?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is ancient, for all his vigorous mien. His martyrdom began ere our\npresent speech was, nor could he learn this in his captivity.\u201d\n\n\u201cMartyrdom! Captivity!\u201d exclaimed the prelate gleefully, \u201cI thought we\nwere coming thither. An early martyr, doubtless?\u201d\n\n\u201cA very early martyr.\u201d\n\n\u201cFettered and manacled?\u201d\n\n\u201cBehold his wrists and ankles.\u201d\n\n\u201cTortured, of course?\u201d\n\n\u201cIncredibly.\u201d\n\n\u201cMiraculously kept alive to this day?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn an entirely supernatural manner.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d said the Bishop, \u201cI would wager my mitre and ring that his life\nwas prolonged by the daily ministrations of yonder fowl that he\ncaresses with such singular affection?\u201d\n\n\u201cNever,\u201d replied Elenko, \u201cfor one day did that most punctual bird omit\nto visit him.\u201d\n\n\u201cHurrah!\u201d shouted the Bishop. \u201cAnd now, its mission accomplished, the\nblessed creature, as I am informed, is found dead at the foot of the\nmountain. Saints and angels! this is glorious! On your knees, ye\ninfidels!\u201d\n\nAnd down they all went, the Bishop setting the example. As their heads\nwere bowed to the earth, Elenko made a sign to Prometheus, and when the\nmultitude looked up, it beheld him in the act of imparting the\nepiscopal blessing.\n\n\u201cTell him that we are all his brethren,\u201d said the Bishop, which\nannouncement became in Elenko\u2019s mouth, \u201cDo as I do, and cleave to thy\neagle.\u201d\n\nA procession was formed. The new saint, his convert, and the eagle,\nrode in a car at the head of it. The Bishop, surrounded by his\nbodyguard, followed with the sacred vessels of Apollo, to which he had\nnever ceased to direct a vigilant eye throughout the whole proceedings.\nThe multitude swarmed along singing hymns, or contending for the stray\nfeathers of the eagle. The representatives of seven monasteries put in\ntheir claims for the links of Prometheus\u2019s fetters, but the Bishop\nscouted them all. He found time to whisper to Elenko:\n\n\u201cYou seem a sensible young person. Just hint to our friend that we\ndon\u2019t want to hear anything about his theology, and the less he talks\nabout the primitive Church the better. No doubt he is a most\nintelligent man, but he cannot possibly be up to all the recent\nimprovements.\u201d\n\nElenko promised most fervently that Prometheus\u2019 theological sentiments\nshould remain a mystery to the public. She then began to reflect very\nseriously on the subject of her own morals. \u201cThis day,\u201d she said to\nherself, \u201cI have renounced all the Gods, and told lies enough to last\nme my life, and for no other reason than that I am in love. If this is\na sufficient reason, lovers must have a different code of morality from\nthe rest of the world, and indeed it would appear that they have. Will\nyou die for me? Yes. Admirable. Will you lie for me? No. Then you don\u2019t\nlove me. \u0392\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb \u03b5\u03b9\u03c3 \u03ba\u03bf\u03c1\u03b1\u03ba\u03b1\u03c3 \u03b5\u03b9\u03c3 \u03a4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u03b9\u03c3 \u038c\u03b3\u03b3 \u039a\u03bf\u03b3\u03b3.\u201d\n\nIII\n\nElenko soon found that there was no pausing upon the path to which she\nhad committed herself. As the sole medium of communication between\nPrometheus and the religious public, her time was half spent in\ninstructing Prometheus in the creed in which he was supposed to have\ninstructed her, and half in framing the edifying sentences which passed\nfor the interpretation of discourses for the most part far more\ninteresting to herself than if they had been what they professed to be.\nThe rapt and impassioned attention which she was observed to bestow on\nhis utterances on such occasions all but gained her the reputation of a\nsaint, and was accepted as a sufficient set-off against the unhallowed\naffection which she could not help manifesting for the memory of her\nfather. The judicious reluctance of the Caucasian ecclesiastics to\ninquire over-anxiously into the creeds and customs of the primitive\nChurch was a great help to her; and another difficulty was removed by\nthe Bishop, who, having no idea of encouraging a rival thaumaturgist,\ntook an early opportunity of signifying that it was rather in the line\nof Desmotes (for by this name the new saint passed) to be the subject\nthan the instrument of miracles, and that, at all events, no more were\nto be looked for from him at his time of life. The warmth with which\nElenko espoused this view raised her greatly in his good opinion, and\nhe was always ready to come to her aid when she became entangled in\nchronological or historical difficulties, or seasoned her versions of\nDesmotes\u2019 speeches with reminiscences of Plato or Marcus Aurelius, or\nwhen her invention failed altogether. On such occasions, if objectors\ngrew troublesome, the Bishop would thunder, \u201cBrethren, I smell a\nheresy!\u201d and no more was said. One minor trouble both to Prometheus and\nElenko was the affection they were naturally expected to manifest\ntowards the carcase of the wretched eagle, which many identified with\nthe eagle of the Evangelist John. Prometheus was of a forgiving\ndisposition, but Elenko wished nothing more ardently than that the\nwhole aquiline race might have but one neck, and that she might wring\nit. It somewhat comforted her to observe that the eagle\u2019s plumage was\ngrowing thin, while the eagle\u2019s custodian was growing fat.\n\nBut she had worse troubles to endure than any that eagles could\noccasion. The youth of those who resorted to her and Prometheus\nattracted remark from the graver members of the community. Young ladies\nfound the precepts of the handsome and dignified saint indispensable to\ntheir spiritual health; young men were charmed with their purity as\nthey came filtered through the lips of Elenko. Is man more conceited\nthan woman, or more confiding? Elenko should certainly have been at\nease; no temptress, however enterprising, could well be spreading her\nnets for an Antony three hundred years old. Prometheus, on the\ncontrary, might have found cause for jealousy in many a noble youth\u2019s\nunconcealed admiration of Elenko. Yet he seemed magnificently\nunconscious of any cause for apprehension, while Elenko\u2019s heart swelled\ntill it was like to burst. She had the further satisfaction of knowing\nherself the best hated woman in Caucasia, between the enmity of those\nof whose admirers she had made an involuntary conquest, and of those\nwho found her standing between them and Prometheus. Her monopoly of\nGreek, she felt sure, was her only security. Two constant attendants at\nPrometheus\u2019s receptions particularly alarmed her, the Princess Miriam,\nniece of the Bishop, a handsome widow accustomed to have things as she\nwished them; and a tall veiled woman who seemed unknown to all, but\nwhose unseen eyes, she instinctively knew, were never averted from the\nunconscious Prometheus.\n\nIt was therefore with some trepidation that she received a summons to\nthe private apartment of the Princess Miriam.\n\n\u201cDear friend,\u201d the Princess began, \u201cthou knowest the singular affection\nwhich I have invariably entertained for thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cRight well do I know it,\u201d responded Elenko. (\u201cThe thirty-first lie\nto-day,\u201d she added wearily to herself.)\n\n\u201cIt is this affection, dear friend,\u201d continued the Princess, \u201cwhich\ninduces me on the present occasion to transgress the limits of\nconventional propriety, and make a communication distressing to thee,\nbut infinitely more so to myself.\u201d\n\nElenko implored the Princess to make no such sacrifice in the cause of\nfriendship, but the great lady was resolute.\n\n\u201cPeople say,\u201d she continued\u2014\n\n\u201cWhat say they?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat thy relation to Desmotes is indiscreet. That it is equivocal.\nThat it is offensive. That it is sacrilegious. That, in a word, it is\nimproper.\u201d\n\nElenko defended herself with as much energy as her candour would allow.\n\n\u201cDear friend,\u201d said the Princess, \u201cthou dost not imagine that I have\npart or lot in these odious imputations? Even could I deem them true,\nshould I not think charitably of thee, but yesterday a heathen, and\neducated in impiety by a foul sorcerer? My poor lamb! But tongues must\nbe stopped, and I have now to advise thee how this may be\naccomplished.\u201d\n\n\u201cSay on.\u201d\n\n\u201cPeople will always talk so long as thou art the sole medium of\ncommunication with the holy man. Some deem him less ignorant of our\nspeech than he seems, but concerning this I inquire not: for, in\nsociety, what seems, is. Enough that thy colloquies expose thee to\nscandal. There is but one remedy. Thou must yield thy place to another.\nIt is meet that thou forthwith instruct in that barbarous dialect some\nmatron of unblemished repute and devout aspirations; no mere ignorant\ndevotee, however, but a woman of the world, whose prudence and\nexperience may preserve the holy man from the pitfalls set for him by\nthe unprincipled. Manifestly she must be a married person, else nought\nwere gained, yet must she not be chargeable with forsaking her duties\ntowards her husband and children. It follows that she must be a widow.\nIt were also well that she should be of kin to some influential\npersonage, to whose counsel she might have recourse in times of\ndifficulty, and whose authority might protect her against the\nslanderous and evil disposed. I have not been able to meet any one\nendowed with all these qualifications, excepting myself. I therefore\npropose to thee that thou shouldst instruct me in the speech of\nDesmotes, and when I am qualified to take thy place my uncle shall\nelevate thee to the dignity of Abbess, or bestow thee upon some young\nclergyman of extraordinary desert.\u201d\n\nElenko intimated, perhaps with more warmth than necessary, her aversion\nto both propositions, and the extreme improbability of the Princess\never acquiring any knowledge of Greek by her instrumentality.\n\n\u201cIf this is the case,\u201d said the Princess, with perfect calmness, \u201cI\nmust have recourse to my other method, which is infallible.\u201d\n\nElenko inquired what it might be.\n\n\u201cI shall represent to my uncle, what indeed he very well knows, that a\nsaint is, properly speaking, of no value till he is dead. Not until his\ndecease are his relics available, or pilgrimages to his shrine\nfeasible. It is solely in anticipation of this event that my uncle is\nkeeping Desmotes at all; and the sooner it comes to pass, the sooner\nwill my revered relative come by his own. Only think of the capital\nlocked up in the new church, now so nearly completed, on the spot where\nthey picked up the eagle! How shall it be dedicated to Desmotes in\nDesmotes\u2019 lifetime? Were it not a most blissful and appropriate\ncoincidence if the day of the consecration were that of the saint\u2019s\nmigration to a better world? I shall submit this view of the case to my\nuncle: he is accustomed to hear reason from me, of whom, between\nourselves, he is not a little afraid. Thou mayest rely upon it that\nabout the time of the consecration Desmotes will ascend to heaven;\nwhile thou, it is gravely to be feared, wilt proceed in the opposite\ndirection. Would\u2019st thou avert this unpleasantness, think well of my\nfirst proposal. I give thee credit for loving Desmotes, and suppose,\ntherefore, that thou wilt make some sacrifice for his sake. I am a\nKettle, thou art a Pot. Take heed how thou knockest against me!\u201d\n\nElenko sped back to bear tidings of the threatened collision to\nPrometheus. As she approached his chamber she heard with astonishment\ntwo voices in eager conversation, and discovered with still greater\namazement that their dialogue was carried on in Greek. The second\nspeaker, moreover, was evidently a female. A jealous pang shot through\nElenko\u2019s breast; she looked cautiously in, and discerned the same\nmysterious veiled woman whose demeanour had already been an enigma to\nher. But the veil was thrown back, and the countenance went far to\nallay Elenko\u2019s disquiet. It bore indeed traces of past beauty, but was\naltogether that of one who had known better days; worn and faded, weary\nand repining. Elenko\u2019s jealousy vanished, though her surprise\nredoubled, when she heard Prometheus address the stranger as \u201cSister.\u201d\n\n\u201cA pretty brother I have got,\u201d rejoined the lady, in high sharp tones:\n\u201cto leave me in want! Never once to inquire after me!\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, sister, or sister-in-law,\u201d responded Prometheus, \u201cif it comes to\nthat, where were you while I was on Caucasus? The Oceanides ministered\nto me, Hermes came now and then, even Hercules left a card; but I never\nsaw Pandora.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow could I compromise Epimetheus, Prometheus?\u201d demanded Pandora.\n\u201cBesides, my attendant Hope was always telling me that all would come\nright, without any meddling of mine.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet her tell you so now,\u201d retorted Prometheus.\n\n\u201cTell me now! Do you pretend not to know that the hussey forsook\nOlympus ten years ago, and has turned Christian?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am sure I am very sorry to hear it. Somehow, she never forsook _me_.\nI can\u2019t imagine how you Gods get on without her.\u201d\n\n\u201cGet on! We are getting off. Except Eros and Plutus, who seem as usual,\nand the old Fates, who go on spinning as if nothing had happened, none\nof us expects to last for another ten years. The sacrifices have\ndwindled down to nothing. Zeus has put down his eagle. Hera has eaten\nher peacocks. Apollo\u2019s lyre is never heard\u2014pawned, no doubt. Bacchus\ndrinks water, and Venus\u2014well, you can imagine how she gets on without\nhim and Ceres. And here you are, sleek and comfortable, and never\ntroubling yourself about your family. But you had better, or I swear I\nwill tell Zeus; and we shall see whether these Christians will keep you\nwith your ante-chamber full of starving gods. Take a day to think of\nwhat I have been saying!\u201d\n\nAnd away she flounced, not noticing Elenko. Long and earnestly did the\npair discuss the perils that menaced them, and at the end of their\ndeliberations Elenko sought the Bishop, and briefly imparted the\nPrincess Miriam\u2019s ultimatum.\n\n\u201cIt is painful to a spiritual man,\u201d replied the prelate, \u201cto be\naccessory to a murder. It is also repugnant to his feelings to deny a\nbeloved niece anything on which she has set her heart. To avoid such\ngrievous dilemma, I judge it well that ye both ascend to heaven without\nfurther ceremony.\u201d\n\nThat night the ascent of Prometheus and Elenko was witnessed by divers\ncredible persons. The new church was consecrated shortly afterwards. It\nwas amply stored with relics from the wardrobe of Prometheus and what\nremained of the eagle. The damsels of the capital regained their\nadmirers, and those who had become enamoured of Prometheus mostly\ntransferred their affections to the Bishop. Everybody was satisfied\nexcept the Princess Miriam, who never ceased to deplore her indulgence\nin giving Elenko the chance of first speech with her uncle.\n\n\u201cIf I had been five minutes beforehand with the minx!\u201d she said.\n\nIV\n\nThe heaven to which Prometheus and Elenko had ascended was situated in\na sequestered valley of Laconia. A single winding path led into the\nglen, which was inhabited only by a few hunters and shepherds, who\nstill observed the rites of the ancient faith; and sometimes, deeming\nbut to show kindness to a mortal, refreshed or sheltered a forlorn and\nhungry Deity. Saving at the entrance the vale was walled round by steep\ncliffs, for the most part waving with trees, but here and there\nrevealing the naked crag. It was traversed by a silvery stream, in its\nwindings enclosing Prometheus\u2019s and Elenko\u2019s cottage, almost as in an\nisland. The cot, buried in laurel and myrtle, had a garden where fig\nand mulberry, grape and almond, ripened in their season. A few goats\nbrowsed on the long grass, and yielded their milk to the household.\nBread and wine, and flesh when needed, were easily procured from the\nneighbours. Beyond necessary furniture, the cottage contained little\nbut precious scrolls, obtained by Elenko from Athens and the newly\nfounded city of Constantine. In these, under her guidance, Prometheus\nread of matters that never, while he dwelt on Olympus, entered the\nimagination of any God.\n\nIt is a chief happiness of lovers that each possesses treasures wholly\ntheir own, which they may yet make fully the possession of the other.\nThese treasures are of divers kinds, beauty, affection, memory, hope.\nBut never were such treasures of knowledge shared between lovers as\nbetween Prometheus and Elenko. Each possessed immeasurable stores,\nhitherto inaccessible to the other. How trifling seemed the mythical\nlore which Elenko had gleaned as the minister of Ph\u0153bus to that now\nimparted by Prometheus! The Titan had seen all, and been a part of all\nthat he had seen. He had bowed beneath the sceptre of Uranus, he had\nwitnessed his fall, and marked the ocean crimson with his blood. He\nremembered hoary Saturn a brisk active Deity, pushing his way to the\nthrone of Heaven, and devouring in a trice the stone that now resists\nhis fangs for millenniums. He had heard the shields of the Corybantes\nclash around the infant Zeus; he described to Elenko how one day the\nsea had frothed and boiled, and undraped Aphrodite had ascended from it\nin the presence of the gazing and applauding amphitheatre of\ncloud-cushioned gods. He could depict the personal appearance of\nCybele, and sketch the character of Enceladus. He had instructed Zeus,\nas Chiron had instructed Achilles; he remembered Poseidon afraid of the\nwater, and Pluto of the dark. He called to mind and expounded ancient\noracles heretofore unintelligible: he had himself been told, and had\ndisbelieved, that the happiest day of his own life would be that on\nwhich he should feel himself divested of immortality. Of the younger\ngods and their doings he knew but little; he inquired with interest\nwhether Bacchus had returned in safety from his Indian expedition, and\nwhether Proserpine had a family of divine imps.\n\nMuch more, nevertheless, had Elenko to teach Prometheus than she could\nlearn from him. How trivial seemed the history of the gods to what he\nnow heard of the history of men! Were these indeed the beings he had\nknown \u201clike ants in the sunless recesses of caves, dwelling\ndeep-burrowing in the earth, ignorant of the signs of the seasons,\u201d to\nwhom he had given fire and whom he had taught memory and number, for\nwhom he had \u201cbrought the horse under the chariot, and invented the\nsea-beaten, flaxen-winged chariot of the sailor?\u201d And now, how poorly\nshowed the gods beside this once wretched brood! What Deity could die\nfor Olympus, as Leonidas had for Greece? Which of them could, like\nIphigenia, dwell for years beside the melancholy sea, keeping a true\nheart for an absent brother? Which of them could raise his fellows\nnearer to the source of all Deity, as Socrates and Plato had raised\nmen? Who could portray himself as Phidias had portrayed Athene? Could\nthe Muses speak with their own voices as they had spoken by Sappho\u2019s?\nHe was especially pleased to see his own moral superiority to Zeus so\neloquently enforced by \u00c6schylus, and delighted in criticising the\nsentiments which the other poets had put into the mouths of the gods.\nHomer, he thought, must have been in Olympus often, and Aristophanes\nnot seldom. When he read in the Cyclops of Euripides, \u201cStranger, I\nlaugh to scorn Zeus\u2019s thunderbolts,\u201d he grew for a moment thoughtful.\n\u201cAm I,\u201d he questioned, \u201cending where Polyphemus began?\u201d But when he\nread a little further on:\n\nThe wise man\u2019s only Jupiter is this,\nTo eat and drink during his little day,\nAnd give himself no care\u2014\n\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d he said, \u201cthe Zeus that nailed me to the rock is better than this\nZeus. But well for man to be rid of both, if he does not put another in\ntheir place; or, in dropping his idolatry, has not flung away his\nreligion. Heaven has not departed with Zeus.\u201d And, taking his lyre, he\nsang:\n\nWhat floods of lavish splendour\n    The lofty sun doth pour!\nWhat else can Heaven render?\n    What room hath she for more?\n\nYet shall his course be shortly done,\n    And after his declining\nThe skies that held a single Sun\nWith thousands shall be shining.\n\nV\n\nIt was not long ere the gods began to find their way to Prometheus\u2019s\nearthly paradise, and who came once came again. The first was\nEpimetheus, who had probably suffered least of all from the general\nupset, having in truth little to lose since his ill-starred union with\nPandora. He had indeed reason for thankfulness in his practical divorce\nfrom his spouse, who had settled in Caucasia, and gave Greek lessons to\nthe Princess Miriam. Would Prometheus lend him half a talent? a\nquarter? a tenth? a hundredth? Thanks, thanks. Prometheus might rely\nupon it that his residence should not be divulged on any account.\nNotwithstanding which assurance, the cottage was visited next day by\neleven gods and demigods, mostly Titans. Elenko found it trying, and\nwas really alarmed when by and by the Furies, having made over their\nfunctions to the Devil, strolled up to take the air, and dropped in for\na chat, bringing Cerberus. But they behaved exceedingly well, and took\nback a message from Elenko to Eurydice. Ere long she was on most\nintimate terms with all the dethroned divinities, celestial, infernal,\nand marine.\n\nBeautiful and blessed beyond most things is youthful enthusiasm,\nlooking up to something it feels or deems above itself. Beautiful, too,\nas autumn sunshine is maturity looking down with gentleness on the\nideal it has surpassed, and reverencing it still for old ideas and\nassociations. The thought of beholding a Deity would once have thrilled\nElenko with rapture, if this had not been checked by awe at her own\npresumption. The idea that a Deity, other than some disgraced offender\nlike Prometheus, could be the object of her compassion, would never\nhave entered her mind. And now she pitied the whole Olympian cohort\nmost sincerely, not so much for having fallen as for having deserved to\nfall. She could not conceal from herself how grievously they were one\nand all behind the age. It was impossible to make Zeus comprehend how\nan idea could be a match for a thunderbolt. Apollo spoke handsomely of\nHomer, yet evidently esteemed the Iliad and Odyssey but lightly in\ncomparison with the blind bard\u2019s hymn to himself. Ceres candidly\nadmitted that her mind was a complete blank on the subject of the\nEleusinian mysteries. Aphrodite\u2019s dress was admirable for summer, but\nin winter seemed obstinate conservatism; and why should Pallas make\nherself a fright with her Gorgon helmet, now that it no longer\nfrightened anybody? Where Elenko would fain have adored she found\nherself tolerating, excusing, condescending. How many Elenkos are even\nnow tenderly nursing ancient creeds, whose main virtue is the virtue of\ntheir professors!\n\nOne autumn night all the principal gods were assembled under\nPrometheus\u2019s roof, doing justice to the figs and mulberries, and wine\ncooled with Taygetan snow. The guests were more than usually\ndespondent. Prometheus was moody and abstracted, his breast seemed\nlabouring with thought. \u201cSo looked my Pythoness,\u201d whispered Apollo to\nhis neighbour, \u201cwhen about to deliver an oracle.\u201d\n\nAnd the oracle came\u2014in lyric verse, not to infringe any patent of\nApollo\u2019s\u2014\n\nWhen o\u2019er the towers of Constantine\nAn Orient Moon begins to shine,\nWaning nor waxing aught, and bright\nIn daytide as in deep of night:\nThen, though the fane be brought\n    To wreck, the God shall find,\nEnthroned in human thought,\n    A temple in the mind.\n\n\n\u201cAnd what becomes of us while this prodigious moonshine is concocting?\u201d\ndemanded Zeus, who had become the most sceptical of any of the gods.\n\n\u201cGo to Elysium,\u201d suggested Prometheus.\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s an idea!\u201d cried Zeus and Pallas together.\n\n\u201cTo Elysium! to Elysium!\u201d exclaimed the other gods, and all rose\ntumultuously, saving two.\n\n\u201cI go not,\u201d said Eros, \u201cfor where Love is, there is Elysium. And yonder\nrising moon tells me that my hour is come.\u201d And he flitted forth.\n\n\u201cNeither go I,\u201d said an old blind god, \u201cfor where Plutus is, Elysium is\nnot. Moreover, mankind would follow after me. But I too must away.\nStrange that I should have abode so long under the roof of a pair of\nperfect virtue.\u201d And he tottered out.\n\nBut the other gods swept forth into the moonlight, and were seen no\nmore. And Prometheus picked up the forsaken sandals of Hermes, and\nbound them on his own feet, and grasped Elenko, and they rose up by a\ndizzy flight to empty heaven. All was silent in those immense courts,\nvacant of everything save here and there some rusty thunderbolt or\nmouldering crumb of ambrosia. Above, around, below, beyond sight,\nbeyond thought, stretched the still deeps of \u00e6ther, blazing with\ninnumerable worlds. Eye could rove nowhither without beholding a star,\nnor could star be beheld from which the Gods\u2019 hall, with all its\nvastness, would not have been utterly invisible. Elenko leaned over the\nbattlements, and watched the racing meteors. Prometheus stood by her,\nand pointed out in the immeasurable distance the little speck of\nshining dust from which they had flown.\n\n\u201cThere? or here?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cThere!\u201d said Elenko.\n\n\n\n\nTHE POTION OF LAO-TSZE\n\n\nAnd there the body lay, age after age,\n    Mute, breathing, beating, warm, and undecaying,\nLike one asleep in a green hermitage,\n    With gentle sleep about its eyelids playing,\nAnd living in its dreams beyond the rage\n    Of death or life; while they were still arraying\nIn liveries ever new the rapid, blind,\nAnd fleeting generations of mankind.\n\n\nIn the days of the Tang dynasty China was long happy under the sceptre\nof a good Emperor, named Sin-Woo. He had overcome the enemies of the\nland, confirmed the friendship of its allies, augmented the wealth of\nthe rich, and mitigated the wretchedness of the poor. But most\nespecially was he admired and beloved for his persecution of the\nimpious sect of Lao-tsze, which he had well-nigh exterminated.\n\nIt was but natural that such an Emperor should congratulate himself\nupon his goodness and worth; yet, as no human bliss is perfect, sorrow\ncould not fail to enter his mind.\n\n\u201cIt is grievous to reflect,\u201d said he to his courtiers, \u201cthat if, as ye\nall affirm, there hath not been any Emperor of equal merit with myself\nbefore my time, neither will any such arise after me, my subjects must\ninevitably be sufferers by my death.\u201d\n\nTo which the courtiers unanimously responded, \u201cO Emperor, live for\never!\u201d\n\n\u201cHappy thought!\u201d exclaimed the Emperor; \u201cbut wherewithal shall it be\nexecuted?\u201d\n\nThe Prime Minister looked at the Chancellor, the Chancellor looked at\nthe Treasurer, the Treasurer looked at the Chamberlain, the Chamberlain\nlooked at the Principal Bonze, the Principal Bonze looked at the Second\nBonze, who, to his great surprise, looked at him in return.\n\n\u201cWhen the turn comes to me,\u201d murmured the inferior functionary, \u201cI\nwould say somewhat.\u201d\n\n\u201cSpeak!\u201d commanded the Emperor.\n\n\u201cO Uncle of the stars,\u201d said the Bonze, \u201cthere are those in your\nMajesty\u2019s dominions who possess the power of lengthening life, who\nhave, in fact, discovered the Elixir of Immortality.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet them be immediately brought hither,\u201d commanded the Emperor.\n\n\u201cUnhappily,\u201d returned the Bonze, \u201cthese persons, without exception,\nbelong to the abominable sect of Lao-tsze, whose members your Majesty\nlong ago commanded to cease from existence, with which august order\nthey have for the most part complied. In my own diocese, where for some\nyears after your Majesty\u2019s happy accession we were accustomed to impale\ntwenty thousand annually, it is now difficult to find twenty, with the\nutmost diligence on the part of the executioners.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt has of late sometimes appeared to me,\u201d said the Emperor, \u201cthat\nthere may be more good in that sect than I have been led to believe by\nmy counsellors.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have always thought,\u201d said the Prime Minister, \u201cthat they were\nrather misguided than wilfully wicked.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are a kind of harmless lunatics,\u201d said the Chancellor; \u201cthey\nshould, I think, be made wards in Chancery.\u201d\n\n\u201cTheir money does not appear different from other men\u2019s,\u201d said the\nTreasurer.\n\n\u201cI,\u201d said the Chamberlain, \u201chave known an old woman who had known\nanother old woman who belonged to this sect, and who assured her that\nshe had been very good when she was a little girl.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf,\u201d said the Emperor, \u201cit appears that his Grace the Principal Bonze\nhath in any respect misled us, his property will necessarily be\nconfiscated to the Imperial Treasury, and the Second Bonze will succeed\nto his office. It is needful, however, to ascertain before all things\nwhether this sect does really possess the Elixir of Immortality, for on\nthat the entire question of its deserts obviously depends. Our\nCounsellor the Second Bonze having, next to myself, the greatest\ninterest in the matter, I desire him to make due inquiries and report\nto us at the next council, when I shall be prepared to state what fine\nwill be imposed upon him, should he not have succeeded.\u201d\n\nThat night all the members of the Lao-tsze sect inhabiting prisons\nunder the jurisdiction of the Principal Bonze were decapitated, and the\nP.B. laid his own head upon his pillow with some approach to peace of\nmind, trusting that the knowledge of the Elixir of Immortality had\nperished with them.\n\nThe Second Bonze, having a different object to attain, proceeded in a\ndifferent manner. He sent for his captives, and discoursed to them\ntouching the evil arts of unprincipled courtiers, and the facility with\nwhich they mislead even the best intentioned princes. For years had he,\nthe Second Bonze, pleaded the cause of toleration at court; and had at\nlength succeeded in enlightening his Majesty to such an extent that\nthere was every prospect of an edict of indulgence being shortly\npromulgated, provided always that the Elixir of Life was previously\nforthcoming.\n\nThe unfortunate heretics would have been only too thankful to prolong\nthe Emperor\u2019s life indefinitely in consideration of securing peace for\ntheir own, but they could only inform the Bonze of the general\ntradition of their sect. This was that the knowledge of Lao-tsze\u2019s\nsecret was confined to certain adepts, most of whom were plunged into\nso deep a trance that any communication with them was impossible. For\nthe administration of the miraculous draught, it appeared, was attended\nwith this inconvenience, that it threw the partaker into a deep sleep,\nlasting any time between ten years and eternity, according to the depth\nof his potation. During its continuance the ordinary operations of\nnature were suspended, and the patient awoke with precisely the same\nbodily constitution, old or young, as he had possessed on falling into\nhis lethargy; and though still liable to wounds and accidents, he or\nshe continued to enjoy undiminished health and vigour for a period\nequal to the duration of the trance, after which he sank back into the\nranks of mortality, unless he could repeat the potion. All the adepts\nwho had come to life under his present Majesty\u2019s most clement reign had\nimmediately emigrated: the only persons, therefore, capable of giving\ninformation were now buried in slumber, and of course would only speak\nwhen they should awake. They were mostly concealed in the recesses of\ncaverns, those inhabited by wild beasts being usually preferred for the\nsake of better security, as no tiger or bear would harm a follower of\nLao-tsze. The witnesses, therefore, advised the Bonze to ascertain the\nresidences of the most ferocious tigers in his diocese, and to wait\nupon them personally, in the hope of thus discovering what he sought.\n\nThis suggestion was exceedingly unpalatable to the Bonze, who felt\nalmost equally unwilling to venture himself into a wild beast\u2019s den or\nto give any other person the chance of making the discovery. While he\nhesitated in unspeakable perplexity he was informed that an old man,\nabout to expire at the age of an hundred and twenty years, desired to\nhave speech with him. Thinking so venerable a personage likely to have\nat least a glimmering of the great secret, the Bonze hurried to his\nbedside.\n\n\u201cOur master, Lao-tsze,\u201d began the old man, \u201cforbids us to leave this\nworld with anything undisclosed which may contribute to the advantage\nof our fellow-creatures. Whether he deemed the knowledge of the cup of\nimmortality conducive to this end I cannot say, but the question doth\nnot arise, for I do not possess it. Hear my tale, nevertheless. Ninety\nyears ago, being a hunter, it was my hap to fall into the jaws of an\nenormous tiger, who bore me off to his cavern. I there found myself in\nthe presence of two ladies, one youthful and of surpassing loveliness,\nthe other haggard and wrinkled. The younger lady expostulated with the\ntiger, and he forthwith released me. My gratitude won the women\u2019s\nconfidence, and I learned that they were disciples of Lao-tsze who had\nrepaired to the cavern to partake of the miraculous draught, which they\nwere just about to do. They were, it appeared, mother and daughter, and\nI distinctly remember that the composition of the beverage was known to\nthe daughter only. This impressed me, for I should naturally have\nexpected the contrary. The tiger escorted me home. I forswore hunting,\nand became, and have secretly continued, a disciple of Lao-tsze. I will\nnow indicate the position of the cavern to thee: whether the ladies\nwill still be found in it is beyond my power to say.\u201d\n\nAnd having pointed out the direction of the cavern, he expired.\n\nThe thing had to be done. The Bonze dressed himself up as much like a\nvotary of Lao-tsze as possible, provided himself with a body-guard of\n_bona fide_ disciples, and, accompanied by a small army of huntsmen and\nwarriors as well, marched in quest of the den of the tiger. It was\ndiscovered about nightfall, and having tethered a small boy near the\nentrance, that his screams when being devoured might give notice of the\ntiger\u2019s issue from or return to his habitation, the Bonze and his\nmyrmidons took up a flank position and awaited the dawn. The distant\nhowls of roaming beasts of prey entirely deprived the holy man of his\nrest, but nothing worse befell him, and when in the morning the small\nboy, instead of providing the tiger with a breakfast, was heard crying\nfor his own, the besiegers mustered up courage to enter the cavern. The\nglare of their torches revealed no tiger: but, to the Bonze\u2019s\ninexpressible delight, two females lay on the floor of the cave,\ncorresponding in all respects to the description of the old man. Their\ncostume was that of the preceding century. One was wrinkled and hoary;\nthe inexpressible loveliness of the other, who might have seen\nseventeen or eighteen summers, extorted a universal cry of admiration,\nfollowed by a hush of enraptured silence. Warm, flexible, fresh in\ncolour, breathing naturally as in slumber, the figures lay, the younger\nwoman\u2019s arm underneath the elder woman\u2019s neck, and her chin nestling on\nthe other\u2019s shoulder. The countenance of each seemed to indicate happy\ndreams.\n\n\u201cCan this indeed be but a trance?\u201d simultaneously questioned several of\nthe Bonze\u2019s followers.\n\n\u201c_Fiat experimentum in corpore vili!_\u201d exclaimed the Bonze; and he\nthrust his long hunting spear into the elder woman\u2019s bosom. Blood\npoured forth freely, but there was no change in the expression of the\ncountenance. No struggle announced dissolution; not until the body grew\nchill and the limbs stiff could they be sure the old woman was indeed\ndead.\n\n\u201cCarry the young woman like porcelain,\u201d ordered the priest, and like\nthe most fragile porcelain the exquisite young beauty was borne from\nthe cavern smiling in her trance and utterly unconscious, while the\ncorpse of her aged companion was abandoned to the hy\u00e6nas. So often did\nthe bearers pause to look on her beauty that it was found necessary to\ndrape the countenance entirely, until reaching the closed sedan in\nwhich, vigilantly watched by the Bonze, she was transported to the\nImperial palace.\n\nAnd so she was brought to the Emperor, and he worshipped her. She was\nlaid on a couch of cloth of gold in the Imperial apartments. Wonderful\nwas the contrast between her youthful beauty, so still in its repose,\nand the old haggard Emperor, fevered with the lust of beauty and love\nof life.\n\n\u201cO Majesty,\u201d said his wisest counsellor, \u201cis there any sect in thy\ndominions that possesses the secret of perpetual youth?\u201d\n\nAnd the Emperor made proclamation, but no such sect could be found. And\nhe mourned exceedingly, and caused strong perfumes to be burned around\nthe sleeper, and conches to be blown and gongs beaten in her ears,\nhoping that she would awake ere he was dead or wholly decrepit. But she\nstirred not. And he shut himself up with her and passed his time\npraying to Fo for her awakening.\n\nBut one day the door of the chamber was beaten down, and his old wife\ncame in passionately upbraiding him.\n\n\u201cSin-Woo,\u201d she cried, \u201cthou hast not the heart of a man! Thou wouldest\nbe deathless, leaving me to die! I shall be laid in the grave, and thou\nwilt reign with another! Wherefore have I been true to thee, if not\nthat our ashes might mingle at the last? Thou hoary sensualist!\u201d\n\n\u201cSu-Ti,\u201d said the Emperor, with feeling, \u201cthou dost grievously misjudge\nme. I am no heartless sensualist, no butterfly sipper at the lips of\nbeauty. Is not my soul entirely possessed by this divine creature, whom\nI love with an affection infinitely exceeding that which I have\nentertained for thee at any period? And how knowest thou,\u201d added he,\nstriving to soothe her, \u201cthat I will not give thee to drink of the\nmiraculous potion?\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd keep my grey hairs and wrinkles through all time! Nay, Sin-Woo, I\nam no fool like thee, and were I so, I am not in love with any youth.\nAnd know I not that even if I would accept the boon, thou would\u2019st\nnever give it?\u201d\n\nAnd she rushed away in fury and hanged herself by her Imperial girdle.\nWhereupon all the other wives and concubines of the Emperor did\nlikewise, as custom and reason prescribe. All the palace was filled\nwith lamentation and funerals. But the Emperor lamented not, nor turned\nhis gaze from the sleeper, nor did the sleeper awaken.\n\nAnd his son came to him angry with exceeding wrath.\n\n\u201cThou hast murdered my mother. Thou would\u2019st rob me of the crown that\nis rightfully mine. I, born to be an Emperor, shall die a subject! Nay,\nbut I will save thee from thyself. I will pierce thy leman with the\nsword, or burn her with fire.\u201d\n\nAnd the Emperor, fearing he would do as he threatened, commanded him to\nbe slain, as also his brothers and sisters. And he paid no heed to the\naffairs of State, but gave all into the hand of the Second, now the\nPrincipal Bonze. And the laws ceased to be observed, and rebellions\nbroke out in the provinces, and enemies invaded the country, and there\nwas famine in the land.\n\nAnd now the Emperor was well-nigh ten years nearer to the gates of\ndeath than when the Sleeping Beauty had been brought to his court. The\nlove of beauty was nearly quenched in him, but the longing for life\ngrew more intense. He became angry with the sleeper, that she awakened\nnot, and with his little remaining strength smote her fiercely on the\ncheeks, but she gave no sign of reviving. Remembering that if he gained\nthe potion of immortality he would himself be plunged into a trance, he\nmade all preparations for the interregnum. He decreed that he was to be\nseated erect on his throne, with all his imperial insignia, and it was\nto be death to any one who should presume to remove any of them. His\nslumbering figure was to preside at all councils, and to be consulted\nin every act of state, and all ministers and officers were to do homage\ndaily. The revived Sleeping Beauty was to partake of the draught anew,\nat the same time and in the same manner as himself, that she might\nawake with him, and that he might find her charms unimpaired. All the\nministers swore solemnly to observe these regulations; firmly purposing\nto burn the sleeper, if sleep he ever did, at the very first\nopportunity, and scatter his ashes to the winds. Then they would fight\nfor the Empire among themselves; each, meanwhile, was mainly occupied\nin striving to gain the rebels over to his interest, insomuch that the\npeople grew more miserable day by day.\n\nAnd as the aged Emperor waxed more and more feeble, he began to see\nvisions. Legions of little black imps surrounded him crying, \u201cWe are\nthy sins, and would be punished\u2014would\u2019st thou by living for ever\ndeprive us of our due?\u201d And fair female forms came veiled with drooping\nheads, and murmured, \u201cWe are thy virtues, and would be\nrewarded\u2014would\u2019st thou cheat us?\u201d And other figures came, dark but\nlovely, and whispered, \u201cWe are thy dead friends who have long waited\nfor thee\u2014would\u2019st thou take to thyself new friends, and forget us?\u201d And\nothers said, \u201cWe are thy memories\u2014wilt thou live on till we are all\nwithered in thy heart?\u201d And others said, \u201cWe are thy strength and thy\nbeauty, thy memory and thy wit\u2014canst thou live, knowing thou wilt never\nsee us more?\u201d And at last came two warders, officers of the King of\nDeath, and one of them was laughing. And the other asked why he\nlaughed, and he replied:\n\n\u201cI laugh at the Emperor, who thinks to escape our master, not knowing\nthat the moment of his decease was engraved with a pen of iron upon a\nrock of adamant a million million years or ever this world was.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd when comes it?\u201d asked the other.\n\n\u201cIn ten minutes,\u201d said the first.\n\nWhen the Emperor heard this he was wild with terror, and tottered to\nthe couch on which the Sleeping Beauty lay. \u201cOh, awake!\u201d he cried,\n\u201cawake and save me ere it is too late!\u201d And, oh wonder! the sleeper\nstirred, and opened her eyes.\n\nIf she had been so beautiful while sleeping, what was she when awake!\nBut the love of life had overcome the love of beauty in the Emperor\u2019s\nbosom, and he saw not the eyes like stars, and the bloom as of peaches\nand lilies, or the aspect grand and smiling as daybreak. He could only\ncry, \u201cGive me the potion, lest I die, give me the potion!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat cannot I,\u201d she said. \u201cThe secret was known only to my daughter.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho is thy daughter?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe hoary woman, she who slept with me in the cavern.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat aged crone thy daughter, daughter to thee so youthful and so\nfresh?\n\n\u201cEven so,\u201d she said, \u201cI bore her at sixteen, and slumbered for seventy\nyears. When I awoke she was withered and decrepit: I youthful as when I\nclosed my eyes. But she had learned the secret, which I never knew.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Bonze shall be crucified!\u201d yelled the Emperor.\n\n\u201cIt is too late,\u201d said she; \u201che is torn in pieces already.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy whom?\u201d\n\n\u201cBy the multitude that are now coming to do the like unto thee.\u201d\n\nAnd as she spoke the doors were burst open, and in rushed the people,\nheaded by the most pious Bonze in the Empire (after the late Principal\nBonze), who plunged a sword into the Emperor\u2019s breast, exclaiming:\n\n\u201cHe who despises this life in comparison with another deserves to lose\nthe life which he has.\u201d Words, saith the historian Li, which have been\nthought worthy to be inscribed in letters of gold in the Hall of\nConfucius.\n\nAnd the people were crying, \u201cKill the sorceress!\u201d But she looked upon\nthem, and they cried, \u201cBe our Empress!\u201d\n\n\u201cRemember,\u201d said she, \u201cthat ye will have to bear with me for a hundred\nyears!\u201d\n\n\u201cWould,\u201d said they, \u201cthat it might be a hundred thousand!\u201d\n\nSo she took the sceptre, and reigned gloriously. Among her good acts is\nenumerated her toleration of the followers of Lao-tsze. Since, however,\nthey have ceased to be persecuted by man, it is observed that wild\nbeasts have lost their ancient respect for them, and devour them with\nno less appetite than the members of other sects and denominations.\n\n\n\n\nABDALLAH THE ADITE\n\n\nAn aged hermit named Sergius dwelt in the wilds of Arabia, addicting\nhimself to the pursuit of religion and alchemy. Of his creed it could\nonly be said that it was so much better than that of his neighbours as\nto cause him to be commonly esteemed a Yezidi, or devil worshipper. But\nthe better informed deemed him a Nestorian monk, who had retired into\nthe wilderness on account of differences with his brethren, who sought\nto poison him.\n\nThe imputation of Yezidism against Sergius was the cause that a certain\ninquisitive young man resorted to him, trusting to obtain light\nconcerning the nature of demons. But he found that Sergius could give\nhim no information on that subject, but, on the contrary, discoursed so\nwisely and beautifully on holy things, that his pupil\u2019s intellect was\nenlightened, and his enthusiasm was inflamed, and he longed to go forth\nand instruct the ignorant people around him; the Saracens, and the\nSabaeans, and the Zoroastrians, and the Carmathians, and the\nBaphometites, and the Paulicians, who are a remnant of the ancient\nManichees.\n\n\u201cNay, good youth,\u201d said Sergius, \u201cI have renounced the sending forth of\nmissionaries, having made ample trial with my spiritual son, the\nProphet Abdallah.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d exclaimed the youth, \u201cwas Abdallah the Adite thy disciple?\u201d\n\n\u201cEven so,\u201d said Sergius. \u201cHearken to his history.\n\n\u201cNever have I instructed so promising a pupil as Abdallah, nor when he\nwas first my disciple do I deem that he was other than the most\nsimple-minded and well-intentioned of youths. I always called him son,\na title I have never bestowed on another. Like thee, he had compassion\non the darkness around him, and craved my leave to go forth and dispel\nit.\n\n\u201c\u2018My son,\u2019 said I, \u2018I will not restrain thee: thou art no longer a\nchild. Thou hast heard me discourse on the subject of persecution, and\nknowest that poison was administered to me personally on account of my\ninability to perceive the supernatural light emanating from the navel\nof Brother Gregory. Thou art aware that thou wilt be beaten with rods\nand pricked with goads, chained and starved in a dungeon, very probably\nblinded, very possibly burned with fire?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018All these things I am prepared to undergo,\u2019 said Abdallah; and he\nembraced me and bid me farewell.\n\n\u201cAfter certain moons he returned covered with weals and scars, and his\nbones protruded through his skin.\n\n\u201c\u2018Whence are these weals and scars?\u2019 asked I, \u2018and what signifies this\nprotrusion of thy bones?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018The weals and the scars,\u2019 answered he, \u2018proceed from the floggings\ninflicted upon me by command of the Caliph; and my bones protrude by\nreason of the omission of his officers to furnish me with either food\nor drink in the dungeon wherein I was imprisoned by his orders.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018O my son,\u2019 exclaimed I, \u2018in the eyes of faith and right reason these\nscars are lovelier than the moles of beauty, and the sight of thy bones\nis like the beholding of hidden treasure!\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd Abdallah strove to look as though he believed me; nor did he\nentirely fail therein. And I took him, and fed him, and healed him, and\nsent him forth a second time into the world.\n\n\u201cAnd after a space he returned, covered as before with wounds and\nbruises, but comely and somewhat fat.\n\n\u201c\u2018Whence this sleekness of body, my son?\u2019 I asked.\n\n\u201c\u2018Through the charity of the Caliph\u2019s wives,\u2019 he answered, \u2018who have\nfed me secretly, I having assured them that in remembrance of this good\nwork each of them in the world to come would have seven husbands.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018How knewest thou this, my son?\u2019 I inquired.\n\n\u201c\u2018In truth, father,\u2019 he said, \u2018I did not know it; but I thought it\nprobable.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018O my son! my son!\u2019 exclaimed I, \u2018thou art on a dangerous road. To win\nover weak ignorant people by promises of what they shall receive in a\nfuture life, whereof thou knowest no more than they do! Knowest thou\nnot that the inestimable blessings of religion are of an inward and\nspiritual nature? Did I ever promise any disciple any recompense for\nhis enlightenment and good deeds, save flogging, starvation, and\nburning?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Never, father,\u201d said he, \u2018and therefore thou hast had no follower of\nthy law save one, and he hath broken it.\u2019\n\n\u201cHe left me after a shorter stay than before, and again went forth to\npreach. After a long time he returned in good condition of body, yet\nmanifestly having something upon his mind.\n\n\u201c\u2018Father,\u2019 he said, \u2018thy son hath preached with faithfulness and\nacceptance, and turned thousands unto righteousness. But a sorcerer\nhath arisen, saying, \u201cWhy follow ye Abdallah, seeing that he breathes\nnot fire out of his mouth and nostrils?\u201d And the people give ear unto\nthe words that come from this man\u2019s lips, when they behold the flame\nthat cometh from his nose. And unless thou teachest me to do as he doth\nI shall assuredly perish.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd I told Abdallah that it was better to perish for the truth\u2019s sake\nthan to prolong life by lies and deceit. But he wept and lamented\nexceeding sore, and in the end he prevailed with me; and I taught him\nto breathe flame and smoke out of a hollow nut filled with combustible\npowder. And I took a certain substance called soap, but little known in\nthis country, and anointed his feet therewith. And when he and the\nsorcerer met, both breathing flame, the people knew not which to\nfollow; but when Abdallah walked over nine hot ploughshares, and the\nsorcerer could not touch one of them, they beat his brains out, and\nbecame Abdallah\u2019s disciples.\n\n\u201cA long time afterward Abdallah came to me again, this time with a\njoyful, and yet with somewhat of a troubled look, carrying a camel-hair\nblanket, which he undid, and lo! it was full of bones.\n\n\u201c\u2018O father,\u2019 he said, \u2018I bring thee happy tidings. We have found the\nbones of the camel of the prophet Ad, upon which his revelation was\nengraved by him.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018If this be so,\u2019 said I, \u2018thou art acquainted with the precepts of the\nprophet, and hast no need of mine.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Nay, but father,\u2019 said he, \u2018although the revelation was without\nquestion originally engraved by the prophet on these very bones, it\nhath come to pass by the injury of time that not one letter of his\nwriting can be distinguished. I have therefore come to ask thee to\nwrite it over again.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018What!\u2019 I exclaimed, \u2018I forge a revelation in the name of the prophet\nAd! Get thee behind me!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Thou knowest, father,\u2019 he rejoined, \u2018that if we had the original\nwords of the prophet Ad here they would profit us nought, as by reason\nof their antiquity none would understand them. Seeing therefore that I\nmyself cannot write, it is meet that thou shouldst set down in his name\nthose things which he would have desired to deliver had he been now\namong us; but if thou wilt not, I shall ask Brother Gregory.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd when I heard him speak of having recourse to that cheat and\nimpostor my spirit was grieved within me, and I wrote the Book of Ad\nmyself. And I was heedful to put in none but wholesome and profitable\nprecepts, and more especially did I forbid polygamy, having perceived a\ncertain inclination thereunto in my disciple.\n\n\u201cAfter many days he came again, and this time he was in violent terror\nand agitation, and hair was wanting to the lower part of his\ncountenance.\n\n\u201c\u2018O Abdallah,\u2019 I inquired, \u2018where is thy beard?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018In the hands of my ninth wife,\u2019 said he.\n\n\u201c\u2018Apostate!\u2019 I exclaimed, \u2018hast thou dared to espouse more wives than\none? Rememberest thou not what is written in the Book of the prophet\nAd?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018O father,\u2019 he said, \u2018the revelation of Ad being, as thou knowest, so\nexceedingly ancient, doth of necessity require a commentary. This hath\nbeen supplied by one of my disciples, a young Syrian and natural son of\nGregory, as I opine. This young man can not only write, but write to my\ndictation, an accomplishment in which thou hast been found lacking, O\nSergius. In this gloss it is set forth how, since woman hath the ninth\npart of the soul of man, the prophet, in enjoining us Adites (as we now\ncall ourselves) to take but one wife, doth instruct us to take nine; to\nespouse a tenth would, I grant, be damnable. It ensues, therefore, that\nhaving become enamoured of a most charming young virgin, I am\nconstrained to repudiate one of the wives whom I have taken already. To\nthis, each thinking that it may be her turn speedily, if not now, they\nwill in no wise consent, and have maltreated me as thou seest, and the\ndens of wild beasts are at this moment abodes of peace, compared to my\nseraglio. What is even worse, they threaten to disclose to the people\nthe fact, of which they have unhappily become aware, that the\nrevelation of the blessed Ad is not written upon the bones of a camel\nat all, but of a cow, and will therefore be accounted spurious,\ninasmuch as the prophet is not recorded to have ridden upon this\nquadruped. And seeing that thou didst inscribe the characters, O\nfather, I cannot but fear that the fury of the people will extend unto\nthee, and that thou wilt be even in danger of thy life from them.\u2019\n\n\u201cThis argument of Abdallah\u2019s had much weight with me, and I the more\nreadily consented to his request as he did not on this occasion require\nany imposture at my hands, but merely the restitution of his domestic\npeace. And I went with him to his wives, and discoursed with them, and\nthey agreed to abide by my sentence. And, willing to please him, I\ndirected that he should marry the beautiful virgin, and put away one of\nhis wives who was old and ugly, and endowed with the dispositions of\nSheitan.\n\n\u201c\u2018O father,\u2019 said Abdallah, \u2018thou hast brought me from death unto life!\nAnd thou, Zarah,\u2019 he continued, \u2018wilt lose nought, but gain\nexceedingly, in becoming the spouse of the wise and virtuous Sergius.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I marry Zarah!\u2019 I exclaimed, \u2018I! a monk!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Surely,\u2019 said he, \u2018thou would\u2019st not take away her husband without\ngiving her another in his stead?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018If he does I will throttle him,\u2019 cried Zarah.\n\n\u201cAnd I wept sore, and made great intercession. And it was agreed that\nthere should be a delay of forty days, in which space if any one else\nwould marry Zarah, I should be free of her. And I promised all my\nsubstance to any one who would do this, and no one was found. And she\nwas offered to thirteen criminals doomed to suffer death, and they all\nchose death. And at the last I was constrained to marry her. And truly\nI have now the comfort of thinking that if I have offended by\nencouraging Abdallah\u2019s deceits, or otherwise, the debt is paid, and\nEternal Justice hath now nothing against me; for verily I was an inmate\nof Gehenna until it came to pass that she was herself translated\nthither. And respecting the manner of her translation, inquire not thou\ntoo curiously. It was doubtless a token of the displeasure of Heaven at\nher enormities that the water of the well of Kefayat, which had been\nknown as the Diamond of the Desert, became about this time undrinkable,\nand pernicious to man and beast.\n\n\u201cAs I sat in my dwelling administering to the estate of my deceased\nwife, which consisted principally of wines and strong liquors, Abdallah\nagain appeared before me.\n\n\u201c\u2018Hast thou come,\u2019 said I, \u2018to solicit me to abet thee in any new\nimposture? Know, once for all, that I will not.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018On the contrary,\u2019 said he, \u2018I am come to set thee at ease by proving\nto thee that I shall not again require thy assistance. Follow me.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd I followed him to a great plain, where was a host of armed\nhorsemen and footmen, more than I could number. And they bore banners\non which the name of Abdallah was embroidered in letters of gold. And\nin the midst was an ark of gold, with the bones of Ad\u2019s camel, or cow.\nAnd by this was a great pile of the heads of men, and warriors were\ncontinually casting more and more upon the heap.\n\n\u201c\u2018How many?\u2019 asked Abdallah.\n\n\u201c\u2018Twelve thousand, O Apostle of God,\u2019 answered they, \u2018but there are\nmore to come.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Thou monster!\u2019 said I to Abdallah.\n\n\u201c\u2018Nay, father,\u2019 said he, \u2018there will not be more than sixteen thousand\nin all, and these men were unbelievers. Moreover we have spared such of\ntheir women as were young and handsome, and have taken them for our\nconcubines, as is ordained in the eleventh supplement to the Book of\nAd, just promulgated by my authority. But come, I have other things to\nmanifest unto thee.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd he led me where a stake was driven into the earth, and a man was\nchained unto it, and fuel was heaped all around him, and many stood by\nwith lighted torches in their hands.\n\n\u201c\u2018O Abdallah,\u2019 I exclaimed, \u2018wherefore this atrocity?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018This man,\u2019 he replied, \u2018is a blasphemer, who hath said that the Book\nof Ad is written on the bones of a cow.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018But it is written on the bones of a cow! \u2018I cried.\n\n\u201c\u2018Even so,\u2019 said he, \u2018and therefore is his heresy the more damnable,\nand his punishment the more exemplary. Had it been indeed written on\nthe bones of a camel, he might have affirmed what pleased him.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd I shook off the dust from my feet, and hastened to my dwelling.\nThe rest of Abdallah\u2019s acts thou knowest, and how he fell warring with\nthe Carmathians. And now I ask thee, art thou yet minded to go forth as\na missionary of the truth?\u201d\n\n\u201cO Sergius,\u201d said the young man, \u201cI perceive that the temptations are\ngreater, and the difficulties far surpassing what I had thought. Yet\nwill I go, and I trust by Heaven\u2019s grace not to fail utterly.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen go,\u201d said Sergius, \u201cand Heaven\u2019s blessing go with thee! Come back\nin ten years, should I be living, and if thou canst declare that thou\nhast forged no scriptures, and worked no miracles, and persecuted no\nunbelievers, and flattered no potentate, and bribed no one with the\npromise of aught in heaven or earth, I will give thee the philosopher\u2019s\nstone.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nANANDA THE MIRACLE WORKER\n\n\nThe holy Buddha, Sakhya Muni, on dispatching his apostles to proclaim\nhis religion throughout the peninsula of India, failed not to provide\nthem with salutary precepts for their guidance. He exhorted them to\nmeekness, to compassion, to abstemiousness, to zeal in the promulgation\nof his doctrine, and added an injunction never before or since\nprescribed by the founder of any religion\u2014namely, on no account to\nperform any miracle.\n\nIt is further related, that whereas the apostles experienced\nconsiderable difficulty in complying with the other instructions of\ntheir master, and sometimes actually failed therein, the prohibition to\nwork miracles was never once transgressed by any of them, save only the\npious Ananda, the history of whose first year\u2019s apostolate is recorded\nas follows.\n\nAnanda repaired to the kingdom of Magadha, and instructed the\ninhabitants diligently in the law of Buddha. His doctrine being\nacceptable, and his speech persuasive, the people hearkened to him\nwillingly, and began to forsake the Brahmins whom they had previously\nrevered as spiritual guides. Perceiving this, Ananda became elated in\nspirit, and one day he exclaimed:\n\n\u201cHow blessed is the apostle who propagates truth by the efficacy of\nreason and virtuous example, combined with eloquence, rather than error\nby imposture and devil-mongering, like those miserable Brahmins!\u201d\n\nAs he uttered this vainglorious speech, the mountain of his merits was\ndiminished by sixteen yojanas, and virtue and efficacy departed from\nhim, insomuch that when he next addressed the multitude they first\nmocked, then hooted, and finally pelted him.\n\nWhen matters had reached this pass, Ananda lifted his eyes and\ndiscerned a number of Brahmins of the lower sort, busy about a boy who\nlay in a fit upon the ground. They had long been applying exorcisms and\nother approved methods with scant success, when the most sagacious\namong them suggested:\n\n\u201cLet us render the body of this patient an uncomfortable residence for\nthe demon; peradventure he will then cease to abide therein.\u201d\n\nThey were accordingly engaged in branding the sufferer with hot irons,\nfilling his nostrils with smoke, and otherwise to the best of their\nability disquieting the intrusive devil. Ananda\u2019s first thought was,\n\u201cThe lad is in a fit;\u201d the second, \u201cIt were a pious deed to deliver him\nfrom his tormentors;\u201d the third, \u201cBy good management this may extricate\nme from my present uncomfortable predicament, and redound to the glory\nof the most holy Buddha.\u201d\n\nYielding to this temptation, he strode forward, chased away the\nBrahmins with an air of authority, and, uplifting his countenance to\nheaven, recited the appellations of seven devils. No effect ensuing, he\nrepeated seven more, and so continued until, the fit having passed off\nin the course of nature, the patient\u2019s paroxysms ceased, he opened his\neyes, and Ananda restored him to his relatives. But the people cried\nloudly, \u201cA miracle! a miracle!\u201d and when Ananda resumed his\ninstructions, they gave heed to him, and numbers embraced the religion\nof Buddha. Whereupon Ananda exulted, and applauded himself for his\ndexterity and presence of mind, and said to himself:\n\n\u201cSurely the end sanctifies the means,\u201d\n\nAs he propounded this heresy, the eminence of his merits was reduced to\nthe dimensions of a mole-hill, and he ceased to be of account in the\neyes of any of the saints, save only of Buddha, whose compassion is\ninexhaustible.\n\nThe fame of his achievement, nevertheless, was bruited about the whole\ncountry, and soon reached the ears of the king, who sent for him, and\ninquired if he had actually expelled the demon.\n\nAnanda replied in the affirmative.\n\n\u201cI am indeed rejoiced,\u201d returned the king, \u201cas thou now wilt without\ndoubt proceed to heal _my_ son, who has lain in a trance for\ntwenty-nine days.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas! dread sovereign,\u201d modestly returned Ananda, \u201chow should the\nmerits which barely suffice to effect the cure of a miserable Pariah\navail to restore the offspring of an Elephant among Kings?\u201d\n\n\u201cBy what process are these merits acquired?\u201d demanded the monarch.\n\n\u201cBy the exercise of penance,\u201d responded Ananda, \u201cin virtue of which the\naustere devotee quells the winds, allays the waters, expostulates\nconvincingly with tigers, carries the moon in his sleeve, and otherwise\nperforms all acts and deeds appropriate to the character of a\nperipatetic thaumaturgist.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis being so,\u201d answered the king, \u201cthy inability to heal my son\nmanifestly arises from defect of merit, and defect of merit from defect\nof penance. I will therefore consign thee to the charge of my Brahmins,\nthat they may aid thee to fill up the measure of that which is\nlacking.\u201d\n\nAnanda vainly strove to explain that the austerities to which he had\nreferred were entirely of a spiritual and contemplative character. The\nBrahmins, enchanted to get a heretic into their clutches, immediately\nseized upon him, and conveyed him to one of their temples. They\nstripped him, and perceived with astonishment that not one single weal\nor scar was visible anywhere on his person. \u201cHorror!\u201d they exclaimed;\n\u201chere is a man who expects to go to heaven in a whole skin!\u201d To obviate\nthis breach of etiquette, they laid him upon his face, and flagellated\nhim until the obnoxious soundness of cuticle was entirely removed. They\nthen departed, promising to return next day and operate in a\ncorresponding manner upon the anterior part of his person, after which,\nthey jeeringly assured him, his merits would be in no respect less than\nthose of the saintly Bhagiratha, or of the regal Viswamitra himself.\n\nAnanda lay half dead upon the floor of the temple, when the sanctuary\nwas illuminated by the apparition of a resplendent Glendoveer, who thus\naddressed him:\n\n\u201cWell, backsliding disciple, art thou yet convinced of thy folly?\u201d\n\nAnanda relished neither the imputation on his orthodoxy nor that on his\nwisdom. He replied, notwithstanding, with all meekness:\n\n\u201cHeaven forbid that I should repine at any variety of martyrdom that\ntends to the propagation of my master\u2019s faith.\u201d\n\n\u201cWilt thou then first be healed, and moreover become the instrument of\nconverting the entire realm of Magadha?\u201d\n\n\u201cHow shall this be accomplished?\u201d demanded Ananda.\n\n\u201cBy perseverance in the path of deceit and disobedience,\u201d returned the\nGlendoveer.\n\nAnanda winced, but maintained silence in the expectation of more\nexplicit directions.\n\n\u201cKnow,\u201d pursued the spirit, \u201cthat the king\u2019s son will revive from his\ntrance at the expiration of the thirtieth day, which takes place at\nnoon to-morrow. Thou hast but to proceed at the fitting period to the\ncouch whereon he is deposited, and, placing thy hand upon his heart, to\ncommand him to rise forthwith. His recovery will be ascribed to thy\nsupernatural powers, and the establishment of Buddha\u2019s religion will\nresult. Before this it will be needful that I should perform an actual\ncure upon thy back, which is within the compass of my capacity. I only\nrequest thee to take notice, that thou wilt on this occasion be\ntransgressing the precepts of thy master with thine eyes open. It is\nalso meet to apprise thee that thy temporary extrication from thy\npresent difficulties will only involve thee in others still more\nformidable.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn incorporeal Glendoveer is no judge of the feelings of a flayed\napostle,\u201d thought Ananda. \u201cHeal me,\u201d he replied, \u201cif thou canst, and\nreserve thy admonitions for a more convenient opportunity.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo be it,\u201d returned the Glendoveer; and as he extended his hand over\nAnanda, the latter\u2019s back was clothed anew with skin, and his previous\nsmart simultaneously allayed. The Glendoveer vanished at the same\nmoment, saying, \u201cWhen thou hast need of me, pronounce but the\nincantation, _Gnooh Imdap Inam Mua_, [*] and I will immediately be by\nthy side.\u201d\n\n*) The mystic formula of the Buddhists, read backwards.\n\n\nThe anger and amazement of the Brahmins may be conceived when, on\nreturning equipped with fresh implements of flagellation, they\ndiscovered the salubrious condition of their victim. Their scourges\nwould probably have undergone conversion into halters, had they not\nbeen accompanied by a royal officer, who took the really triumphant\nmartyr under his protection, and carried him off to the palace. He was\nspeedily conducted to the young prince\u2019s couch, whither a vast crowd\nattended him. The hour of noon not having yet arrived, Ananda\ndiscreetly protracted the time by a seasonable discourse on the\nimpossibility of miracles, those only excepted which should be wrought\nby the professors of the faith of Buddha. He then descended from his\npulpit, and precisely as the sun attained the zenith laid his hand upon\nthe bosom of the young prince, who instantly revived, and completed a\nsentence touching the game of dice which had been interrupted by his\ncatalepsy.\n\nThe people shouted, the courtiers went into ecstasies, the countenances\nof the Brahmins assumed an exceedingly sheepish expression. Even the\nking seemed impressed, and craved to be more particularly instructed in\nthe law of Buddha. In complying with this request, Ananda, who had made\nmarvellous progress in worldly wisdom during the last twenty-four\nhours, deemed it needless to dilate on the cardinal doctrines of his\nmaster, the misery of existence, the need of redemption, the path to\nfelicity, the prohibition to shed blood. He simply stated that the\npriests of Buddha were bound to perpetual poverty, and that under the\nnew dispensation all ecclesiastical property would accrue to the\ntemporal authorities.\n\n\u201cBy the holy cow!\u201d exclaimed the monarch, \u201cthis is something like a\nreligion!\u201d\n\nThe words were scarcely out of the royal lips ere the courtiers\nprofessed themselves converts. The multitude followed their example.\nThe Brahminical church was promptly disestablished and disendowed, and\nmore injustice was committed in the name of the new and purified\nreligion in one day than the old corrupt one had occasioned in a\nhundred years.\n\nAnanda had the satisfaction of feeling able to forgive his adversaries,\nand of valuing himself accordingly; and to complete his felicity, he\nwas received in the palace, and entrusted with the education of the\nking\u2019s son, which he strove to conduct agreeably to the precepts of\nBuddha. This was a task of some delicacy, as it involved interference\nwith the princely youth\u2019s favourite amusement, which had previously\nconsisted in torturing small reptiles.\n\nAfter a short interval Ananda was again summoned to the monarch\u2019s\npresence. He found his majesty in the company of two most ferocious\nruffians, one of whom bore a huge axe, and the other an enormous pair\nof pincers.\n\n\u201cMy chief executioner and my chief tormentor,\u201d said the king.\n\nAnanda expressed his gratification at becoming acquainted with such\nexalted functionaries.\n\n\u201cThou must know, most holy man,\u201d resumed the king, \u201cthat need has again\narisen for the exercise of fortitude and self-denial on thy part. A\npowerful enemy has invaded my dominions, and has impiously presumed to\ndiscomfit my troops. Well might I feel dismayed, were it not for the\nconsolations of religion; but my trust is in thee, O spiritual father!\nIt is urgent that thou shouldst accumulate the largest amount of merit\nwith the least delay possible. I am unable to invoke the ministrations\nof thy old friends the Brahmins to this end, they being, as thou\nknowest, in disgrace, but I have summoned these trusty and experienced\ncounsellors in their room. I find them not wholly in accord. My chief\ntormentor, being a man of mild temper and humane disposition, considers\nthat it might at first suffice to employ gentle measures, such, for\nexample, as suspending thee head downwards in the smoke of a wood fire,\nand filling thy nostrils with red pepper. My chief executioner, taking,\nperadventure, a too professional view of the subject, deems it best to\nresort at once to crucifixion or impalement. I would gladly know thy\nthoughts on the matter.\u201d\n\nAnanda expressed, as well as his terror would suffer him, his entire\ndisapproval of both the courses recommended by the royal advisers.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said the king, with an air of resignation, \u201cif we cannot agree\nupon either, it follows that we must try both. We will meet for that\npurpose to-morrow morning at the second hour. Go in peace!\u201d\n\nAnanda went, but not in peace. His alarm would have well-nigh deprived\nhim of his faculties if he had not remembered the promise made him by\nhis former deliverer. On reaching a secluded spot he pronounced the\nmystic formula, and immediately became aware of the presence, not of a\nradiant Glendoveer, but of a holy man, whose head was strewn with\nashes, and his body anointed with cow-dung.\n\n\u201cThy occasion,\u201d said the Fakir, \u201cbrooks no delay. Thou must immediately\naccompany me, and assume the garb of a Jogi.\u201d\n\nAnanda rebelled excessively in his heart, for he had imbibed from the\nmild and sage Buddha a befitting contempt for these grotesque and\ncadaverous fanatics. The emergency, however, left him no resource, and\nhe followed his guide to a charnel house, which the latter had selected\nas his domicile. There, with many lamentations over the smoothness of\nhis hair and the brevity of his nails, the Jogi besprinkled and\nbesmeared Ananda agreeably to his own pattern, and scored him with\nchalk and ochre until the peaceful apostle of the gentlest of creeds\nresembled a Bengal tiger. He then hung a chaplet of infants\u2019 skulls\nabout his neck, placed the skull of a malefactor in one of his hands\nand the thigh-bone of a necromancer in the other, and at nightfall\nconducted him into the adjacent cemetery, where, seating him on the\nashes of a recent funeral pile, he bade him drum upon the skull with\nthe thigh-bone, and repeat after himself the incantations which he\nbegan to scream out towards the western part of the firmament. These\ncharms were apparently possessed of singular efficacy, for scarcely\nwere they commenced ere a hideous tempest arose, rain descended in\ntorrents, phosphoric flashes darted across the sky, wolves and hy\u00e6nas\nthronged howling from their dens, and gigantic goblins, arising from\nthe earth, extended their fleshless arms towards Ananda, and strove to\ndrag him from his seat. Urged by frantic terror, and the example and\nexhortations of his companion, he battered, banged, and vociferated,\nuntil on the very verge of exhaustion; when, as if by enchantment, the\ntempest ceased, the spectres disappeared, and joyous shouts and a burst\nof music announced the occurrence of something auspicious in the\nadjoining city.\n\n\u201cThe hostile king is dead,\u201d said the Jogi; \u201cand his army has dispersed.\nThis will be attributed to thy incantations. They are coming in quest\nof thee even now. Farewell until thou again hast need of me.\u201d\n\nThe Jogi disappeared, the tramp of a procession became audible, and\nsoon torches glared feebly through the damp, cheerless dawn. The\nmonarch descended from his state elephant, and, prostrating himself\nbefore Ananda, exclaimed:\n\n\u201cInestimable man! why didst thou not disclose that thou wert a Jogi?\nNever more shall I feel the least apprehension of any of my enemies, so\nlong as thou continuest an inmate of this cemetery.\u201d\n\nA family of jackals were unceremoniously dislodged from a disused\nsepulchre, which was allotted to Ananda for his future residence. The\nking permitted no alteration in his costume, and took care that the\nfood doled out to him should have no tendency to impair his sanctity,\nwhich speedily gave promise of attaining a very high pitch. His hair\nhad already become as matted and his nails as long as the Jogi could\nhave desired, when he received a visit from another royal messenger.\nThe Rajah, so ran the regal missive, had been suddenly and mysteriously\nattacked by a dangerous malady, but confidently anticipated relief from\nAnanda\u2019s merits and incantations.\n\nAnanda resumed his thigh-bone and his skull, and ruefully began to\nthump the latter with the former, in dismal expectation of the things\nthat were to come. But the spell seemed to have lost its potency.\nNothing more unearthly than a bat presented itself, and Ananda was\nbeginning to think that he might as well desist when his reflections\nwere diverted by the apparition of a tall and grave personage, wearing\na sad-coloured robe, and carrying a long wand, who stood by his side as\nsuddenly as though just risen from the earth.\n\n\u201cThe caldron is ready,\u201d said the stranger.\n\n\u201cWhat caldron?\u201d demanded Ananda.\n\n\u201cThat wherein thou art about to be immersed.\u201d\n\n\u201cI immersed in a caldron! wherefore?\u201d\n\n\u201cThy spells,\u201d returned his interlocutor, \u201chaving hitherto failed to\nafford his majesty the slightest relief, and his experience of their\nefficacy on a former occasion forbidding him to suppose that they can\nbe inoperative, he is naturally led to ascribe to their pernicious\ninfluence that aggravation of pain of which he has for some time past\nunfortunately been sensible. I have confirmed him in this conjecture,\nesteeming it for the interest of science that his anger should fall\nupon an impudent impostor like thee rather than on a discreet and\nlearned physician like myself. He has consequently directed the\nprincipal caldron to be kept boiling all night, intending to immerse\nthee therein at daybreak, unless he should in the meantime derive some\nbenefit from thy conjurations.\u201d\n\n\u201cHeavens!\u201d exclaimed Ananda, \u201cwhither shall I fly?\u201d\n\n\u201cNowhere beyond this cemetery,\u201d returned the physician, \u201cinasmuch as it\nis entirely surrounded by the royal forces.\u201d\n\n\u201cWherein, then,\u201d demanded the agonized apostle, \u201cdoth the path of\nsafety lie?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn this phial,\u201d answered the physician. \u201cIt contains a subtle poison.\nDemand to be led before the king. Affirm that thou hast received a\nsovereign medicine from the hands of benignant spirits. He will drink\nit and perish, and thou wilt be richly rewarded by his successor.\u201d\n\n\u201cAyaunt, tempter!\u201d cried Ananda, hurling the phial indignantly away. \u201cI\ndefy thee! and will have recourse to my old deliverer\u2014_Gnooh Imdap Inam\nMua!\u201d_\n\nBut the charm appeared to fail of its effect. No figure was visible to\nhis gaze, save that of the physician, who seemed to regard him with an\nexpression of pity as he gathered up his robes and melted rather than\nglided into the encompassing darkness.\n\nAnanda remained, contending with himself. Countless times was he on the\npoint of calling after the physician and imploring him to return with a\npotion of like properties to the one rejected, but something seemed\nalways to rise in his throat and impede his utterance, until, worn out\nby agitation, he fell asleep and dreamed this dream.\n\nHe thought he stood at the vast and gloomy entrance of Patala. [*] The\nlugubrious spot wore a holiday appearance; everything seemed to denote\na diabolical gala. Swarms of demons of all shapes and sizes beset the\nportal, contemplating what appeared to be preparations for an\nillumination. Strings of coloured lamps were in course of disposition\nin wreaths and festoons by legions of frolicsome imps, chattering,\nlaughing, and swinging by their tails like so many monkeys. The\noperation was directed from below by superior fiends of great apparent\ngravity and respectability. These bore wands of office, tipped with\nyellow flames, wherewith they singed the tails of the imps when such\ndiscipline appeared to them to be requisite. Ananda could not refrain\nfrom asking the reason of these festive preparations.\n\n*) The Hindoo Pandemonium.\n\n\n\u201cThey are in honour,\u201d responded the demon interrogated, \u201cof the pious\nAnanda, one of the apostles of the Lord Buddha, whose advent is hourly\nexpected among us with much eagerness and satisfaction.\u201d\n\nThe horrified Ananda with much difficulty mustered resolution to\ninquire on what account the apostle in question was necessitated to\ntake up his abode in the infernal regions.\n\n\u201cOn account of poisoning,\u201d returned the fiend laconically.\n\nAnanda was about to seek further explanations, when his attention was\narrested by a violent altercation between two of the supervising\ndemons.\n\n\u201cKammuragha, evidently,\u201d croaked one.\n\n\u201cDamburanana, of course,\u201d snarled the other.\n\n\u201cMay I,\u201d inquired Ananda of the fiend he had before addressed, \u201cpresume\nto ask the signification of Kammuragha and Damburanana?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are two hells,\u201d replied the demon. \u201cIn Kammuragha the occupant is\nplunged into melted pitch and fed with melted lead. In Damburanana he\nis plunged into melted lead and fed with melted pitch. My colleagues\nare debating which is the more appropriate to the demerits of our guest\nAnanda.\u201d\n\nEre Ananda had had time to digest this announcement a youthful imp\ndescended from above with agility, and, making a profound reverence,\npresented himself before the disputants.\n\n\u201cVenerable demons,\u201d interposed he, \u201cmight my insignificance venture to\nsuggest that we cannot well testify too much honour for our visitor\nAnanda, seeing that he is the only apostle of Buddha with whose company\nwe are likely ever to be indulged? Wherefore I would propose that\nneither Kammuragha nor Damburanana be assigned for his residence, but\nthat the amenities of all the two hundred and forty-four thousand hells\nbe combined in a new one, constructed especially for his reception.\u201d\n\nThe imp having thus spoken, the senior demons were amazed at his\nprecocity, and performed a _pradakshina_, exclaiming, \u201cTruly thou art a\nhighly superior young devil!\u201d They then departed to prepare the new\ninfernal chamber, agreeably to his recipe.\n\nAnanda awoke, shuddering with terror.\n\n\u201cWhy,\u201d he exclaimed, \u201cwhy was I ever an apostle? O Buddha! Buddha! how\nhard are the paths of saintliness! How prone to error are the\nwell-meaning! How huge is the absurdity of spiritual pride!\u201d\n\n\u201cThou hast discovered that, my son?\u201d said a gentle voice in his\nvicinity.\n\nHe turned and beheld the divine Buddha, radiant with a mild and\nbenignant light. A cloud seemed rolled away from his vision, and he\nrecognised in his master the Glendoveer, the Jogi, and the Physician.\n\n\u201cO holy teacher!\u201d exclaimed he in extreme perturbation, \u201cwhither shall\nI turn? My sin forbids me to approach thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot on account of thy sin art thou forbidden, my son,\u201d returned\nBuddha, \u201cbut on account of the ridiculous and unsavoury plight to which\nthy knavery and disobedience have reduced thee. I have now appeared to\nremind thee that this day all my apostles meet on Mount Vindhya to\nrender an account of their mission, and to inquire whether I am to\ndeliver thine in thy stead, or whether thou art minded to proclaim it\nthyself.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will render it with my own lips,\u201d resolutely exclaimed Ananda. \u201cIt\nis meet that I should bear the humiliation of acknowledging my folly.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou hast said well, my son,\u201d replied Buddha, \u201cand in return I will\npermit thee to discard the attire, if such it may be termed, of a Jogi,\nand to appear in our assembly wearing the yellow robe as beseems my\ndisciple. Nay, I will even infringe my own rule on thy behalf, and\nperform a not inconsiderable miracle by immediately transporting thee\nto the summit of Vindhya, where the faithful are already beginning to\nassemble. Thou wouldst otherwise incur much risk of being torn to\npieces by the multitude, who, as the shouts now approaching may\ninstruct thee, are beginning to extirpate my religion at the\ninstigation of the new king, thy hopeful pupil. The old king is dead,\npoisoned by the Brahmins.\u201d\n\n\u201cO master! master!\u201d exclaimed Ananda, weeping bitterly, \u201cand is all the\nwork undone, and all by my fault and folly?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat which is built on fraud and imposture can by no means endure,\u201d\nreturned Buddha, \u201cbe it the very truth of Heaven. Be comforted; thou\nshalt proclaim my doctrine to better purpose in other lands. Thou hast\nthis time but a sorry account to render of thy stewardship; yet thou\nmayest truly declare that thou hast obeyed my precept in the letter, if\nnot in the spirit, since none can assert that thou hast ever wrought\nany miracle.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE CITY OF PHILOSOPHERS\n\nI\n\nNature is manifold, not infinite, though the extent of the resources of\nwhich she can dispose almost enables her to pass for such. Her cards\nare so multitudinous that the pairs are easily shuffled into ages so\nfar asunder that their resemblance escapes remark. But sometimes her\nmischievous daughter Fortune manages to thrust these duplicates into\nsuch conspicuous places that their similarity cannot pass unobserved,\nand Nature is caught plagiarising from herself. She is thus detected\ndealing a king\u2014or knave\u2014a second time in the person of a king who has\nalready fallen from her pack as an emperor. Brilliant, careless,\nselfish, yet good-natured _vauriens_, the Roman Emperor Gallienus and\nour Charles the Second excelled in every art save the art of reigning,\nand might have excelled in that also if they would have taken the\ntrouble. The circumstances of their reigns were in many respects as\nsimilar as their characters. Both were the sons of grave and strict\nfathers, each of whom had met with terrible misfortunes: one deprived\nof his liberty by his enemies, the other of his head by his own\nsubjects. Each of the sons had been grievously vexed by rebels, but\nCharles\u2019s troubles from this quarter had mostly ended where those of\nGallienus began. Each saw his dominions ravaged by pestilence in a\nmanner beyond all former experience. The Goths destroyed the temple of\nthe Ephesian Diana, and the Dutch burned the English fleet at Chatham.\nCharles shut up the Exchequer, and Gallienus debased the coinage.\nCharles accepted a pension from Louis XIV., and Gallienus devolved the\nburden of his Eastern provinces on a Syrian Emir. Their tastes and\npursuits were as similar as their histories. Charles excelled as a wit\nand a critic; Gallienus as a poet and a gastronomer. Charles was\ncurious about chemistry, and founded the Royal Society. In the third\ncentury the conception of the systematic investigation of nature did\nnot exist. Gallienus, therefore, could not patronise exact science; and\nthe great literary light of the age, Longinus, irradiated the court of\nPalmyra. But the Emperor bestowed his favour in ample measure on the\nchief contemporary philosopher, Plotinus, who strove to unite the\ncharacters of Plato and Pythagoras, of sage and seer. Like Schelling in\ntime to come, he maintained the necessity of a special organ for the\napprehension of philosophy, without perceiving that he thereby\nproclaimed philosophy bankrupt, and placed himself on the level of the\nOriental hierophants, with whose sublime quackeries the modest sage\ncould not hope to contend. So extreme was his humility, that he would\nnot claim to have been consciously united to the Divinity more than\nfour times in his life; without condemning magic and thaumaturgy, he\nleft their practice to more adventurous spirits, and contented himself\nwith the occasional visits of a familiar demon in the shape of a\nserpent. He experienced, however, frequent visitations of trance or\necstasy, sometimes lasting for a long period; and it may have been in\none of these that he was inspired by the idea of asking the Emperor for\na decayed city in Campania, there to establish a philosophic\ncommonwealth as nearly upon the model of Plato\u2019s Republic as the\ndegeneracy of the times would allow.\n\n\u201cI cannot,\u201d said Gallienus, when the project had been explained to him,\n\u201cobject in principle to aught so festive and jocose. The age is turned\nupside down; its comedians are lamentable, and its sages ludicrous. It\nmust moreover, I apprehend, be sated with the earthquakes, famines,\npestilences, and barbarian invasions with which it hath been\nexclusively regaled for so long, and must crave something enlivening,\nof the nature of thy proposition. But whether, when we arrive at the\nconsideration of ways and means, I shall find my interview with my\ntreasurer enlivening, is gravely to be questioned. I have heard\nhomilies enough on my prodigality, which merely means that I prefer\nspending my treasures on myself to saving them for my successor, whose\ntitle will probably have been acquired by cutting my throat.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know,\u201d said Plotinus, \u201cthat the expenses of administering an empire\nmust necessarily be prodigious. I am aware that the principal generals\nare only kept to their allegiance by enormous bribes. I well understand\nthat the Empress must have pearls, and that the Roman populace must\nhave panthers; and that, since Egypt has revolted, the hippopotamus is\nworth his weight in gold. I am further aware that the proposed colossal\nstatue of your Majesty in the same metal, including a staircase, with\nroom in the head for a child, like another Pallas in the brain of Zeus,\nmust alone involve very considerable outlay. But I am encouraged by\nyour Majesty\u2019s wise and statesmanlike measure of debasing the currency;\nsince, money having become devoid of value, there can be no difficulty\nin devoting any amount of it to any purpose required.\u201d\n\n\u201cPlotinus,\u201d said Gallienus, \u201cin this age the devil is taking the\nhindmost, and we are the hindmost. There are tidings to-day of a new\nearthquake in Bithynia, and three days\u2019 darkness, also of outbreaks of\npestilence, and incursions of the barbarians, too numerous as well as\ntoo disagreeable to mention. At this moment some revolted legion is\nprobably forcing the purple upon some reluctant general; and the\nPersian king, a great equestrian, is doubtless mounting his horse by\nthe aid of my father\u2019s back. If I had been an old Roman, I should by\nthis time have avenged my father, but I am a man of my age. Take the\nmoney for thy city, and see that it yields me some amusement at any\nrate. I assume, of course, that thou wilt exercise severe economy, and\nthat cresses and spring water will be the diet of thy philosophers.\nFarewell, I go to Gaul to encounter Postumus. Willingly would I leave\nhim in peace in Gaul if he would leave me in peace in Italy; but I\nforesee that if I do not attack him there he will attack me here. As if\nthe Empire were not large enough for us all! What an ass the fellow\nmust be!\u201d\n\nAnd so Gallienus changed his silk for steel, and departed for his\nGallic campaign, where he bore himself more stoutly than his light talk\nwould have led those who judged him by it to expect. Plotinus, provided\nwith an Imperial rescript, undertook the regulation of his\nphilosophical commonwealth in Campania, where a brief experience of\narchitects and sophists threw him into an ecstasy, not of joy, which\nendured an unusually long time.\n\nII\n\nOn awakening from his long trance, Plotinus\u2019s first sensation was one\nof bodily hunger, the second of an even keener appetite for news of his\nphilosophical Republic. In both respects it promised well to perceive\nthat his chamber was occupied by his most eminent scholar, Porphyry,\nthough he was less gratified to observe his disciple busied, instead of\nwith the scrolls of the sages, with an enormous roll of accounts, which\nappeared to be occasioning him much perplexity.\n\n\u201cPorphyry!\u201d cried the master, and the faithful disciple was by his\ncouch in a moment.\n\nWe pass over the mutual joy, the greetings, the administration of\nrestoratives and creature comforts, the eager interrogations of\nPorphyry respecting the things his master had heard and seen in his\ntrance, which proved to be unspeakable.\n\n\u201cAnd now,\u201d said Plotinus, who with all his mysticism was so good a man\nof business that, as his biographers acquaint us, he was in special\nrequest as a trustee, \u201cand now, concerning this roll of thine. Is it\npossible that the accounts connected with the installation of a few\nabstemious lovers of wisdom can have swollen to such a prodigous bulk?\nBut indeed, why few? Peradventure all the philosophers of the earth\nhave flocked to my city.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt has, indeed,\u201d said Porphyry evasively, \u201cbeen found necessary to\nincur certain expenses not originally foreseen.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor a library, perhaps?\u201d inquired Plotinus. \u201cI remember thinking, just\nbefore my ecstasy, that the scrolls of the divine Plato, many of them\nautographic, might require some special housing.\u201d\n\n\u201cI rejoice to state,\u201d rejoined Porphyry, \u201cthat it is not these volumes\nthat have involved us in our present difficulties with the\nsuperintendent of the Imperial treasury, nor can they indeed, seeing\nthat they are now impignorated with him.\u201d\n\n\u201cPlato\u2019s manuscripts pawned!\u201d exclaimed Plotinus, aghast. \u201cWherefore?\u201d\n\n\u201cAs part collateral security for expenses incurred on behalf of objects\ndeemed of more importance by the majority of the philosophers.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor example?\u201d\n\n\u201cRepairing bath and completing amphitheatre.\u201d\n\n\u201cBath! Amphitheatre!\u201d gasped Plotinus.\n\n\u201cO dear master,\u201d remonstrated Porphyry, \u201cthou didst not deem that\nphilosophers could be induced to settle in a spot devoid of these\nnecessaries? Not a single one would have stayed if I had not yielded to\ntheir demands, which, as regarded the bath, involved the addition of\nexedrae and of a sphaeristerium.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what can they want with an amphitheatre?\u201d groaned Plotinus.\n\n\u201cThey _say_ it is for lectures,\u201d replied Porphyry;\n\n\u201cI trust there is no truth in the rumour that the head of the Stoics is\nthree parts owner of a lion of singular ferocity.\u201d\n\n\u201cI must see to this as soon as I can get about,\u201d said Plotinus, turning\nto the accounts. \u201cWhat\u2019s this? To couch and litter for head of\nPeripatetic school!\u201d\n\n\u201cWho is so enormously fat,\u201d explained Porphyry, \u201cthat these\nconveniences are really indispensable to him. The Peripatetic school is\npositively at a standstill.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd no great matter,\u201d said Plotinus; \u201cits master Aristotle was at best\na rationalist, without perception of the supersensual. What\u2019s this? To\nMaximus, for the invocation of demons.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat,\u201d said Porphyry, \u201cis our own Platonic dirty linen, and I heartily\nwish we were washing it elsewhere. Thou must know, dear master, that\nduring thy trance the theurgic movement has attained a singular\ndevelopment, and that thou art regarded with disdain by thy younger\ndisciples as one wholly behind the age, unacquainted with the higher\nmagic, and who can produce no other outward and visible token of the\nDivine favour than the occasional companionship of a serpent.\u201d\n\n\u201cI would not assert that theurgy may not be lawfully undertaken,\u201d\nreplied Plotinus, \u201cprovided that the adept shall have purified himself\nby a fast of forty months.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt may be from neglect of this precaution,\u201d said Porphyry, \u201cthat our\nMaximus finds it so much easier to evoke the shades of Commodus and\nCaracalla than those of Socrates and Marcus Aurelius; and that these\ngood spirits, when they do come, have no more recondite information to\nconvey than that virtue differs from vice, and that one\u2019s grandmother\nis a fitting object of reverence.\u201d\n\n\u201cI fear this must expose Platonic truth to the derision of Epicurean\nscoffers,\u201d remarked Plotinus.\n\n\u201cO master, speak not of Epicureans, still less of Stoics! Wait till\nthou hast regained thy full strength, and then take counsel of some\noracle.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat meanest thou?\u201d exclaimed Plotinus, \u201cI insist upon knowing.\u201d\n\nPorphyry was saved from replying by the hasty entrance of a bustling\nportly personage of loud voice and imperious manner, in whom Plotinus\nrecognised Theocles, the chief of the Stoics.\n\n\u201cI rejoice, Plotinus,\u201d he began, \u201cthat thou hast at length emerged from\nthat condition of torpor, so unworthy of a philosopher, which I might\nwell designate as charlatanism were I not so firmly determined to speak\nno word which can offend any man. Thou wilt now be able to reprehend\nthe malice or obtuseness of thy deputy, and to do me right in my\ncontention with these impure dogs.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhich be they?\u201d asked Plotinus.\n\n\u201cDo I not sufficiently indicate the followers of Epicurus?\u201d demanded\nthe Stoic.\n\n\u201cO master,\u201d explained Porphyry, \u201cin allotting and fitting up apartments\ndesigned for the respective sects of philosophers I naturally gave heed\nto what I understood to be the principles of each. To the Epicureans,\nas lovers of pleasure and luxury, I assigned the most commodious\nquarters, furnished the same with soft cushions and costly hangings,\nand provided a liberal table. I should have deemed it insulting to have\noffered any of these things to the frugal followers of Zeno, and\nnothing can surpass my astonishment at the manner in which the austere\nTheocles has incessantly persecuted me for choice food and wine,\nstately rooms and soft couches.\u201d\n\n\u201cO Plotinus,\u201d replied Theocles, \u201clet me make the grounds of my conduct\nclear to thee. In the first place, the honour of my school is in my\nkeeping. What will the vulgar think when they see the sty of Epicurus\nsumptuously adorned, and the porch of Zeno shabby and bare? Will they\nnot deem that the Epicureans are highly respected and the Stoics made\nof little account? Furthermore, how can I and my disciples manifest our\ncontempt for gold, dainties, wine, fine linen, and all the other\ninstruments of luxury, unless we have them to despise? Shall we not\nappear like foxes, vilipending the grapes that we cannot reach? Not so;\noffer me delicacies that I may reject them, wine that I may pour it\ninto the kennel, Tyrian purple that I may trample upon it, gold that I\nmay fling it away; if it break an Epicurean\u2019s head, so much the\nbetter.\u201d\n\n\u201cPlotinus,\u201d said Hermon, the chief of the Epicureans, who had meanwhile\nentered the apartment, \u201clet this hypocrite have what he wants, and send\nhim away. I and my followers are perfectly willing to remove at once\ninto the inferior apartments, and leave ours for his occupation with\nall their furniture, and the reversion of our bill of fare. Thou\nshould\u2019st know that the imputations of the vulgar against our sect are\nthe grossest calumnies. The Epicurean places happiness in tranquil\nenjoyment, not in luxury or sensual pleasures. There is not a thing I\npossess which I am not perfectly willing to resign, except the society\nof my female disciple.\u201d\n\n\u201cThy female disciple!\u201d exclaimed the horrified Plotinus. \u201cThou art\nworse than the Stoic!\u201d\n\n\u201cPlotinus,\u201d said the Epicurean, \u201cconsider well ere, as is the manner of\nPlatonists, thou committest thyself to a proposition of a transparently\nfoolish nature. Thou desirest to gather all sorts of philosophers\naround thee, but to what end, if they are restrained from manifesting\ntheir characteristic tenets? Thou mightest as well seek to illustrate\nthe habits of animals by establishing a menagerie in which panthers\nshould eat grass, and antelopes be dieted on rabbits. An Epicurean\nwithout his female companion, unless by his own choice, is no more an\nEpicurean than a Cynic is a Cynic without his rags and his impudence.\nWilt thou take from me my Pannychis, an object pleasing to the eye, and\nleave yonder fellow his tatters and his vermin?\u201d\n\nThe apartment had gradually filled with philosophers, and Hermon was\npointing to a follower of Diogenes whose robe so fully bespoke his\nobedience to his master\u2019s precepts that his skin seemed almost clean in\ncomparison.\n\n\u201cConsider also,\u201d continued the Epicurean, \u201cthat thou art thyself by no\nmeans exempt from scandal.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat does the man mean?\u201d demanded Plotinus, turning to Porphyry.\n\n\u201cGet them away,\u201d whispered the disciple, \u201cand I will tell thee.\u201d\n\nPlotinus hastily conceded the point raised with reference to the\ninteresting Pannychis, and the philosophers went off to effect their\nexchange of quarters. As soon as the room was clear, he repeated:\n\n\u201cWhat _does_ the man mean?\u201d\n\n\u201cI suppose he is thinking of Leaena,\u201d said Porphyry.\n\n\u201cThe most notorious character in Rome, who, finding her charms on the\nwane, has lately betaken herself to philosophy?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe same.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat of her?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe has followed thee here. She affects the greatest devotion to thee.\nShe vows that nothing shall make her budge until thou hast recovered\nfrom thy ecstasy, and admitted her as thy disciple. She has rejected\nnumerous overtures from the philosopher Theocles; entirely for thy\nsake, she affirms. She comes three times a day to inquire respecting\nthy condition, and I fear it must be acknowledged that she has once or\ntwice managed to get into thy chamber.\u201d\n\n\u201cO ye immortal Gods!\u201d groaned Plotinus.\n\n\u201cHere she is!\u201d exclaimed Porphyry, as a woman of masculine stature and\nbearing, with the remains of beauty not unskilfully patched, forced an\nentrance into the room.\n\n\u201cPlotinus,\u201d she exclaimed, \u201cbehold the most impassioned of thy\ndisciples. Let us celebrate the mystic nuptials of Wisdom and Beauty.\nLet the claims of my sex to philosophic distinction be vindicated in my\nperson.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe question of the admission of women to share the studies and\nsociety of men,\u201d rejoined Plotinus, \u201cis one by no means exempt from\ndifficulty.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow so? I deemed it had been determined long ago in favour of\nAspasia?\u201d\n\n\u201cAspasia,\u201d said Plotinus, \u201cwas a very exceptional woman.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd am not I?\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope, that is, I conceive so,\u201d said Plotinus. \u201cBut one may be an\nexceptional woman without being an Aspasia.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow so? Am I inferior to Aspasia in beauty?\u201d\n\n\u201cI should hope not,\u201d said Plotinus ambiguously.\n\n\u201cOr in the irregularity of my deportment?\u201d\n\n\u201cI should think not,\u201d said Plotinus, with more confidence.\n\n\u201cThen why does the Plato of our age hesitate to welcome his Diotima?\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause,\u201d said Plotinus, \u201cyou are not Diotima, and I am not Plato.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am sure I am as much like Diotima as you are like Plato,\u201d retorted\nthe lady. \u201cBut let us come to our own time. Do I not hear that that\ncreature Pannychis has obtained the freedom of the philosophers\u2019 city,\nand the right to study therein?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe takes private lessons from Hermon, who is responsible for her.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe very thing!\u201d exclaimed Leaena triumphantly. \u201cI take private\nlessons from thee, and thou art responsible for me. Venus! what\u2019s\nthat?\u201d\n\nThe exclamation was prompted by the sudden appearance of an enormous\nserpent, which, emerging from a chink in the wall, glided swiftly\ntowards the couch of Plotinus. He reached forward to greet it, uttering\na cry of pleasure.\n\n\u201cMy guardian, my tutelary d\u00e6mon,\u201d he exclaimed, \u201cvisible manifestation\nof \u00c6sculapius! Then I am not forsaken by the immortal gods.\u201d\n\n\u201cTake away the monster,\u201d cried Leaena, in violent agitation, \u201cthe nasty\nthing! Plotinus, how can you? Oh, I shall faint! I shall die! Take it\naway, I say. You must choose between it and me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen, Madam,\u201d said Plotinus, civilly but firmly, \u201cI choose _it_.\u201d\n\n\u201cThank \u00c6sculapius we are rid of her,\u201d he added, as Leaena vanished from\nthe apartment.\n\n\u201cI wish I knew that,\u201d said Porphyry.\n\nAnd indeed after no long time a note came up from Theocles, who was\nsure that Plotinus would not refuse him that privilege of instructing a\nfemale disciple which had been already, with such manifest advantage to\nphilosophical research, accorded to his colleague Hermon. No objection\ncould well be made, especially as Plotinus did not foresee how many\nchambermaids, and pages, and cooks, and perfumers, and tiring women and\nbath attendants would be required, ere Leaena could feel herself\nmoderately comfortable. How unlike the modest Pannychis! who wanted but\nhalf a bed, which need not be stuffed with the down of hares or the\nfeathers of partridges, without which sleep refused to visit Leaena\u2019s\neyelids.\n\nIt was natural that Plotinus should appeal to Gallienus, now returned\nfrom the Gallic expedition, but he could extract nothing save\nmysterious intimations that the Emperor had his eye upon the\nphilosophers, and that they might find him among them when they least\nexpected it. Plotinus\u2019s spirits drooped, and Porphyry was almost glad\nwhen he again relapsed into an ecstasy.\n\nIII\n\nWhen Plotinus\u2019s eyes were at length opened, they fell not this time\nupon the faithful Porphyry, but upon two youthful followers of Plato\nwho were beguiling the tedium of their vigil at his bedside by a game\nof dice, which prevented their observing his resuscitation. After a\nmoment\u2019s hesitation Plotinus resolved to lie quiet in the hopes of\nhearing something that might indicate what influences were in the\nascendant in the philosophical republic. He had not long to wait.\n\n\u201cDice is dull work for long,\u201d said one of the young men, indolently\nthrowing himself back, and letting his caster fall upon the floor. \u201cTo\nthink how much better one might be employed, but for having to watch\nthis old fool here! I\u2019ve a great mind to call up a slave.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll the slaves are sure to have gone to the show, unless any of them\nshould be Christians. Besides, Porphyry would hear you, he\u2019s only in a\ncat\u2019s sleep,\u201d returned his companion.\n\n\u201cWell, I mean to say it\u2019s a shame. All the town will be in the theatre\nby this time.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow many gladiators, said you?\u201d\n\n\u201cForty pairs, the best show Campania has seen time out of mind.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow has it all come about?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, news comes of the death of Postumus, killed by his own soldiers,\nand this passes as a great victory for want of a better, \u2018We must have\na day of thanksgiving,\u2019 says Theocles. \u2018Right,\u2019 says Leaena, \u2018I am\ndying to see an exhibition of gladiators.\u2019 Theocles demurs at first,\nexpecting to have to find the money\u2014but Leaena tugs at his beard, and\nhe gives in. Just at the nick of time the right sort of fellow pops up\nnobody knows whence, a lanista with hair like curling helichryse, as\nTheocritus has it, and a small army of gladiators, whom, out of\ndevotion to the Emperor, he offers to exhibit for nothing. Who so\npleased as Theocles now? He takes the chair as archon with Leaena by\nhis side, and off goes every soul in the place, except Pannychis, who\ncannot bear the sight of blood, and Porphyry, who is an outrageous\nhumanitarian, and us poor devils left in charge of this old dreamer.\u201d\n\n\u201cCouldn\u2019t we leave him to mind himself? He isn\u2019t likely to awake yet.\u201d\n\n\u201cTry him with your cloak-pin.\u201d The student detached the implement in\nquestion, which was about the size of a small stiletto. Feeling\nuncertain what part of his person was to be the subject of experiment,\nPlotinus judged it advisable to manifest his recovery in an\nunmistakable fashion.\n\n\u201cO dear Master, what joy!\u201d cried both the students in a breath.\n\u201cPorphyry! Porphyry!\u201d\n\nThe trusty scholar appeared immediately, and under pretence of fetching\nfood, the two neophytes eloped to the amphitheatre.\n\n\u201cWhat means all this, Porphyry?\u201d demanded Plotinus sternly. \u201cThe City\nof Philosophers polluted by human blood! The lovers of wisdom mingling\nwith the dregs of the rabble!\u201d\n\nPorphyry\u2019s account, which Plotinus could only extract by consenting to\neat while his disciple talked, corresponded in all essential\nparticulars with that of the two young men.\n\n\u201cAnd I see not,\u201d added he, \u201cwhat we can do in the matter. This\nabomination is supposed to be in honour of the Emperor\u2019s victories. If\nwe interfere with it we shall be executed as rebels, supposing that we\nare not first torn to pieces as rioters.\u201d\n\n\u201cPorphyry,\u201d replied Plotinus, \u201cI should esteem this disgrace to\nphilosophy a disgrace to myself if I did not my utmost to avert it.\nRemain thou here, and perform my funeral rites if it be necessary.\u201d\n\nBut to this Porphyry would by no means consent, and the two\nphilosophers proceeded to the amphitheatre together. It was so crowded\nthat there was no room on the seats for another person. Theocles was\nenthroned in the chair of honour, his beard manifesting evident traces\nof the depilatories administered by Leaena, who nevertheless sat by his\nside, her voluptuous face gloating over the anticipated banquet of\nagony. The philosophic part of the spectators were ranged all around,\nthe remaining seats were occupied by a miscellaneous public. The master\nof the gladiators, a man of distinguished appearance, whose yellow\nlocks gave him the aspect of a barbarian prince, stood in the arena\nsurrounded by his myrmidons. The entry of Plotinus and Porphyry\nattracted his attention: he motioned to his followers, and in an\ninstant the philosophers were seized, bound, and gagged without the\nexcited assembly being in the least conscious of their presence.\n\nTwo men stepped out into the arena, both fine and attractive figures.\nThe athletic limbs, the fair complexion, the curling yellow hair of one\nproclaimed the Goth; he lightly swung his huge sword in his right hand,\nand looked as if his sole arm would easily put to flight the crowd of\neffeminate spectators. The other\u2019s beauty was of another sort; young,\nslender, pensive, spiritual, he looked like anything rather than a\ngladiator, and held his downward pointed sword with a negligent grasp.\n\n\u201cGuard thyself!\u201d cried the Goth, placing himself in an attitude of\noffence.\n\n\u201cI spill not the blood of a fellow-creature,\u201d answered the other,\ncasting his sword away from him.\n\n\u201cCoward!\u201d yelled well-nigh every voice in the amphitheatre.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d answered the youth with a grave smile, \u201cChristian.\u201d\n\nHis shield and helmet followed his sword, he stood entirely defenceless\nbefore his adversary.\n\n\u201cThrow him to my lion,\u201d cried Theocles.\n\n\u201cOr thy lioness,\u201d suggested Hermon.\n\nThis allusion to Leaena provoked a burst of laughter. Suddenly the Goth\naimed a mighty blow at the head of the unresisting man. A shorn curl\nfell to the ground, the consummate skill of the swordsman averted all\nfurther contact between his blade and the Christian, who remained erect\nand smiling, without having moved a muscle or an eyelash.\n\n\u201cMaster,\u201d said the Goth, addressing the lanista, \u201cI had rather fight\nten armed men than this unarmed one.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood,\u201d returned his lord, with a gesture of approval. \u201cRetire both of\nyou.\u201d\n\nA roar of disapprobation broke out from the spectators, which seemed\nnot to produce the slightest effect on the lanista.\n\n\u201cTurn out the next pair,\u201d they cried.\n\n\u201cI shall not,\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cWherefore?\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause I do not choose.\u201d\n\n\u201cRogue! Cheat! Swindler! Cast him into prison! Throw him to the lion!\u201d\nSuch epithets and recommendations rained from the spectators\u2019 seats,\naccompanied by a pelting of more substantial missiles. In an instant\nthe yellow hair and common dress lay on the ground, and those who knew\nhim not by the features could by the Imperial ornaments recognise the\nEmperor Gallienus. With no less celerity his followers, the Goth and\nthe Christian excepted, disencumbered themselves of their exterior\nvesture, and stood forward in the character of Roman soldiers.\n\n\u201cFriends,\u201d cried Gallienus, turning to the plebeian multitude, \u201cI am\nnot about to balk you of your sport.\u201d\n\nAt a sign from him the legionaries ascended to the seats allotted to\nthe philosophic portion of the audience, and a torrent of wisdom in\ntheir persons, including that of Leaena, flung forth with the energy of\na catapult, descended abruptly and violently to the earth. They were\ninstantly seized and dragged into an erect attitude by the remainder of\nthe soldiery, who, amid the most tempestuous peals of laughter and\napplause from the delighted public, thrust swords into their hands,\nranged them in opposite ranks, and summoned them to begin the fight and\nquit themselves like men. It was equally ludicrous and pitiable to see\nthe bald, mostly grey-bearded men, their garments torn in their\nexpulsion and their persons bruised by the fall, confronting each other\nwith quaking limbs, helplessly brandishing their weapons or feebly\ncalling their adversaries to come on, while the soldiers prodded them\nfrom behind with spears, and urged them into the close quarters they so\nanxiously desired to avoid. Plotinus, helpless with his bonds and gag,\nlooked on in impotent horror. Gallienus was often cruel, but could he\nintend such a revolting massacre? There must be something behind.\n\nThe honour of developing the Emperor\u2019s purpose was reserved for\nTheocles, who, with admirable presence of mind, had ever since he found\nhe must fight been engaged in trying to select the weakest antagonist.\nAfter hesitating between the unwieldy chief of the Peripatetics and the\nfeminine Leaena he fixed on the latter, partly moved, perhaps, by the\nhope of avenging his beard. With a martial cry he sprang towards her,\nand upraised his weapon for a swashing blow. But he had sadly\nmiscalculated. Leaena was hardly less versed in the combats of Mars\nthan in those of Venus, having, in fact, commenced her distinguished\ncareer as a camp-follower of the Emperor Gordian. A tremendous stroke\ncaught him on the hand; his blade dropped to the earth; why did not the\nfingers follow? Leaena elucidated the problem by a still more violent\nblow on his face; torrents of blood gushed forth indeed, but only from\nthe nose. The sword doubled up; it had neither point nor edge.\nEncouraged by this opportune discovery the philosophers attacked each\nother with infinite spirit and valour. Infuriated by the blows given\nand received, by the pokings and proddings of the military, and the\nhilarious derision of the public, they cast away the shivered blades\nand resorted to the weapons of Nature. They kicked, they cuffed, they\nscratched, they tore the garments from each other\u2019s shoulders, they\nfoamed and rolled gasping in the yellow sand of the arena. At a signal\nfrom the Emperor the portal of the amphitheatre was thrown open, and\nthe whole mass of clawing and cuffing philosophy was bundled\nignominiously into the street.\n\nBy this time Gallienus was seated on his tribunal, and Plotinus,\nreleased from his bonds, was standing by his side.\n\n\u201cO Emperor,\u201d he murmured, deeply abashed, \u201cwhat can I urge? Thou wilt\nsurely demolish my city!\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, Plotinus,\u201d replied Gallienus, pointing to the Goth and the\nChristian, \u201cthere are the men who will destroy the City of\nPhilosophers. Would that were all they will destroy!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE DEMON POPE\n\n\n\u201cSo you won\u2019t sell me your soul?\u201d said the devil.\n\n\u201cThank you,\u201d replied the student, \u201cI had rather keep it myself, if it\u2019s\nall the same to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut it\u2019s not all the same to me. I want it very particularly. Come,\nI\u2019ll be liberal. I said twenty years. You can have thirty.\u201d\n\nThe student shook his head.\n\n\u201cForty!\u201d\n\nAnother shake.\n\n\u201cFifty!\u201d\n\nAs before.\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d said the devil, \u201cI know I\u2019m going to do a foolish thing, but I\ncannot bear to see a clever, spirited young man throw himself away.\nI\u2019ll make you another kind of offer. We won\u2019t have any bargain at\npresent, but I will push you on in the world for the next forty years.\nThis day forty years I come back and ask you for a boon; not your soul,\nmind, or anything not perfectly in your power to grant. If you give it,\nwe are quits; if not, I fly away with you. What say you to this?\u201d\n\nThe student reflected for some minutes. \u201cAgreed,\u201d he said at last.\n\nScarcely had the devil disappeared, which he did instantaneously, ere a\nmessenger reined in his smoking steed at the gate of the University of\nCordova (the judicious reader will already have remarked that Lucifer\ncould never have been allowed inside a Christian seat of learning),\nand, inquiring for the student Gerbert, presented him with the Emperor\nOtho\u2019s nomination to the Abbacy of Bobbio, in consideration, said the\ndocument, of his virtue and learning, well-nigh miraculous in one so\nyoung. Such messengers were frequent visitors during Gerbert\u2019s\nprosperous career. Abbot, bishop, archbishop, cardinal, he was\nultimately enthroned Pope on April 2, 999, and assumed the appellation\nof Silvester the Second. It was then a general belief that the world\nwould come to an end in the following year, a catastrophe which to many\nseemed the more imminent from the election of a chief pastor whose\ncelebrity as a theologian, though not inconsiderable, by no means\nequalled his reputation as a necromancer.\n\nThe world, notwithstanding, revolved scatheless through the dreaded\ntwelvemonth, and early in the first year of the eleventh century\nGerbert was sitting peacefully in his study, perusing a book of magic.\nVolumes of algebra, astrology, alchemy, Aristotelian philosophy, and\nother such light reading filled his bookcase; and on a table stood an\nimproved clock of his invention, next to his introduction of the Arabic\nnumerals his chief legacy to posterity. Suddenly a sound of wings was\nheard, and Lucifer stood by his side.\n\n\u201cIt is a long time,\u201d said the fiend, \u201csince I have had the pleasure of\nseeing you. I have now called to remind you of our little contract,\nconcluded this day forty years.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou remember,\u201d said Silvester, \u201cthat you are not to ask anything\nexceeding my power to perform.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have no such intention,\u201d said Lucifer. \u201cOn the contrary, I am about\nto solicit a favour which can be bestowed by you alone. You are Pope, I\ndesire that you would make me a Cardinal.\n\n\u201cIn the expectation, I presume,\u201d returned Gerbert, \u201cof becoming Pope on\nthe next vacancy.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn expectation,\u201d replied Lucifer, \u201cwhich I may most reasonably\nentertain, considering my enormous wealth, my proficiency in intrigue,\nand the present condition of the Sacred College.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou would doubtless,\u201d said Gerbert, \u201cendeavour to subvert the\nfoundations of the Faith, and, by a course of profligacy and\nlicentiousness, render the Holy See odious and contemptible.\u201d\n\n\u201cOn the contrary,\u201d said the fiend, \u201cI would extirpate heresy, and all\nlearning and knowledge as inevitably tending thereunto. I would suffer\nno man to read but the priest, and confine his reading to his breviary.\nI would burn your books together with your bones on the first\nconvenient opportunity. I would observe an austere propriety of\nconduct, and be especially careful not to loosen one rivet in the\ntremendous yoke I was forging for the minds and consciences of\nmankind.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf it be so,\u201d said Gerbert, \u201clet\u2019s be off!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d exclaimed Lucifer, \u201cyou are willing to accompany me to the\ninfernal regions!\u201d\n\n\u201cAssuredly, rather than be accessory to the burning of Plato and\nAristotle, and give place to the darkness against which I have been\ncontending all my life.\u201d\n\n\u201cGerbert,\u201d replied the demon, \u201cthis is arrant trifling. Know you not\nthat no good man can enter my dominions? that, were such a thing\npossible, my empire would become intolerable to me, and I should be\ncompelled to abdicate?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do know it,\u201d said Gerbert, \u201cand hence I have been able to receive\nyour visit with composure.\u201d\n\n\u201cGerbert,\u201d said the devil, with tears in his eyes, \u201cI put it to you\u2014is\nthis fair, is this honest? I undertake to promote your interests in the\nworld; I fulfil my promise abundantly. You obtain through my\ninstrumentality a position to which you could never otherwise have\naspired. Often have I had a hand in the election of a Pope, but never\nbefore have I contributed to confer the tiara on one eminent for virtue\nand learning. You profit by my assistance to the full, and now take\nadvantage of an adventitious circumstance to deprive me of my\nreasonable guerdon. It is my constant experience that the good people\nare much more slippery than the sinners, and drive much harder\nbargains.\u201d\n\n\u201cLucifer,\u201d answered Gerbert, \u201cI have always sought to treat you as a\ngentleman, hoping that you would approve yourself such in return. I\nwill not inquire whether it was entirely in harmony with this character\nto seek to intimidate me into compliance with your demand by\nthreatening me with a penalty which you well knew could not be\nenforced. I will overlook this little irregularity, and concede even\nmore than you have requested. You have asked to be a Cardinal. I will\nmake you Pope\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cHa!\u201d exclaimed Lucifer, and an internal glow suffused his sooty hide,\nas the light of a fading ember is revived by breathing upon it.\n\n\u201cFor twelve hours,\u201d continued Gerbert. \u201cAt the expiration of that time\nwe will consider the matter further; and if, as I anticipate, you are\nmore anxious to divest yourself of the Papal dignity than you were to\nassume it, I promise to bestow upon you any boon you may ask within my\npower to grant, and not plainly inconsistent with religion or morals.\u201d\n\n\u201cDone!\u201d cried the demon. Gerbert uttered some cabalistic words, and in\na moment the apartment held two Pope Silvesters, entirely\nindistinguishable save by their attire, and the fact that one limped\nslightly with the left foot.\n\n\u201cYou will find the Pontifical apparel in this cupboard,\u201d said Gerbert,\nand, taking his book of magic with him, he retreated through a masked\ndoor to a secret chamber. As the door closed behind him he chuckled,\nand muttered to himself, \u201cPoor old Lucifer! Sold again!\u201d\n\nIf Lucifer was sold he did not seem to know it. He approached a large\nslab of silver which did duty as a mirror, and contemplated his\npersonal appearance with some dissatisfaction.\n\n\u201cI certainly don\u2019t look half so well without my horns,\u201d he\nsoliloquised, \u201cand I am sure I shall miss my tail most grievously.\u201d\n\nA tiara and a train, however, made fair amends for the deficient\nappendages, and Lucifer now looked every inch a Pope. He was about to\ncall the master of the ceremonies, and summon a consistory, when the\ndoor was burst open, and seven cardinals, brandishing poniards, rushed\ninto the room.\n\n\u201cDown with the sorcerer!\u201d they cried, as they seized and gagged him.\n\n\u201cDeath to the Saracen!\u201d\n\n\u201cPractises algebra, and other devilish arts!\u201d\n\n\u201cKnows Greek!\u201d\n\n\u201cTalks Arabic!\u201d\n\n\u201cReads Hebrew!\u201d\n\n\u201cBurn him!\u201d\n\n\u201cSmother him!\u201d\n\n\u201cLet him be deposed by a general council,\u201d said a young and\ninexperienced Cardinal.\n\n\u201cHeaven forbid!\u201d said an old and wary one, _sotto voce_.\n\nLucifer struggled frantically, but the feeble frame he was doomed to\ninhabit for the next eleven hours was speedily exhausted. Bound and\nhelpless, he swooned away.\n\n\u201cBrethren,\u201d said one of the senior cardinals, \u201cit hath been delivered\nby the exorcists that a sorcerer or other individual in league with the\ndemon doth usually bear upon his person some visible token of his\ninfernal compact. I propose that we forthwith institute a search for\nthis stigma, the discovery of which may contribute to justify our\nproceedings in the eyes of the world.\u201d\n\n\u201cI heartily approve of our brother Anno\u2019s proposition,\u201d said another,\n\u201cthe rather as we cannot possibly fail to discover such a mark, if,\nindeed, we desire to find it.\u201d\n\nThe search was accordingly instituted, and had not proceeded far ere a\nsimultaneous yell from all the seven cardinals indicated that their\ninvestigation had brought more to light than they had ventured to\nexpect.\n\nThe Holy Father had a cloven foot!\n\nFor the next five minutes the Cardinals remained utterly stunned,\nsilent, and stupefied with amazement. As they gradually recovered their\nfaculties it would have become manifest to a nice observer that the\nPope had risen very considerably in their good opinion.\n\n\u201cThis is an affair requiring very mature deliberation,\u201d said one.\n\n\u201cI always feared that we might be proceeding too precipitately,\u201d said\nanother.\n\n\u201cIt is written, \u2018the devils believe,\u2019\u201d said a third: \u201cthe Holy Father,\ntherefore, is not a heretic at any rate.\u201d\n\n\u201cBrethren,\u201d said Anno, \u201cthis affair, as our brother Benno well remarks,\ndoth indeed call for mature deliberation. I therefore propose that,\ninstead of smothering his Holiness with cushions, as originally\ncontemplated, we immure him for the present in the dungeon adjoining\nhereunto, and, after spending the night in meditation and prayer,\nresume the consideration of the business tomorrow morning.\u201d\n\n\u201cInforming the officials of the palace,\u201d said Benno, \u201cthat his Holiness\nhas retired for his devotions, and desires on no account to be\ndisturbed.\u201d\n\n\u201cA pious fraud,\u201d said Anno, \u201cwhich not one of the Fathers would for a\nmoment have scrupled to commit.\u201d\n\nThe Cardinals accordingly lifted the still insensible Lucifer, and bore\nhim carefully, almost tenderly, to the apartment appointed for his\ndetention. Each would fain have lingered in hopes of his recovery, but\neach felt that the eyes of his six brethren were upon him: and all,\ntherefore, retired simultaneously, each taking a key of the cell.\n\nLucifer regained consciousness almost immediately afterwards. He had\nthe most confused idea of the circumstances which had involved him in\nhis present scrape, and could only say to himself that if they were the\nusual concomitants of the Papal dignity, these were by no means to his\ntaste, and he wished he had been made acquainted with them sooner. The\ndungeon was not only perfectly dark, but horribly cold, and the poor\ndevil in his present form had no latent store of infernal heat to draw\nupon. His teeth chattered, he shivered in every limb, and felt devoured\nwith hunger and thirst. There is much probability in the assertion of\nsome of his biographers that it was on this occasion that he invented\nardent spirits; but, even if he did, the mere conception of a glass of\nbrandy could only increase his sufferings. So the long January night\nwore wearily on, and Lucifer seemed likely to expire from inanition,\nwhen a key turned in the lock, and Cardinal Anno cautiously glided in,\nbearing a lamp, a loaf, half a cold roast kid, and a bottle of wine.\n\n\u201cI trust,\u201d he said, bowing courteously, \u201cthat I may be excused any\nslight breach of etiquette of which I may render myself culpable from\nthe difficulty under which I labour of determining whether, under\npresent circumstances, \u2018Your Holiness,\u2019 or \u2018Your Infernal Majesty\u2019 be\nthe form of address most befitting me to employ.\u201d\n\n\u201cBub-ub-bub-boo,\u201d went Lucifer, who still had the gag in his mouth.\n\n\u201cHeavens!\u201d exclaimed the Cardinal, \u201cI crave your Infernal Holiness\u2019s\nforgiveness. What a lamentable oversight!\u201d\n\nAnd, relieving Lucifer from his gag and bonds, he set out the\nrefection, upon which the demon fell voraciously.\n\n\u201cWhy the devil, if I may so express myself,\u201d pursued Anno, \u201cdid not\nyour Holiness inform us that you _were_ the devil? Not a hand would\nthen have been raised against you. I have myself been seeking all my\nlife for the audience now happily vouchsafed me. Whence this mistrust\nof your faithful Anno, who has served you so loyally and zealously\nthese many years?\u201d\n\nLucifer pointed significantly to the gag and fetters.\n\n\u201cI shall never forgive myself,\u201d protested the Cardinal, \u201cfor the part I\nhave borne in this unfortunate transaction. Next to ministering to your\nMajesty\u2019s bodily necessities, there is nothing I have so much at heart\nas to express my penitence. But I entreat your Majesty to remember that\nI believed myself to be acting in your Majesty\u2019s interest by\noverthrowing a magician who was accustomed to send your Majesty upon\nerrands, and who might at any time enclose you in a box, and cast you\ninto the sea. It is deplorable that your Majesty\u2019s most devoted\nservants should have been thus misled.\u201d\n\n\u201cReasons of State,\u201d suggested Lucifer.\n\n\u201cI trust that they no longer operate,\u201d said the Cardinal. \u201cHowever, the\nSacred College is now fully possessed of the whole matter: it is\ntherefore unnecessary to pursue this department of the subject further.\nI would now humbly crave leave to confer with your Majesty, or rather,\nperhaps, your Holiness, since I am about to speak of spiritual things,\non the important and delicate point of your Holiness\u2019s successor. I am\nignorant how long your Holiness proposes to occupy the Apostolic chair;\nbut of course you are aware that public opinion will not suffer you to\nhold it for a term exceeding that of the pontificate of Peter. A\nvacancy, therefore, must one day occur; and I am humbly to represent\nthat the office could not be filled by one more congenial than myself\nto the present incumbent, or on whom he could more fully rely to carry\nout in every respect his views and intentions.\u201d\n\nAnd the Cardinal proceeded to detail various circumstances of his past\nlife, which certainly seemed to corroborate his assertion. He had not,\nhowever, proceeded far ere he was disturbed by the grating of another\nkey in the lock, and had just time to whisper impressively, \u201cBeware of\nBenno,\u201d ere he dived under a table.\n\nBenno was also provided with a lamp, wine, and cold viands. Warned by\nthe other lamp and the remains of Lucifer\u2019s repast that some colleague\nhad been beforehand with him, and not knowing how many more might be in\nthe field, he came briefly to the point as regarded the Papacy, and\npreferred his claim in much the same manner as Anno. While he was\nearnestly cautioning Lucifer against this Cardinal as one who could and\nwould cheat the very Devil himself, another key turned in the lock, and\nBenno escaped under the table, where Anno immediately inserted his\nfinger into his right eye. The little squeal consequent upon this\noccurrence Lucifer successfully smothered by a fit of coughing.\n\nCardinal No. 3, a Frenchman, bore a Bayonne ham, and exhibited the same\ndisgust as Benno on seeing himself forestalled. So far as his requests\ntranspired they were moderate, but no one knows where he would have\nstopped if he had not been scared by the advent of Cardinal No. 4. Up\nto this time he had only asked for an inexhaustible purse, power to\ncall up the Devil _ad libitum_, and a ring of invisibility to allow him\nfree access to his mistress, who was unfortunately a married woman.\n\nCardinal No. 4 chiefly wanted to be put into the way of poisoning\nCardinal No. 5; and Cardinal No. 5 preferred the same petition as\nrespected Cardinal No. 4.\n\nCardinal No. 6, an Englishman, demanded the reversion of the\nArchbishoprics of Canterbury and York, with the faculty of holding them\ntogether, and of unlimited non-residence. In the course of his harangue\nhe made use of the phrase _non obstantibus_, of which Lucifer\nimmediately took a note.\n\nWhat the seventh Cardinal would have solicited is not known, for he had\nhardly opened his mouth when the twelfth hour expired, and Lucifer,\nregaining his vigour with his shape, sent the Prince of the Church\nspinning to the other end of the room, and split the marble table with\na single stroke of his tail. The six crouched and huddling Cardinals\ncowered revealed to one another, and at the same time enjoyed the\nspectacle of his Holiness darting through the stone ceiling, which\nyielded like a film to his passage, and closed up afterwards as if\nnothing had happened. After the first shock of dismay they unanimously\nrushed to the door, but found it bolted on the outside. There was no\nother exit, and no means of giving an alarm. In this emergency the\ndemeanour of the Italian Cardinals set a bright example to their\nultramontane colleagues. \u201c_Bisogna pazienzia_,\u201d they said, as they\nshrugged their shoulders. Nothing could exceed the mutual politeness of\nCardinals Anno and Benno, unless that of the two who had sought to\npoison each other. The Frenchman was held to have gravely derogated\nfrom good manners by alluding to this circumstance, which had reached\nhis ears while he was under the table: and the Englishman swore so\noutrageously at the plight in which he found himself that the Italians\nthen and there silently registered a vow that none of his nation should\never be Pope, a maxim which, with one exception, has been observed to\nthis day.\n\nLucifer, meanwhile, had repaired to Silvester, whom he found arrayed in\nall the insignia of his dignity; of which, as he remarked, he thought\nhis visitor had probably had enough.\n\n\u201cI should think so indeed,\u201d replied Lucifer. \u201cBut at the same time I\nfeel myself fully repaid for all I have undergone by the assurance of\nthe loyalty of my friends and admirers, and the conviction that it is\nneedless for me to devote any considerable amount of personal attention\nto ecclesiastical affairs. I now claim the promised boon, which it will\nbe in no way inconsistent with thy functions to grant, seeing that it\nis a work of mercy. I demand that the Cardinals be released, and that\ntheir conspiracy against thee, by which I alone suffered, be buried in\noblivion.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hoped you would carry them all off,\u201d said Gerbert, with an\nexpression of disappointment.\n\n\u201cThank you,\u201d said the Devil. \u201cIt is more to my interest to leave them\nwhere they are.\u201d\n\nSo the dungeon-door was unbolted, and the Cardinals came forth,\nsheepish and crestfallen. If, after all, they did less mischief than\nLucifer had expected from them, the cause was their entire bewilderment\nby what had passed, and their utter inability to penetrate the policy\nof Gerbert, who henceforth devoted himself even with ostentation to\ngood works. They could never quite satisfy themselves whether they were\nspeaking to the Pope or to the Devil, and when under the latter\nimpression habitually emitted propositions which Gerbert justly\nstigmatised as rash, temerarious, and scandalous. They plagued him with\nallusions to certain matters mentioned in their interviews with\nLucifer, with which they naturally but erroneously supposed him to be\nconversant, and worried him by continual nods and titterings as they\nglanced at his nether extremities. To abolish this nuisance, and at the\nsame time silence sundry unpleasant rumours which had somehow got\nabroad, Gerbert devised the ceremony of kissing the Pope\u2019s feet, which,\nin a grievously mutilated form, endures to this day. The stupefaction\nof the Cardinals on discovering that the Holy Father had lost his hoof\nsurpasses all description, and they went to their graves without having\nobtained the least insight into the mystery.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CUPBEARER\n\n\nThe minister Photinius had fallen, to the joy of Constantinople. He had\ntaken sanctuary in the immense monastery adjoining the Golden Gate in\nthe twelfth region of the city, founded for a thousand monks by the\npatrician Studius, in the year 463. There he occupied himself with the\nconcoction of poisons, the resource of fallen statesmen. When a\ndefeated minister of our own day is indisposed to accept his\ndiscomfiture, he applies himself to poison the public mind, inciting\nthe lower orders against the higher, and blowing up every smouldering\nember of sedition he can discover, trusting that the conflagration thus\nkindled, though it consume the edifice of the State, will not fail to\nroast his own egg. Photinius\u2019s conceptions of mischief were less\nrefined; he perfected his toxicological knowledge in the medical\nlaboratory of the monastery, and sought eagerly for an opportunity of\nemploying it; whether in an experiment upon the Emperor, or on his own\nsuccessor, or on some other personage, circumstances must determine.\n\nThe sanctity of Studius\u2019s convent, and the strength of its monastic\ngarrison, rendered it a safe refuge for disgraced courtiers, and in\nthis thirtieth year of the Emperor Basil the Second (reckoning from his\nnominal accession) it harboured a legion of ex-prime ministers,\npatriarchs, archbishops, chief secretaries, hypati, anthypati,\nsilentiarii, protospatharii, and even spatharo-candidati. And this\nsmall army was nothing to the host that, maimed or blinded or tonsured\nor all three, dragged out their lives in monasteries or in dungeons or\non rocky islets; and these again were few in comparison with the\nspirits of the traitors or the betrayed who wailed nightly amid the\nplanes and cypresses of the Aretae, or stalked through the palatial\napartments of verdantique and porphyry. But of those comparatively at\nliberty, but whose liberty was circumscribed by the hallowed precincts\nof Studius, every soul was plotting. And never, perhaps, in the corrupt\nByzantine Court, where true friendship had been unknown since Theodora\nquarrelled with Antonia, had so near an approach to it existed as in\nthis asylum of villains. A sort of freemasonry came to prevail in the\nsanctuary: every one longed to know how his neighbour\u2019s plot throve,\nand grudged not to buy the knowledge by disclosing a little corner of\nhis own. Thus rendered communicative, their colloquies would travel\nback into the past, and as the veterans of intrigue fought their\nbattles over again, the most experienced would learn things that made\nthem open their eyes with amazement. \u201cAh!\u201d they would hear, \u201cthat is\njust where you were mistaken. You had bought Eromenus, but so had I,\nand old Nicephorus had outbid us both.\u201d \u201cYou deemed the dancer Anthusa\na sure card, and knew not of her secret infirmity, of which I had been\napprised by her waiting woman.\u201d \u201cDid you really know nothing of that\nsliding panel? And were you ignorant that whatever one says in the blue\nchamber is heard in the green?\u201d \u201cYes, I thought so too, and I spent a\nmint of money before finding out that the dog whose slaver that brazen\nimpostor Panurgiades pretended to sell me was no more mad than he was.\u201d\nAfter such rehearsals of future dialogues by the banks of Styx, the\nfallen statesmen were observed to appear exceedingly dejected, but the\nstimulus had become necessary to their existence. None gossiped so\nfreely or disclosed so much as Photinius and his predecessor\nEustathius, whom he had himself displaced\u2014probably because Eustathius,\nbelieving in nothing in heaven or earth but gold, and labouring under\nan absolute privation of that metal, was regarded even by himself as an\nextinct volcano.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d observed he one day, when discoursing with Photinius is an\nunusually confidential mood, \u201cI am free to say that for my own part I\ndon\u2019t think over much of poison. It has its advantages, to be sure, but\nto my mind the disadvantages are even more conspicuous.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor example?\u201d inquired Photinius, who had the best reason for\nconfiding in the efficacy of a drug administered with dexterity and\ndiscretion.\n\n\u201cTwo people must be in the secret at least, if not three,\u201d replied\nEustathius, \u201cand cooks, as a rule, are a class of persons entirely\nunfit to be employed in affairs of State.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Court physician,\u201d suggested Photinius.\n\n\u201cIs only available,\u201d answered Eustathius, \u201cin case his Majesty should\nsend for him, which is most improbable. If he ever did, poison, praised\nbe the Lord! would be totally unnecessary and entirely superfluous.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy dear friend,\u201d said Photinius, venturing at this favourable moment\non a question he had been dying to ask ever since he had been an inmate\nof the convent, \u201cwould you mind telling me in confidence, did you ever\nadminister any potion of a deleterious nature to his Sacred Majesty?\u201d\n\n\u201cNever!\u201d protested Eustathius, with fervour. \u201cI tried once, to be sure,\nbut it was no use.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat was the impediment?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe perverse opposition of the cupbearer. It is idle attempting\nanything of the kind as long as she is about the Emperor.\u201d\n\n\u201c_She_!\u201d exclaimed Photinius.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t you know _that_?\u201d responded Eustathius, with an air and manner\nthat plainly said, \u201cYou don\u2019t know much.\u201d\n\nHumbled and ashamed, Photinius nevertheless wisely stooped to avow his\nnescience, and flattering his rival on his superior penetration, led\nhim to divulge the State secret that the handsome cupbearer Helladius\nwas but the disguise of the lovely Helladia, the object of Basil\u2019s\ntenderest affection, and whose romantic attachment to his person had\nalready frustrated more conspiracies than the aged plotter could reckon\nup.\n\nThis intelligence made Photinius for a season exceedingly thoughtful.\nHe had not deemed Basil of an amorous complexion. At length he sent for\nhis daughter, the beautiful and virtuous Euprepia, who from time to\ntime visited him in the monastery.\n\n\u201cDaughter,\u201d he said, \u201cit appears to me that the time has now arrived\nwhen thou mayest with propriety present a petition to the Emperor on\nbehalf of thy unfortunate father. Here is the document. It is, I\nflatter myself, composed with no ordinary address; nevertheless I will\nnot conceal from thee that I place my hopes rather on thy beauty of\nperson than on my beauty of style. Shake down thy hair and dishevel it,\nso!\u2014that is excellent. Remember to tear thy robe some little in the\npoignancy of thy woe, and to lose a sandal. Tears and sobs of course\nthou hast always at command, but let not the frenzy of thy grief render\nthee wholly inarticulate. Here is a slight memorandum of what is most\nfitting for thee to say: thy old nurse\u2019s instructions will do the rest.\nLight a candle for St. Sergius, and watch for a favourable\nopportunity.\u201d\n\nEuprepia was upright, candid, and loyal; but the best of women has\nsomething of the actress in her nature; and her histrionic talent was\nstimulated by her filial affection. Basil was for a moment fairly\ncarried away by the consummate fact of her performance and the genuine\nfeeling to her appeal; but he was himself again by the time he had\nfinished perusing his late minister\u2019s long-winded and mendacious\nmemorial.\n\n\u201cWhat manner of woman was thy mother?\u201d he inquired kindly\n\nEuprepia was eloquent in praise of her deceased parent\u2019s perfections of\nmind and person.\n\n\u201cThen I can believe thee Photinius\u2019s daughter, which I might otherwise\nhave doubted,\u201d returned Basil. \u201cAs concerns him, I can only say, if he\nfeels himself innocent, let him come out of sanctuary, and stand his\ntrial. But I will give thee a place at Court.\u201d\n\nThis was about all that Photinius hoped to obtain, and he joyfully\nconsented to his daughter\u2019s entering the Imperial court, exulting at\nhaving got in the thin end of the wedge. She was attached to the person\nof the Emperor\u2019s sister-in-law, the \u201cSlayer of the Bulgarians\u201d himself\nbeing a most determined bachelor.\n\nTime wore on. Euprepia\u2019s opportunities of visiting her father were less\nfrequent than formerly. At last she came, looking thoroughly miserable,\ndistracted, and forlorn.\n\n\u201cWhat ails thee, child?\u201d he inquired anxiously.\n\n\u201cOh, father, in what a frightful position do I find myself!\u201d\n\n\u201cSpeak,\u201d he said, \u201cand rely on my counsel.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen I entered the Court,\u201d she proceeded, \u201cI found at first but one\nhuman creature I could love or trust, and he\u2014let me so call him\u2014seemed\nto make up for the deficiencies of all the rest. It was the cupbearer\nHelladius.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope he is still thy friend,\u201d interrupted Photinius. \u201cThe good\ngraces of an Imperial cupbearer are always important, and I would have\nbought those of Helladius with a myriad of bezants.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey were not to be thus obtained, father,\u201d said she. \u201cThe purest\ndisinterestedness, the noblest integrity, the most unselfish devotion,\nwere the distinction of my friend. And such beauty! I cannot, I must\nnot conceal that my heart was soon entirely his. But\u2014most strange it\nseemed to me then\u2014it was long impossible for me to tell whether\nHelladius loved me or loved me not. The most perfect sympathy existed\nbetween us: we seemed one heart and one soul: and yet, and yet,\nHelladius never gave the slightest indication of the sentiments which a\nyoung man might be supposed to entertain for a young girl. Vainly did I\ntry every innocent wile that a modest maiden may permit herself: he was\never the friend, never the lover. At length, after long pining between\ndespairing fondness and wounded pride, I myself turned away, and\nlistened to one who left me in no doubt of the sincerity of his\npassion.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Emperor! And, to shorten the story of my shame, I became his\nmistress.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe saints be praised!\u201d shouted Photinius. \u201cO my incomparable\ndaughter!\u201d\n\n\u201cFather!\u201d cried Euprepia, blushing and indignant. \u201cBut let me hurry on\nwith my wretched tale. In proportion as the Emperor\u2019s affection became\nmore marked, Helladius, hitherto so buoyant and serene, became a\nvisible prey to despondency. Some scornful beauty, I deemed, was\ninflicting on him the tortures he had previously inflicted upon me,\nand, cured of my unhappy attachment, and entirely devoted to my\nImperial lover, I did all in my power to encourage him. He received my\ncomfort with gratitude, nor did it, as I had feared might happen, seem\nto excite the least lover-like feeling towards me on his own part.\u201d\n\n\u201cEuprepia,\u201d he said only two days ago, \u201cnever in this Court have I met\none like thee. Thou art the soul of honour and generosity. I can safely\ntrust thee with a secret which my bursting heart can no longer retain,\nbut which I dread to breathe even to myself. Know first I am not what I\nseem, I am a woman!\u201d And opening his vest\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cWe know all about that already,\u201d interrupted Photinius. \u201cGet on!\u201d\n\n\u201cIf thou knowest this already, father,\u201d said the astonished Euprepia,\n\u201cthou wilt spare me the pain of entering further into Helladia\u2019s\naffection for Basil. Suffice that it was impassioned beyond\ndescription, and vied with whatever history or romance records. In her\nmale costume she had accompanied the conqueror of the Bulgarians in his\ncampaigns, she had fought in his battles; a gigantic foe, in act to\nstrike him from behind, had fallen by her arrow; she had warded the\npoison-cup from his lips, and the assassin\u2019s dagger from his heart; she\nhad rejected enormous wealth offered as a bribe for treachery, and\nlived only for the Emperor. \u2018And now,\u2019 she cried, \u2018his love for me is\ncold, and he deserts me for another. Who she is I cannot find, else on\nher it were, not on him, that my vengeance should alight. Oh, Euprepia,\nI would tear her eyes from her head, were they beautiful as thine! But\nvengeance I must have. Basil must die. On the third day he expires by\nmy hand, poisoned by the cup which I alone am trusted to offer him at\nthe Imperial banquet where thou wilt be present. Thou shalt see his\nagonies and my triumph, and rejoice that thy friend has known how to\navenge herself.\u2019\n\n\u201cThou seest now, father, in how frightful a difficulty I am placed. All\nmy entreaties and remonstrances have been in vain: at my threats\nHelladia merely laughs. I love Basil with my whole heart. Shall I look\non and see him murdered? Shall I, having first unwittingly done my\nfriend the most grievous injury, proceed further to betray her, and\ndoom her to a cruel death? I might anticipate her fell purpose by\nslaying her, but for that I have neither strength nor courage. Many a\ntime have I felt on the point of revealing everything to her, and\noffering myself as her victim, but for this also I lack fortitude. I\nmight convey a warning to Basil, but Helladia\u2019s vengeance is\nunsleeping, and nothing but her death or mine will screen him. Oh,\nfather, father! what am I to do?\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing romantic or sentimental, I trust, dear child,\u201d replied\nPhotinius.\n\n\u201cTorture me not, father. I came to thee for counsel.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd counsel shalt thou have, but it must be the issue of mature\ndeliberation. Thou mayest observe,\u201d continued he with the air of a good\nman contending with adversity, \u201chow weak and miserable is man\u2019s estate\neven in the day of good fortune, how hard it is for purblind mortals to\ndiscern the right path, especially when two alluring routes are\nsimultaneously presented for their decision! The most obvious and\nnatural course, the one I should have adopted without hesitation\nhalf-an-hour ago, would be simply to let Helladia alone. Should she\nsucceed\u2014and Heaven forbid else!\u2014the knot is loosed in the simplest\nmanner. Basil dies\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cFather!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am a favourite with his sister-in-law,\u201d continued Photinius,\nentirely unconscious of his daughter\u2019s horror and agitation, \u201cwho will\ngovern in the name of her weak husband, and is moreover thy mistress.\nShe recalls me to Court, and all is peace and joy. But then, Helladia\nmay fail. In that case, when she has been executed\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cFather, father!\u201d\n\n\u201cWe are exactly where we were, save for the hold thou hast established\nover the Emperor, which is of course invaluable. I cannot but feel that\nHeaven is good when I reflect how easily thou mightest have thrown\nthyself away upon a courtier. Now there is a much bolder game to play,\nwhich, relying on the protection of Providence, I feel half disposed to\nattempt. Thou mightest betray Helladia.\u201d\n\n\u201cDeliver my friend to the tormentors!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d pursued Photinius, without hearing her, \u201cthy claim on the\nEmperor\u2019s gratitude is boundless, and if he has any sense of what is\nseemly\u2014and he is what they call chivalrous\u2014he will make thee his lawful\nconsort. I father-in-law of an Emperor! My brain reels to think of it.\nI must be cool. I must not suffer myself to be dazzled or hurried away.\nLet me consider. Thus acting, thou puttest all to the hazard of the\ndie. For if Helladia should deny everything, as of course she would,\nand the Emperor should foolishly scruple to put her to the rack, she\nmight probably persuade him of her innocence, and where wouldst thou be\nthen? It might almost be better to be beforehand, and poison Helladia\nherself, but I fear there is no time now. Thou hast no evidence but her\nthreats, I suppose? Thou hast not caught her tampering with poisons?\nThere can of course be nothing in writing. I daresay I could find\nsomething, if I had but time. Canst thou counterfeit her signature?\u201d\n\nBut long ere this Euprepia, dissolved in tears, her bosom torn by\nconvulsive sobs, had become as inattentive to her parent\u2019s discourse as\nhe had been to her interjections. Photinius at last remarked her\ndistress: he was by no means a bad father.\n\n\u201cPoor child,\u201d he said, \u201cthy nerves are unstrung, and no wonder. It is a\nterrible risk to run. Even if thou saidest nothing, and Helladia under\nthe torture accused thee of having been privy to her design, it might\nhave a bad effect on the Emperor\u2019s mind. If he put thee to the torture\ntoo\u2014but no! that\u2019s impossible. I feel faint and giddy, dear child, and\nunable to decide a point of such importance. Come to me at daybreak\nto-morrow.\u201d\n\nBut Euprepia did not reappear, and Photinius spent the day in an agony\nof expectation, fearing that she had compromised herself by some\nimprudence. He gazed on the setting sun with uncontrollable impatience,\nknowing that it would shine on the Imperial banquet, where so much was\nto happen. Basil was in fact at that very moment seating himself among\na brilliant assemblage. By his side stood a choir of musicians, among\nthem Euprepia. Soon the cup was called for, and Helladia, in her\nmasculine dress, stepped forward, darting a glance of sinister triumph\nat her friend. Silently, almost imperceptibly to the bulk of the\ncompany, Euprepia glided forward, and hissed rather than whispered in\nHelladia\u2019s ear, ere she could retire from the Emperor\u2019s side.\n\n\u201cDidst thou not say that if thou couldst discover her who had wronged\nthee, thou wouldst wreak thy vengeance on her, and molest Basil no\nfurther?\u201d\n\n\u201cI did, and I meant it.\u201d\n\n\u201cSee that thou keepest thy word. I am she!\u201d And snatching the cup from\nthe table, she quaffed it to the last drop, and instantly expired in\nconvulsions.\n\nWe pass over the dismay of the banqueters, the arrest and confession of\nHelladia, the general amazement at the revelation of her sex, the\nfrantic grief of the Emperor.\n\nBasil\u2019s sorrow was sincere and durable. On an early occasion he thus\naddressed his courtiers:\n\n\u201cI cannot determine which of these two women loved me best: she who\ngave her life for me, or she who would have taken mine. The first made\nthe greater sacrifice; the second did most violence to her feelings.\nWhat say ye?\u201d\n\nThe courtiers hesitated, feeling themselves incompetent judges in\nproblems of this nature. At length the youngest exclaimed:\n\n\u201cO Emperor, how can we tell thee, unless we know what thou thinkest\nthyself?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d exclaimed Basil, \u201can honest man in the Court of Byzantium! Let\nhis mouth be filled with gold immediately!\u201d\n\nThis operation having been performed, and the precious metal\ndistributed in fees among the proper officers, Basil thus addressed the\nobject of his favour:\n\n\u201cManuel, thy name shall henceforth be Chrysostomus, in memory of what\nhas just taken place. In further token of my approbation of thy\nhonesty, I will confer upon thee the hand of the only other respectable\nperson about the Court, namely, of Helladia. Take her, my son, and\nraise up a race of heroes! She shall be amply dowered out of what\nremains of the property of Photinius.\u201d\n\n\u201cGennadius,\u201d whispered a cynical courtier to his neighbour, \u201cI hope\nthou admirest the magnanimity of our sovereign, who deems he is\nperforming a most generous action in presenting Manuel with his\ncast-off mistress, who has tried to poison him, and with whom he has\nbeen at his wits\u2019 end what to do, and in dowering her at the expense of\nanother.\u201d\n\nThe snarl was just; but it is just also to acknowledge that Basil, as a\nprince born in the purple, had not the least idea that he was laying\nhimself open to any such criticism. He actually did feel the manly glow\nof self-approbation which accompanies the performance of a good action:\nan emotion which no one else present, except Chrysostomus, was so much\nas able to conceive. It is further to be remarked that the old courtier\nwho sneered at Chrysostomus was devoured by envy of his good fortune,\nand would have given his right eye to have been in his place.\n\n\u201cChrysostomus,\u201d pursued Basil, \u201cwe must now think of the hapless\nPhotinius. That unfortunate father is doubtless in an agony of grief\nwhich renders the forfeiture of the remains of his possessions\nindifferent to him. Thou, his successor therein, mayest be regarded as\nin some sort his son-in-law. Go, therefore, and comfort him, and report\nto me upon his condition.\u201d\n\nChrysostomus accordingly proceeded to the monastery, where he was\ninformed that Photinius had retired with his spiritual adviser, and\ncould on no account be disturbed.\n\n\u201cIt is on my head to see the Emperor\u2019s orders obeyed,\u201d returned\nChrysostomus, and forced the door. The bereaved parent was busily\nengaged in sticking pins into a wax effigy of Basil, under the\ndirection of Panurgiades, already honourably mentioned in this history.\n\n\u201cWretched old man!\u201d exclaimed Chrysostomus, \u201cis this thy grief for thy\ndaughter?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy grief is great,\u201d answered Photinius, \u201cbut my time is small. If I\nturn not every moment to account, I shall never be prime minister\nagain. But all is over now. Thou wilt denounce me, of course. I will\ngive thee a counsel. Say that thou didst arrive just as we were about\nto place the effigy of Basil before a slow fire, and melt it into a\ncaldron of bubbling poison.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall report what I have seen,\u201d replied Chrysostomus, \u201cneither more\nnor less. But I think I can assure thee that none will suffer for this\nmummery except Panurgiades, and that he will at most be whipped.\u201d\n\n\u201cChrysostomus,\u201d said Basil, on receiving the report, \u201clust of power, a\nfever in youth, is a leprosy in age. The hoary statesman out of place\nwould sell his daughter, his country, his soul, to regain it: yea, he\nwould part with his skin and his senses, were it possible to hold\noffice without them. I commiserate Photinius, whose faculties are\nclearly on the decline; the day has been when he would not have wasted\nhis time sticking pins into a waxen figure. I will give him some shadow\nof authority to amuse his old days and keep him out of mischief. The\nAbbot of Catangion is just dead. Photinius shall succeed him.\u201d\n\nSo Photinius received the tonsure and the dignity, and made a very\ntolerable Abbot. It is even recorded to his honour that he bestowed a\nhandsome funeral on his old enemy Eustathius.\n\nHelladia made Chrysostomus an excellent wife, a little over-prudish,\nsome thought. When, nearly two centuries afterwards, the Courts of Love\ncame to be established in Provence, the question at issue between her\nand Euprepia was referred to those tribunals, which, finding the\ndecision difficult, adjourned it for seven hundred years. That period\nhaving now expired, it is submitted to the British public.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WISDOM OF THE INDIANS\n\n\nEverybody knows that in the reign of the Emperor Elagabalus Rome was\nvisited by an embassy from India; whose members, on their way from the\nEast, had held that memorable interview with the illustrious (though\nheretical) Christian philosopher Bardesanes which enabled him to\nformulate his doctrine of Fate, borrowed from the Indian theory of\nKarma, and therefore, until lately, grievously misunderstood by his\ncommentators.\n\nIt may not, however, be equally notorious that the ambassadors returned\nby sea as far as Berytus, and upon landing there were hospitably\nentertained by the sage Euphronius, the head of the philosophical\nfaculty of that University.\n\nEuphronius naturally inquired what circumstance in Rome had appeared to\nhis visitors most worthy of remark.\n\n\u201cThe extreme evil of the Emperor\u2019s Karma,\u201d said they.\n\nEuphronius requested further explanation.\n\n\u201cKarma,\u201d explained their interpreter, \u201cis that congeries of\ncircumstances which has necessitated the birth of each individual, and\nof whose good or evil he is the incarnation. Every act must needs be\nattended by consequences, and as these are usually of too far-reaching\na character to be exhausted in the life of the doer of the action, they\ncannot but engender another person by whom they are to be borne. This\ntruth is popularly expressed by the doctrine of transmigration,\naccording to which individuals, as the character of their deeds may\ndetermine, are re-born as pigs or peacocks, beggars or princes. But\nthis is a loose and unscientific way of speaking, for in fact it is not\nthe individual that is re-born, but the character; which, even as the\nsilkworm clothes itself with silk and the caddis-worm with mud and\nsmall shingle, creates for itself a new personality, congruous with its\nown nature. We are therefore led to reflect what a prodigious multitude\nof sins some one must have committed ere the Roman world could be\nafflicted with such an Emperor as Elagabalus.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat have ye found so exceedingly reprehensible in the Emperor\u2019s\nconduct?\u201d demanded Euphronius.\n\n\u201cTo speak only,\u201d said the Indians, \u201cof such of his doings as may fitly\nbe recited to modest ears, we find him declaring war against Nature,\nand delighting in nothing that is not the contrary of what Heaven meant\nit to be. We see him bathing in perfumes, sailing ships in wine,\nfeeding horses on grapes and lions on parrots, peppering fish with\npearls, wearing gems on the soles of his feet, strewing his floor with\ngold-dust, paving the public streets with precious marbles, driving\nteams of stags, scorning to eat fish by the seaside, deploring his lot\nthat he has never yet been able to dine on a phoenix. Enormous must\nhave been the folly and wickedness which has incarnated itself in such\na sovereign, and should his reign be prolonged, discouraging is the\nprospect for the morals of the next generation.\n\n\u201cAccording to you, then,\u201d said Euphronius, \u201cthe fates of men are not\nspun for them by Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, but by their\npredecessors?\u201d\n\n\u201cSo it is,\u201d said they, \u201calways remembering that man can rid himself of\nhis Karma by philosophic meditation, combined with religious\nausterities, and that if all walked in this path, existence with all\nits evils would come to an end. Insomuch that the most bloodthirsty\nconqueror that ever devastated the earth hath not destroyed one\nthousandth part as many existences as the Lord Buddha.\u201d\n\n\u201cThese are abstruse matters,\u201d said Euphronius, \u201cand I lament that your\nstay in Berytus will not be long enough to instruct me adequately\ntherein.\u201d\n\n\u201cAccompany us to India,\u201d said they, \u201cand thou shalt receive instruction\nat the fountain head.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am old and feeble,\u201d apologised Euphronius, \u201cand adjusted by long\nhabit to my present environment. Nevertheless I will propound the\nenterprise to my pupils, only somewhat repressing their ardour, lest\nthe volunteers should be inconveniently numerous.\u201d\n\nWhen, however, the proposition was made not a soul responded; though\nEuphronius reproached his disciples severely, and desired them to\ncompare their want of spirit with his own thirst for knowledge, which,\nwhen he was a young man, had taken him as far as Alexandria to hear a\ncelebrated rhetorician. In the evening, however, two disciples came to\nhim together, and professed their readiness to undertake the\nexpedition, if promised a reward commensurate with its danger and\ndifficulty.\n\n\u201cYe would learn the secret of my celebrated dilemma,\u201d said he, \u201cwhich\nno sophist can elude? \u2019Tis much; \u2019tis immoderate; \u2019tis enormous;\nnevertheless, bring the wisdom of India to Berytus, and the knowledge\nof the stratagem shall be yours.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, Master,\u201d they said, \u201cit is not thy dilemma of which we are\nenamoured. It is thy daughter.\u201d\n\nA vehement altercation ensued, but at length the old philosopher, who\nat the bottom of his heart was much readier to part with his daughter\nthan his dilemma, was induced to promise her to whichever of the pupils\nshould bring home the most satisfactory exposition of Indian\nmetaphysics: provided always that during their absence he should not\nhave been compelled to bestow her hand as the price of a quibble even\nmore subtle than his own: but this he believed to be impossible.\n\nMnesitheus and Rufus accordingly travelled with the embassy to India,\nand arrived in safety at the metropolis of Palimbothra. They had wisely\ndevoted themselves meanwhile to learning the language, and were now\nable to converse with some fluency.\n\nOn reaching their destination they were placed under the\nsuperintendence of competent instructors, who were commissioned to\ninitiate them into the canon of Buddhist scriptures, comprising, to\nmention only a few of the principal, the Lalitavistara, the Dhammapada,\nthe Kuddhapatha, the Palinokkha, the Uragavagga, the Kulavagga, the\nMahavagga, the Atthakavagga, and the Upasampadakammavaca. These works,\ncomposed in dead languages, and written in strange and unknown\ncharacters, were further provided with commentaries more voluminous and\ninexplicable than the text.\n\n\u201cHeavens,\u201d exclaimed Mnesitheus and Rufus, \u201ccan the life of a man\nsuffice to study all this?\u201d\n\n\u201cAssuredly not,\u201d replied the Indians. \u201cThe diligent student will resume\nhis investigations in a subsequent stage of existence, and, if endowed\nwith eminent faculties, may hope to attain the end he proposes to\nhimself at the fifteenth transmigration.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe end we propose to ourselves,\u201d said the Greeks, \u201cis to marry our\nmaster\u2019s daughter. Will the fair Euphronia also have undergone fifteen\ntransmigrations, and will her charms have continued unimpaired?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is difficult to pronounce,\u201d said they, \u201cfor should the maiden,\nthrough the exercise of virtue, have merited to be born as a white\nelephant, her transmigrations must in the order of nature be but few;\nwhereas should she have unfortunately become and remained a rat, a\nfrog, or other shortlived animal, they cannot but be exceedingly\nnumerous.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe prospect of wedding a frog at the end of fifteen transmigrations,\u201d\nsaid the youths, \u201cdoth not in any respect commend itself to us. Are\nthere no means by which the course of study may be accelerated?\u201d\n\n\u201cUndoubtedly,\u201d said the Indians, \u201cby the practice of religious\nausterities.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf what nature are these?\u201d inquired the young men.\n\n\u201cThe intrepid disciple,\u201d said the sages, \u201cmay chain himself to a tree,\nand gaze upon the sun until he is deprived of the faculty of vision. He\nmay drive an iron bar through his cheeks and tongue, thus preventing\nall misuse of the gift of speech. It is open to him to bury himself in\nthe earth up to his waist, relying for his maintenance on the alms of\npious donors. He may recline upon a couch studded with spikes, until\nfrom the induration of his skin he shall have merited the title of a\nrhinoceros among sages. As, however, these latter practices interfere\nwith locomotion, and thus prevent his close attendance on his spiritual\nguide, it is rather recommended to him to elevate his arms above his\nhead, and retain them in that position until, by the withering of the\nsinews, it is impossible for him to bring them down again.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn that case,\u201d cried Rufus, \u201cfarewell philosophy! farewell Euphronia!\u201d\n\nThere is reason to believe that Mnesitheus would have made exactly the\nsame observation if Rufus had not been beforehand with him. The spirit\nof contradiction and the affectation of superiority, however, led him\nto reproach his rival with pusillanimity, and he went so far that at\nlength he found himself committed to undergo the ordeal: merely\nstipulating that, in consideration of his being a foreigner, he should\nbe permitted to elevate the right arm only.\n\nThe king of the country most graciously came to his assistance by\ncausing him to be fastened to a tree, with his uplifted arm secured by\niron bands above his head, a fan being put in his other hand to protect\nhim against the molestations of gnats and mosquitoes. By this means,\nand with the assistance of the monks who continually recited and\nexpounded the Buddhist scriptures in his ears, some time even before\nhis arm had stiffened for ever, the doctrine of the misery of existence\nhad become perfectly clear to him.\n\nReleased from his captivity, he hastened back to Europe to claim the\nguerdon of his sufferings. History is silent respecting his adventures\nuntil his arrival at Berytus, where the strange wild-looking man with\nthe uplifted arm found himself the centre of a turbulent and\nmischievous rabble. As he seemed about to suffer severe ill-usage, a\npersonage of dignified and portly appearance hastened up, and with his\nstaff showered blows to right and left upon the rioters.\n\n\u201cScoundrels,\u201d he exclaimed, \u201cfinely have ye profited by my precepts,\nthus to misuse an innocent stranger! But I will no longer dwell among\nsuch barbarians. I will remove my school to Tarsus!\u201d\n\nThe mob dispersed. The victim and his deliverer stood face to face.\n\n\u201cMnesitheus!\u201d\n\n\u201cRufus!\u201d\n\n\u201cCall me Rufinianus,\u201d corrected the latter; \u201cfor such is the\nappellation which I have felt it due to myself to assume, since the\nenhancement of my dignity by becoming Euphronius\u2019s successor and\nson-in-law.\u201d\n\n\u201cSon-in-law! Am I to lose the reward of my incredible sufferings?\u201d\n\n\u201cThou forgettest,\u201d said Rufinianus, \u201cthat Euphronia\u2019s hand was not\npromised as the reward of any austerities, but as the meed of the most\nintelligent, that is, the most acceptable, account of the Indian\nphilosophy, which in the opinion of the late eminent Euphronius, has\nbeen delivered by me. But come to my chamber, and let me minister to\nthy necessities.\u201d\n\nThese having been duly attended to, Rufinianus demanded Mnesitheus\u2019s\nhistory, and then proceeded to narrate his own.\n\n\u201cOn my journey homeward,\u201d said he, \u201cI reflected seriously on the\nprobable purpose of our master in sending us forth, and saw reason to\nsuspect that I had hitherto misapprehended it. For I could not remember\nthat he had ever admitted that he could have anything to learn from\nother philosophers, or that he had ever exhibited the least interest in\nphilosophic dogmas, excepting his own. The system of the Indians, I\nthought, must be either inferior to that of Euphronius, or superior. If\nthe former, he will not want it: if the latter, he will want it much\nless. I therefore concluded that our mission was partly a concession to\npublic opinion, partly to enable him to say that his name was known,\nand his teaching proclaimed on the very banks of the Ganges. I formed\nmy plan accordingly, and disregarding certain indications that I was\nneither expected nor wanted, presented myself before Euphronius with a\ngladsome countenance, slightly overcast by sorrow on account of thee,\nwhom I affirmed to have been devoured by a tiger.\n\n\u201c\u2018Well,\u2019 said Euphronius in a disdainful tone, \u2018and what about this\nvaunted wisdom of the Indians?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018The wisdom of the Indians,\u2019 I replied, \u2018is entirely borrowed from\nPythagoras.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Did I not tell you so? \u2018Euphronius appealed to his disciples.\n\n\u201c\u2018Invariably,\u2019 they replied.\n\n\u201c\u2018As if a barbarian could teach a Greek!\u2019 said he.\n\n\u201c\u2018It is much if he is able to learn from one,\u2019 said they.\n\n\u201c\u2018Pythagoras, then,\u2019 said Euphronius addressing me,\u2019 did not resort to\nIndia to be instructed by the Gymnosophists?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018On the contrary,\u2019 I answered, \u2018he went there to teach them, and the\nlittle knowledge of divine matters they possess is entirely derived\nfrom him. His mission is recorded in a barbarous poem called the\nRamayana, wherein he is figuratively represented as allying himself\nwith monkeys. He is worshipped all over the country under the\nappellations of Siva, Kamadeva, Kali, Gautama Buddha, and others too\nnumerous to mention.\u2019\n\n\u201cWhen I further proceeded to explain that a temple had been erected to\nEuphronius himself on the banks of the Ganges, and that a festival,\ncalled Durga Popja, or the Feast of Reason, had been instituted in his\nhonour, his good humour knew no bounds, and he granted me his\ndaughter\u2019s hand without difficulty. He died a few years ago,\nbequeathing me his celebrated dilemma, and I am now head of his school\nand founder of the Rufinianian philosophy. I am also the author of some\nadmired works, especially a life of Pythagoras, and a manual of Indian\nphilosophy and religion. I hope for thy own sake thou wilt forbear to\ncontradict me: for no one will believe thee. I trust also that thou\nwilt speedily overcome thy disappointment with respect to Euphronia. I\ndo most honestly and truthfully assure thee that for a one-armed man\nlike thee to marry her would be most inexpedient, inasmuch as the\ndefence of one\u2019s beard from her, when she is in a state of excitement,\nrequires the full use of both hands, and of the feet also. But come\nwith me to her chamber, and I will present thee to her. She is always\ntaunting me with my inferiority to thee in personal attractions, and I\npromise myself much innocent amusement from her discomfiture when she\nfinds thee as gaunt as a wolf and as black as a cinder. Only, as I have\nrepresented thee to have been devoured by a tiger, thou wilt kindly say\nthat I saved thy life, but concealed the circumstance out of modesty.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have learned in the Indian schools,\u201d said Mnesitheus, \u201cnot to lie\nfor the benefit of others. I will not see Euphronia; I would not\ndisturb her ideal of me, nor mine of her. Farewell. May the Rufinianian\nsect flourish! and may thy works on Pythagoras and India instruct\nposterity to the tenth generation! I return to Palimbothra, where I am\nheld in honour on the self-same account that here renders me\nridiculous. It shall be my study to enlighten the natives respecting\ntheir obligations to Pythagoras, whose name I did not happen to hear\nwhile I abode among them.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE DUMB ORACLE\n\n\nMany the Bacchi that brandish the rod:\nFew that be filled with the fire of the God.\n\nI\n\nIn the days of King Attalus, before oracles had lost their credit, one\nof peculiar reputation, inspired, as was believed, by Apollo, existed\nin the city of Dorylseum, in Phrygia. Contrary to usage, its\nrevelations were imparted through the medium of a male priest. It was\nrarely left unthronged by devout questioners, whose inquiries were\nresolved in writing, agreeably to the method delivered by the pious\nLucian, in his work \u201cConcerning False Prophecy.\u201d [*] Sometimes, on\nextraordinary occasions, a voice, evidently that of the deity, was\nheard declaring the response from the innermost recesses of the shrine.\nThe treasure house of the sanctuary was stored with tripods and\ngoblets, in general wrought from the precious metals; its coffers were\nloaded with coins and ingots; the sacrifices of wealthy suppliants and\nthe copious offerings in kind of the country people provided\nsuperabundantly for the daily maintenance of the temple servitors;\nwhile a rich endowment in land maintained the dignity of its guardians,\nand of the officiating priest. The latter reverend personage was no\nless eminent for prudence than for piety; on which account the Gods had\nrewarded him with extreme obesity. At length he died, whether of excess\nin meat or in drink is not agreed among historians.\n\n*) _Pseudomantis_, cap. 19-21.\n\n\nThe guardians of the temple met to choose a successor, and, naturally\ndesirous that the sanctity of the oracle should suffer no abatement,\nelected a young priest of goodly presence and ascetic life; the\nhumblest, purest, most fervent, and most ingenuous of the sons of men.\nSo rare a choice might well be expected to be accompanied by some\nextraordinary manifestation, and, in fact, a prodigy took place which\nfilled the sacred authorities with dismay. The responses of the oracle\nceased suddenly and altogether. No revelation was vouchsafed to the\npontiff in his slumbers; no access of prophetic fury constrained him to\ndisclose the secrets of the future; no voice rang from the shrine; and\nthe unanswered epistles of the suppliants lay a hopeless encumbrance on\nthe great altar. As a natural consequence they speedily ceased to\narrive; the influx of offerings into the treasury terminated along with\nthem; the temple-courts were bare of worshippers; and the only victims\nwhose blood smoked within them were those slain by the priest himself,\nin the hope of appeasing the displeasure of Apollo. The modest\nhierophant took all the blame upon his own shoulders; he did not doubt\nthat he had excited the Deity\u2019s wrath by some mysterious but heinous\npollution; and was confirmed in this opinion by the unanimous verdict\nof all whom he approached.\n\nOne day as he sat sadly in the temple, absorbed in painful meditation,\nand pondering how he might best relieve himself of his sacred\nfunctions, he was startled by the now unwonted sound of a footstep,\nand, looking up, espied an ancient woman. Her appearance was rather\nvenerable than prepossessing. He recognised her as one of the inferior\nministers of the temple.\n\n\u201cReverend mother,\u201d he addressed her, \u201cdoubtless thou comest to mingle\nwith mine thy supplications to the Deity, that it may please him to\nindicate the cause, and the remedy of his wrath.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, son,\u201d returned the venerable personage, \u201cI propose to occasion no\nsuch needless trouble to Apollo, or any other Divinity. I hold within\nmine own hand the power of reviving the splendour of this forsaken\nsanctuary, and for such consideration as thou wilt thyself pronounce\nequitable, I am minded to impart the same unto thee.\u201d And as the\nastonished priest made no answer, she continued:\n\n\u201cMy price is one hundred pieces of gold.\u201d\n\n\u201cWretch!\u201d exclaimed the priest indignantly, \u201cthy mercenary demand alone\nproves the vanity of thy pretence of being initiated into the secrets\nof the Gods. Depart my presence this moment!\u201d\n\nThe old woman retired without a syllable of remonstrance, and the\nincident soon passed from the mind of the afflicted priest. But on the\nfollowing day, at the same hour, the aged woman again stood before him,\nand said:\n\n\u201cMy price is _two_ hundred pieces of gold.\u201d\n\nAgain she was commanded to depart, and again obeyed without a murmur.\nBut the adventure now occasioned the priest much serious reflection. To\nhis excited fancy, the patient persistency of the crone began to assume\nsomething of a supernatural character. He considered that the ways of\nthe Gods are not as our ways, and that it is rather the rule than the\nexception with them to accomplish their designs in the most circuitous\nmanner, and by the most unlikely instruments. He also reflected upon\nthe history of the Sibyl and her books, and shuddered to think that\nunseasonable obstinacy might in the end cost the temple the whole of\nits revenues. The result of his cogitations was a resolution, if the\nold woman should present herself on the following day, to receive her\nin a different manner.\n\nPunctual to the hour she made her appearance, and croaked out, \u201cMy\nprice is _three_ hundred pieces of gold.\u201d\n\n\u201cVenerable ambassadress of Heaven,\u201d said the priest, \u201cthy boon is\ngranted thee. Relieve the anguish of my bosom as speedily as thou\nmayest.\u201d\n\nThe old woman\u2019s reply was brief and expressive. It consisted in\nextending her open and hollow palm, into which the priest counted the\nthree hundred pieces of gold with as much expedition as was compatible\nwith the frequent interruptions necessitated by the crone\u2019s depositing\neach successive handful in a leather pouch; and the scrutiny, divided\nbetween jealousy and affection, which she bestowed on each individual\ncoin.\n\n\u201cAnd now,\u201d said the priest, when the operation was at length completed,\n\u201cfulfil thy share of the compact.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe cause of the oracle\u2019s silence,\u201d returned the old woman, \u201cis the\nunworthiness of the minister.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas! \u2019tis even as I feared,\u201d sighed the priest. \u201cDeclare now, wherein\nconsists my sin?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt consists in this,\u201d replied the old woman, \u201cthat the beard of thy\nunderstanding is not yet grown; and that the egg-shell of thy\ninexperience is still sticking to the head of thy simplicity; and that\nthy brains bear no adequate proportion to the skull enveloping them;\nand in fine, lest I seem to speak overmuch in parables, or to employ a\nsuperfluity of epithets, that thou art an egregious nincompoop.\u201d\n\nAnd as the amazed priest preserved silence, she pursued:\n\n\u201cCan aught be more shameful in a religious man than ignorance of the\nvery nature of religion? Not to know that the term, being rendered into\nthe language of truth, doth therein signify deception practised by the\nfew wise upon the many foolish, for the benefit of both, but more\nparticularly the former? O silly as the crowds who hitherto have\nbrought their folly here, but now carry it elsewhere to the profit of\nwiser men than thou! O fool! to deem that oracles were rendered by\nApollo! How should this be, seeing that there is no such person? Needs\nthere, peradventure, any greater miracle for the decipherment of these\nepistles than a hot needle? [*] As for the supernatural voice, it doth\nin truth proceed from a respectable, and in some sense a sacred\npersonage, being mine own when I am concealed within a certain recess\nprepared for me by thy lamented predecessor, whose mistress I was in\nyouth, and whose coadjutor I have been in age. I am now ready to\nminister to thee in the latter capacity. Be ruled by me; exchange thy\nabject superstition for common sense; thy childish simplicity for\ndiscreet policy; thy unbecoming spareness for a majestic portliness;\nthy present ridiculous and uncomfortable situation for the repute of\nsanctity, and the veneration of men. Thou wilt own that this is cheap\nat three hundred pieces.\u201d\n\n*) Lucian.\n\n\nThe young priest had hearkened to the crone\u2019s discourse with an\nexpression of the most exquisite distress. When she had finished, he\narose, and disregarding his repulsive companion\u2019s efforts to detain\nhim, departed hastily from the temple.\n\nII\n\nIt was the young priest\u2019s purpose, as soon as he became capable of\nforming one, to place the greatest possible distance between himself\nand the city of Doryl\u00e6um. The love of roaming insensibly grew upon him,\nand ere long his active limbs had borne him over a considerable portion\nof Asia. His simple wants were easily supplied by the wild productions\nof the country, supplemented when needful by the proceeds of light\nmanual labour. By degrees the self-contempt which had originally stung\nhim to desperation took the form of an ironical compassion for the\nfolly of mankind, and the restlessness which had at first impelled him\nto seek relief in a change of scene gave place to a spirit of curiosity\nand observation. He learned to mix freely with all orders of men, save\none, and rejoiced to find the narrow mysticism which he had imbibed\nfrom his previous education gradually yielding to contact with the\ngreat world. From one class of men, indeed, he learned nothing\u2014the\npriests, whose society he eschewed with scrupulous vigilance, nor did\nhe ever enter the temples of the Gods. Diviners, augurs, all that made\nany pretension whatever to a supernatural character, he held in utter\nabhorrence, and his ultimate return in the direction of his native\ncountry is attributed to his inability to persevere further in the path\nhe was following without danger of encountering Chaldean soothsayers,\nor Persian magi, or Indian gymnosophists.\n\nHe cherished, however, no intention of returning to Phrygia, and was\nstill at a considerable distance from that region, when one night, as\nhe was sitting in the inn of a small country town, his ear caught a\nphrase which arrested his attention.\n\n\u201cAs true as the oracle of Doryl\u00e6um.\u201d The speaker was a countryman, who\nappeared to have been asseverating something regarded by the rest of\nthe company as greatly in need of confirmation. The sudden start and\nstifled cry of the ex-priest drew all eyes to him, and he felt\nconstrained to ask, with the most indifferent air he could assume:\n\n\u201cIs the oracle of Doryl\u00e6um, then, so exceedingly renowned for\nveracity?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhence comest thou to be ignorant of that?\u201d demanded the countryman,\nwith some disdain. \u201cHast thou never heard of the priest Eubulides?\u201d\n\n\u201cEubulides!\u201d exclaimed the young traveller, \u201cthat is my own name!\u201d\n\n\u201cThou mayest well rejoice, then,\u201d observed another of the guests, \u201cto\nbear the name of one so holy and pure, and so eminently favoured by the\nhappy Gods. So handsome and dignified, moreover, as I may well assert\nwho have often beheld him discharging his sacred functions. And truly,\nnow that I scan thee more closely, the resemblance is marvellous. Only\nthat thy namesake bears with him a certain air of divinity, not equally\nconspicuous in thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cDivinity!\u201d exclaimed another. \u201cAye, if Ph\u0153bus himself ministered at\nhis own shrine, he could wear no more majestic semblance than\nEubulides.\u201d\n\n\u201cOr predict the future more accurately,\u201d added a priest.\n\n\u201cOr deliver his oracles in more exquisite verse,\u201d subjoined a poet.\n\n\u201cYet is it not marvellous,\u201d remarked another speaker, \u201cthat for some\nconsiderable time after his installation the good Eubulides was unable\nto deliver a single oracle?\u201d\n\n\u201cAye, and that the first he rendered should have foretold the death of\nan aged woman, one of the ministers of the temple.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa!\u201d exclaimed Eubulides, \u201chow was that?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe prognosticated her decease on the following day, which accordingly\ncame to pass, from her being choked with a piece of gold, not lawfully\nappertaining to herself, which she was endeavouring to conceal under\nthe root of her tongue.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Gods be praised for that!\u201d ejaculated Eubulides, under his breath.\n\u201cPshaw! as if there were Gods! If they existed, would they tolerate\nthis vile mockery? To keep up the juggle\u2014well, I know it must be so;\nbut to purloin my name! to counterfeit my person! By all the Gods that\nare not, I will expose the cheat, or perish in the endeavour.\u201d\n\nHe arose early on the following morning and took his way towards the\ncity of Doryl\u00e6um. The further he progressed in this direction, the\nlouder became the bruit of the oracle of Apollo, and the more emphatic\nthe testimonies to the piety, prophetic endowments, and personal\nattractions of the priest Eubulides; his own resemblance to whom was\nthe theme of continual remark. On approaching the city, he found the\nroads swarming with throngs hastening to the temple, about to take part\nin a great religious ceremony to be held therein. The seriousness of\nworship blended delightfully with the glee of the festival, and\nEubulides, who at first regarded the gathering with bitter scorn, found\nhis moroseness insensibly yielding to the poetic charm of the scene. He\ncould not but acknowledge that the imposture he panted to expose was at\nleast the source of much innocent happiness, and almost wished that the\nimportance of religion, considered as an engine of policy, had been\noffered to his contemplation from this point of view, instead of the\nsordid and revolting aspect in which it had been exhibited by the old\nwoman.\n\nIn this ambiguous frame of mind he entered the temple. Before the high\naltar stood the officiating priest, a young man, the image, yet not the\nimage, of himself. Lineament for lineament, the resemblance was exact,\nbut over the stranger\u2019s whole figure was diffused an air of majesty, of\nabsolute serenity and infinite superiority, which excluded every idea\nof deceit, and so awed the young priest that his purpose of rushing\nforward to denounce the impostor and drag him from the shrine was\nimmediately and involuntarily relinquished. As he stood confounded and\nirresolute, the melodious voice of the hierophant rang through the\ntemple:\n\n\u201cLet the priest Eubulides stand forth.\u201d\n\nThis summons naturally caused the greatest astonishment in every one\nbut Eubulides, who emerged as swiftly as he could from the swaying and\nmurmuring crowd, and confronted his namesake at the altar. A cry of\namazement broke from the multitude as they beheld the pair, whose main\ndistinction in the eyes of most was their garb. But, as they gazed, the\nform of the officiating priest assumed colossal proportions; a circle\nof beams, dimming sunlight, broke forth around his head; hyacinthine\nlocks clustered on his shoulders, his eyes sparkled with supernatural\nradiance; a quiver depended at his back; an unstrung bow occupied his\nhand; the majesty and benignity of his presence alike seemed augmented\ntenfold. Eubulides and the crowd sank simultaneously on their knees,\nfor all recognised Apollo.\n\nAll was silence for a space. It was at length broken by Ph\u0153bus.\n\n\u201cWell, Eubulides,\u201d inquired he, with the bland raillery of an Immortal,\n\u201chas it at length occurred to thee that I may have been long enough\naway from Parnassus, filling thy place here while thou hast been\ndisporting thyself amid heretics and barbarians?\u201d\n\nThe abashed Eubulides made no response. The Deity continued:\n\n\u201cDeem not that thou hast in aught excited the displeasure of the Gods.\nIn deserting their altars for Truth\u2019s sake, thou didst render them the\nmost acceptable of sacrifices, the only one, it may be, by which they\nset much store. But, Eubulides, take heed how thou again sufferest the\nunworthiness of men to overcome the instincts of thine own nature. Thy\nholiest sentiments should not have been at the mercy of a knave. If the\noracle of Doryl\u00e6um was an imposture, hadst thou no oracle in thine own\nbosom? If the voice of Religion was no longer breathed from the tripod,\nwere the winds and waters silent, or had aught quenched the everlasting\nstars? If there was no power to impose its mandates from without,\ncouldst thou be unconscious of a power within? If thou hadst nothing to\nreveal unto men, mightest thou not have found somewhat to propound unto\nthem? Know this, that thou hast never experienced a more truly\nreligious emotion than that which led thee to form the design of\noverthrowing this my temple, the abode, as thou didst deem it, of fraud\nand superstition.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut now, Ph\u0153bus,\u201d Eubulides ventured to reply, \u201cshall I not return to\nthe shrine purified by thy presence, and again officiate as thy\nunworthy minister?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, Eubulides,\u201d returned Ph\u0153bus, with a smile; \u201csilver is good, but\nnot for ploughshares. Thy strange experience, thy long wanderings, thy\nlonely meditations, and varied intercourse with men, have spoiled thee\nfor a priest, while, as I would fain hope, qualifying thee for a sage.\nSome worthy person may easily be found to preside over this temple; and\nby the aid of such inspiration as I may from time to time see meet to\nvouchsafe him, administer its affairs indifferently well. Do thou,\nEubulides, consecrate thy powers to a more august service than\nApollo\u2019s, to one that shall endure when Delphi and Delos know _his_ no\nmore.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo whose service, Ph\u0153bus?\u201d inquired Eubulides.\n\n\u201cTo the service of Humanity, my son,\u201d responded Apollo.\n\n\n\n\nDUKE VIRGIL\n\nI\n\nThe citizens of Mantua were weary of revolutions. They had acknowledged\nthe suzerainty of the Emperor Frederick and shaken it off. They had had\na Podest\u00e0 of their own and had shaken him off. They had expelled a\nPapal Legate, incurring excommunication thereby. They had tried\ndictators, consuls, pr\u00e6tors, councils of ten, and other numbers odd and\neven, and ere the middle of the thirteenth century were luxuriating in\nthe enjoyment of perfect anarchy.\n\nAn assembly met daily in quest of a remedy, but its members were\nforbidden to propose anything old, and were unable to invent anything\nnew.\n\n\u201cWhy not consult Manto, the alchemist\u2019s daughter, our prophetess, our\nSibyl?\u201d the young Benedetto asked at last.\n\n\u201cWhy not?\u201d repeated Eustachio, an elderly man.\n\n\u201cWhy not, indeed?\u201d interrogated Leonardo, a man of mature years.\n\nAll the speakers were noble. Benedetto was Manto\u2019s lover; Eustachio her\nfather\u2019s friend; Leonardo his creditor. Their advice prevailed, and the\nthree were chosen as a deputation to wait on the prophetess. Before\nproceeding formally on their embassy the three envoys managed to obtain\nprivate interviews, the two elder with Manto\u2019s father, the youth with\nManto herself. The creditor promised that if he became Duke by the\nalchemist\u2019s influence with his daughter he would forgive the debt; the\nfriend went further, and vowed that he would pay it. The old man\npromised his good word to both, but when he went to confer with his\ndaughter he found her closeted with Benedetto, and returned without\ndisburdening himself of his errand. The youth had just risen from his\nknees, pleading with her, and drawing glowing pictures of their\nfelicity when he should be Duke and she Duchess.\n\nShe answered, \u201cBenedetto, in all Mantua there is not one man fit to\nrule another. To name any living person would be to set a tyrant over\nmy native city. I will repair to the shades and seek a ruler among the\ndead.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd why should not Mantua have a tyrant?\u201d demanded Benedetto. \u201cThe\nfreedom of the mechanic is the bondage of the noble, who values no\nliberty save that of making the base-born do his bidding. \u2019Tis hell to\na man of spirit to be contradicted by his tailor. If I could see my\nheart\u2019s desire on the knaves, little would I reck submitting to the\nsway of the Emperor.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know that well, Benedetto,\u201d said Manto, \u201cand hence will take good\nheed not to counsel Mantua to choose thee. No, the Duke I will give her\nshall be one without passions to gratify or injuries to avenge, and\nshall already be crowned with a crown to make the ducal cap as nothing\nin his eyes, if eyes he had.\u201d\n\nBenedetto departed in hot displeasure, and the alchemist came forward\nto announce that the commissioners waited.\n\n\u201cMy projection,\u201d he whispered, \u201conly wants one more piece of gold to\ninsure success, and Eustachio proffers thirty. Oh, give him Mantua in\nexchange for boundless riches!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd they call thee a philosopher and me a visionary!\u201d said Manto,\npatting his cheek.\n\nThe envoys\u2019 commission having been unfolded, she took not a moment to\nreply, \u201cBe your Duke Virgil.\u201d\n\nThe deputation respectfully represented that although Virgil was no\ndoubt Mantua\u2019s greatest citizen, he laboured under the disqualification\nof having been dead more than twelve hundred years. Nothing further,\nhowever, could be extorted from the prophetess, and the ambassadors\nwere obliged to withdraw.\n\nThe interpretation of Manto\u2019s oracle naturally provoked much diversity\nof opinion in the council.\n\n\u201cObviously,\u201d said a poet, \u201cthe prophetess would have us confer the\nducal dignity upon the contemporary bard who doth most nearly accede to\nthe vestiges of the divine Maro; and he, as I judge, is even now in the\nmidst of you.\u201d\n\n\u201cVirgil the poet,\u201d said a priest, who had long laboured under the\nsuspicion of occult practices, \u201cwas a fool to Virgil the enchanter. The\nwise woman evidently demands one competent to put the devil into a\nhole\u2014an operation which I have striven to perform all my life.\u201d\n\n\u201cCanst thou balance our city upon an egg?\u201d inquired Eustachio.\n\n\u201cBetter upon an egg than upon a quack!\u201d retorted the priest.\n\nBut such was not the opinion of Eustachio himself, who privately\nconferred with Leonardo. Eustachio had a character, but no parts;\nLeonardo had parts, but no character.\n\n\u201cI see not why these fools should deride the oracle of the prophetess,\u201d\nhe said. \u201cShe would doubtless impress upon us that a dead master is in\ndivers respects preferable to a living one.\u201d\n\n\u201cSurely,\u201d said Eustachio, \u201cprovided always that the servant is a man of\nexemplary character, and that he presumes not upon his lord\u2019s\nwithdrawal to another sphere, trusting thereby to commit malpractices\nwith impunity, but doth, on the contrary, deport himself as ever in his\ngreat taskmaster\u2019s eye.\u201d\n\n\u201cEustachio,\u201d said Leonardo, with admiration, \u201cit is the misery of\nMantua that she hath no citizen who can act half as well as thou canst\ntalk. I would fain have further discourse with thee.\u201d\n\nThe two statesmen laid their heads together, and ere long the mob were\ncrying, \u201cA Virgil! a Virgil!\u201d\n\nThe councillors reassembled and passed resolutions.\n\n\u201cBut who shall be Regent?\u201d inquired some one when Virgil had been\nelected unanimously.\n\n\u201cWho but we?\u201d asked Eustachio and Leonardo. \u201cAre we not the heads of\nthe Virgilian party?\u201d\n\nThus had the enthusiastic Manto, purest of idealists, installed in\nauthority the two most unprincipled politicians in the republic; and\nshe had lost her lover besides, for Benedetto fled the city, vowing\nvengeance.\n\nAnyhow, the dead poet was enthroned Duke of Mantua; Eustachio and\nLeonardo became Regents, with the style of Consuls, and it was provided\nthat in doubtful cases reference should be made to the Sortes\nVirgilianae. And truly, if we may believe the chronicles, the\narrangement worked for a time surprisingly well. The Mantuans, in an\nirrational way, had done what it behoves all communities to do\nrationally if they can. They had sought for a good and worthy citizen\nto rule them; it was their misfortune that such an one could only be\nfound among the dead. They felt prouder of themselves for being\ngoverned by a great man\u2014one in comparison with whom kings and pontiffs\nwere the creatures of a day. They would not, if they could help it,\ndisgrace themselves by disgracing their hero; they would not have it\nsaid that Mantua, which had not been too weak to bear him, had been too\nweak to endure his government. The very hucksters and usurers among\nthem felt dimly that there was such a thing as an Ideal. A glimmering\nperception dawned upon mailed, steel-fisted barons that there was such\na thing as an Idea, and they felt uneasily apprehensive, like beasts of\nprey who have for the first time sniffed gunpowder. The railleries and\nmockeries of Mantua\u2019s neighbours, moreover, stimulated Mantua\u2019s\ncitizens to persevere in their course, and deterred them from doing\naught to approve themselves fools. Were not Verona, Cremona, Lodi,\nPavia, Crema, cities that could never enthrone the Virgil they had\nnever produced, watching with undissembled expectation to see them\ntrip? The hollow-hearted Eustachio and the rapacious Leonardo, their\nvirtual rulers, might indeed be little sensible to this enthusiasm, but\nthey could not disregard the general drift of public opinion, which\nsaid clearly: \u201cMantua is trying a great experiment. Woe to you if you\nbring it to nought by your selfish quarrels!\u201d\n\nThe best proof that there was something in Manto\u2019s idea was that after\na while the Emperor Frederick took alarm, and signified to the Mantuans\nthat they must cease their mumming and fooling and acknowledge him as\ntheir sovereign, failing which he would besiege their city.\n\nII\n\nMantua was girt by a zone of fire and steel. Her villas and homesteads\nflamed or smoked; her orchards flared heavenward in a torrent of sparks\nor stood black sapless trunks charred to their inmost pith; the promise\nof her harvests lay as grey ashes over the land. But her ramparts,\nthough breached in places, were yet manned by her sons, and their\nassailants recoiled pierced by the shafts or stunned by the catapults\nof the defence. Kaiser Frederick sat in his tent, giving secret\naudience to one who had stolen in disguise over from the city in the\ngrey of the morning. By the Emperor\u2019s side stood a tall martial figure,\nwearing a visor which he never removed.\n\n\u201cYour Majesty,\u201d Leonardo was saying, for it was he, \u201cthis madness will\nsoon pass away. The people will weary of sacrificing themselves for a\ndead heathen.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd Liberty?\u201d asked the Emperor, \u201cis not that a name dear to those\nmisguided creatures?\u201d\n\n\u201cSo dear, please your Majesty, that if they have but the name they will\nperfectly dispense with the thing. I do not advise that your imperial\nyoke should be too palpably adjusted to their stiff necks. Leave them\nin appearance the choice of their magistrate, but insure its falling\nupon one of approved fidelity, certain to execute obsequiously all your\nMajesty\u2019s mandates; such an one, in short, as your faithful vassal\nLeonardo. It would only be necessary to decapitate that dangerous\nrevolutionist, Eustachio.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd the citizens are really ready for this?\u201d\n\n\u201cAll the respectable citizens. All of whom your Majesty need take\naccount. All men of standing and substance.\u201d\n\n\u201cI rejoice to hear it,\u201d said the Emperor, \u201cand do the more readily\ncredit thee inasmuch as a most virtuous and honourable citizen hath\nalready been beforehand with thee, assuring me of the same thing, and\naffirming that but one traitor, whose name, methinks, sounded like\nthine, stands between me and the subjugation of Mantua.\u201d\n\nAnd, withdrawing a curtain, he disclosed the figure of Eustachio.\n\n\u201cI thought he was asleep,\u201d muttered Eustachio.\n\n\u201cThat noodle to have been beforehand with me!\u201d murmured Leonardo.\n\n\u201cWhat perplexes me,\u201d continued Frederick, after enjoying the confusion\nof the pair for a few moments, \u201cis that our masked friend here will\nhave it that he is the man for the Dukedom, and offers to open the\ngates to me by a method of his own.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy fair fighting, an\u2019 please my liege,\u201d observed the visored\npersonage, \u201cnot by these dastardly treacheries.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow inhuman!\u201d sighed Eustachio.\n\n\u201cHow old-fashioned!\u201d sneered Leonardo.\n\n\u201cThe truth is,\u201d continued Frederick, \u201che gravely doubts whether either\nof you possesses the influence which you allege, and has devised a\nmethod of putting this to the proof, which I trust will commend itself\nto you.\u201d\n\nLeonardo and Eustachio expressed their readiness to submit their credit\nwith their fellow-citizens to any reasonable trial.\n\n\u201cHe proposes, then,\u201d pursued the Emperor, \u201cthat ye, disarmed and bound,\nshould be placed at the head of the storming column, and in that\nsituation should, as questionless ye would, exert your entire moral\ninfluence with your fellow-citizens to dissuade them from shooting you.\nIf the column, thus shielded, enters the city without resistance, ye\nwill both have earned the Dukedom, and the question who shall have it\nmay be decided by single combat between yourselves. But should the\npeople, rather than submit to our clemency, impiously slay their\nelected magistrates, it will be apparent that the methods of our\nmartial friend are the only ones corresponding to the exigency of the\ncase. Is the storming column ready?\u201d\n\n\u201cAll but the first file, please your Majesty,\u201d responded the man in the\nvisor.\n\n\u201cLet it be equipped,\u201d returned Frederick, and in half-an-hour Eustachio\nand Leonardo, their hands tied behind them, were stumbling up the\nbreach, impelled by pikes in the rear, and confronting the catapults,\n_chevaux de frise_, hidden pitfalls, Greek fire, and boiling water\nprovided by their own direction, and certified to them the preceding\nevening as all that could be desired. They had, however, the full use\nof their voices, and this they turned to the best account. Never had\nLeonardo been so cogent, or Eustachio so pathetic. The Mantuans,\nalready disorganised by the unaccountable disappearance of the\nExecutive, were entirely irresolute what to do. As they hesitated the\nvisored chief incited his followers. All seemed lost, when a tall\nfemale figure appeared among the defenders. It was Manto.\n\n\u201cFools and cowards!\u201d she exclaimed, \u201cmust ye learn your duty from a\nwoman?\u201d\n\nAnd, seizing a catapult, she discharged a stone which laid the masked\nwarrior stunned and senseless on the ground. The next instant Eustachio\nand Leonardo fell dead, pierced by showers of arrows. The Mantuans\nsallied forth. The dismayed Imperialists fled to their camp. The bodies\nof the fallen magistrates and of the unconscious chieftain in the mask\nwere brought into the city. Manto herself undid the fallen man\u2019s visor,\nand uttered a fearful shriek as she recognised Benedetto.\n\n\u201cWhat shall be done with him, mistress?\u201d they asked.\n\nManto long stood silent, torn by conflicting emotions. At length she\nsaid, in a strange, unnatural voice:\n\n\u201cPut him into the Square Tower.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd now, mistress, what further? How to choose the new consuls?\u201d\n\n\u201cAsk me no more,\u201d she said. \u201cI shall never prophesy again. Virtue has\ngone away from me.\u201d\n\nThe leaders departed, to intrigue for the vacant posts, and devise\ntortures for Benedetto. Manto sat on the rampart, still and silent as\nits stones. Anon she rose, and roved about as if distraught, reciting\nverses from Virgil.\n\nNight had fallen. Benedetto lay wakeful in his cell. A female figure\nstood before him bearing a lamp. It was Manto.\n\n\u201cBenedetto,\u201d she said, \u201cI am a wretch, faithless to my country and to\nmy master. I did but even now open his sacred volume at hazard, and on\nwhat did my eye first fall?\n  Trojaque nunc stares, Priamique arx alta maneres. But I can no other.\n  I am a woman. May Mantua never entrust her fortunes to the like of me\n  again! Come with me, I will release thee.\u201d\n\nShe unlocked his chains; she guided him through the secret passage\nunder the moat; they stood at the exit, in the open air.\n\n\u201cFly,\u201d she said, \u201cand never again draw sword against thy mother. I will\nreturn to my house, and do that to myself which it behoved me to have\ndone ere I released thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cManto,\u201d exclaimed Benedetto \u201ca truce to this folly! Forsake thy dead\nDuke, and that cheat of Liberty more crazy and fantastic still. Wed a\nliving Duke in me!\u201d\n\n\u201cNever!\u201d exclaimed Manto. \u201cI love thee more than any man living on\nearth, and I would not espouse thee if the earth held no other.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou canst not help thyself,\u201d he rejoined; \u201cthou hast revealed to me\nthe secret of this passage. I hasten to the camp. I return in an hour\nwith an army, and wilt thou, wilt thou not, to-morrow\u2019s sun shall\nbehold thee the partner of my throne!\u201d\n\nManto wore a poniard. She struck Benedetto to the heart, and he fell\ndead. She drew the corpse back into the passage, and hurried to her\nhome. Opening her master\u2019s volume again, she read:\n\nT\u00e6det coeli convexa tueri.\n\n\nA few minutes afterwards her father entered the chamber to tell her he\nhad at last found the philosopher\u2019s stone, but, perceiving his daughter\nhanging by her girdle, he forbore to intrude upon her, and returned to\nhis laboratory.\n\nIt was time. A sentinel of the besiegers had marked Benedetto\u2019s fall,\nand the disappearance of the body into the earth. A pool of blood\nrevealed the entrance to the passage. Ere sunrise Mantua was full of\nFrederick\u2019s soldiers, full also of burning houses, rifled sanctuaries,\nviolated damsels, children playing with their dead mothers\u2019 breasts,\nespecially full of citizens protesting that they had ever longed for\nthe restoration of the Emperor, and that this was the happiest day of\ntheir lives. Frederick waited till everybody was killed, then entered\nthe city and proclaimed an amnesty. Virgil\u2019s bust was broken, and his\nwritings burned with Manto\u2019s body. The flames glowed on the dead face,\nwhich gleamed as it were with pleasure. The old alchemist had been\nslain among his crucibles; his scrolls were preserved with jealous\ncare.\n\nBut Manto found another father. She sat at Virgil\u2019s feet in Elysium;\nand as he stroked the fair head, now golden with perpetual youth,\nlistened to his mild reproofs and his cheerful oracles. By her side\nstood a bowl filled with the untasted waters of Lethe.\n\n\u201cWoe,\u201d said Virgil\u2014but his manner contradicted his speech\u2014\u201cwoe to the\nidealist and enthusiast! Woe to them who live in the world to come! Woe\nto them who live only for a hope whose fulfilment they will not behold\non earth! Drink not, therefore, of that cup, dear child, lest Duke\nVirgil\u2019s day should come, and thou shouldst not know it. For come it\nwill, and all the sooner for thy tragedy and thy comedy.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE CLAW\n\n\nThe balm and stillness of a summer\u2019s night enveloped a spacious piazza\nin the city of Shylock and Desdemona. The sky teemed with light\ndrifting clouds through which the beaming of the full moon broke at\nintervals upon some lamp-lit palace, thronged and musical, for it was a\nnight of festivity, or silvered the dull creeping waters. Ever and anon\nsome richly attired young patrician descended the steps of one or other\nof these mansions, and hurried across the wide area to the canal\nstairs, where his gondola awaited him. Whoever did this could not but\nobserve a tall female figure, which, cloaked and masked, walked\nbackwards and forwards across the piazza, regarding no one, yet with an\nair that seemed to invite a companion.\n\nMore than one of the young nobles approached the presumably fair\nperipatetic, and, with courtesy commonly in inverse ratio to the amount\nof wine he was carrying home, proffered his escort to his gondola.\nWhenever this happened the figure removed her mask and unclasped her\nrobe, and revealed a sight which for one moment rooted the young man to\nthe earth and in the next sent him scampering to his bark. For the\ncountenance was a death\u2019s head, and the breast was that of a mouldering\nskeleton.\n\nAt last, however, a youth presented himself who, more courageous or\nmore tipsy than his fellows, or more helplessly paralysed with horror\nthan they, did not decline the proffered caress, and suffered himself\nto be drawn within the goblin\u2019s accursed embrace. Valiant or\npot-valiant, great was his relief at finding himself clasped, instead\nof by a loathsome spectre, by a silver-haired man of noble presence,\nyet with a countenance indescribably haggard and anxious.\n\n\u201cCome, my son,\u201d he cried, \u201chasten whither the rewards of thy\nintrepidity await thee. Impouch the purse of Fortunatus! Indue the\nsignet of Solomon!\u201d\n\nThe young man hesitated. \u201cIs there nought else?\u201d he cautiously\ndemanded. \u201cNeeds it not that I should renounce my baptism? Must I not\nsubscribe an infernal compact?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn thy own blood, my son,\u201d cheerfully responded the old gentleman.\n\n\u201cPeradventure,\u201d hesitatingly interrogated the youth, \u201cperadventure you\nare _he_?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot so, my son, upon honour,\u201d returned the mysterious personage. \u201cI am\nbut a distressed magician, at this present in fearful straits, from\nwhich I look to be delivered by thee.\u201d\n\nThe youth gazed some moments at his companion\u2019s head, and then still\nmore earnestly at his feet. He then yielded his own hand to him, and\nthe pair crossed the piazza, almost at a run, the magician ever\nejaculating, \u201cSpeed! speed!\u201d\n\nThey paused at the foot of a lofty tower, doorless and windowless, with\nno visible access of any kind. But the magician signed with his hand,\npronounced some cabalistical words, and instantly stone and lime fell\nasunder and revealed an entrance through which they passed, and which\nimmediately closed behind them. The youth quaked at finding himself\nalone in utter darkness with he knew not what, but the wizard whistled,\nand a severed hand appeared in air bearing a lamp which illuminated a\nlong winding staircase. The old man motioned to the youth to precede\nhim, nor dared he refuse, though feeling as though he would have given\nthe world for the very smallest relic of the very smallest saint. The\ndistorted shadows of the twain, dancing on stair and wall with the\nwavering lamp-shine, seemed phantoms capering in an infernal revel, and\nhe glanced back ever and anon weening to see himself dogged by some\nfrightful monster, but he saw only the silver hair and sable velvet of\nthe dignified old man.\n\nAfter the ascent of many steps a door opened before them, and they\nfound themselves in a spacious chamber, brightly, yet from its size\nimperfectly illumined by a single large lamp. It was wainscoted with\nebony, and the furniture was of the same. A long table was covered with\nscrolls, skulls, crucibles, crystals, star-charts, geomantic figures,\nand other appurtenances of a magician\u2019s calling. Tomes of necromantic\nlore lined the walls, which were yet principally occupied with crystal\nvessels, in which foul beings seemed dimly and confusedly to agitate\nthemselves.\n\nThe magician signed to his visitor to be seated, sat down himself and\nbegan:\n\n\u201cBrave youth, ere entering upon the boundless power and riches that\nawait thee, learn who I am and why I have brought thee here. Behold in\nme no vulgar wizard, no mere astrologer or alchemist, but a compeer of\nMerlin and Michael Scott, with whose name it may be the nurse of thy\ninfancy hath oft-times quelled thy froward humours. I am Peter of\nAbano, falsely believed to have lain two centuries buried in the\nsemblance of a dog under a heap of stones hurled by the furious\npopulace, but in truth walking earth to this day, in virtue of the\ncompact now to be revealed to thee. Hearken, my son! Vain must be the\nmachinations of my enemies, vain the onslaughts of the rabble, so long\nas I fulfil a certain contract registered in hell\u2019s chancery, as I have\nnow done these three hundred years. And the condition is this, that\nevery year I present unto the Demon one who hath at my persuasion\nassigned his soul to him in exchange for power, riches, knowledge,\nmagical gifts, or whatever else his heart chiefly desireth; nor until\nthis present year have I perilled the fulfilment of my obligation.\nSeest thou these scrolls? They are the assignments of which I have\nspoken. It would amaze thee to scan the subscriptions, and perceive in\nthese the signatures of men exemplary in the eyes of their fellows,\nclothed with high dignities in Church and State\u2014nay sometimes redolent\nof the very odour of sanctity. Never hath my sagacity deceived me until\nthis year, when, smitten with the fair promise of a youth of singular\nimpishness, I omitted to take due note of his consumptive habit, and\nhave but this afternoon encountered his funeral. This is the last day\nof my year, and should my engagement be unredeemed when the sun attains\nthe cusp of that nethermost house of heaven which he is even now\ntraversing, I must become an inmate of the infernal kingdom. No time\nhas remained for nice investigation. I have therefore proved the\ncourage of the Venetian youth in the manner thou knowest, and thou\nalone hast sustained the ordeal. Fail not at my bidding, or thou\nquittest not this chamber alive. For when the Demon comes to bear me\naway, he will assuredly rend thee in pieces for being found in my\ncompany. Thou hast, therefore, everything to gain and nothing to lose\nby joining the goodly fellowship of my mates and partners. Delay not,\ntime urges, night deepens, they that would drink thy blood are abroad.\nHearest thou not the moaning and pelting of the rising storm, and the\nmuttering and scraping of my imprisoned goblins? Save us, I entreat, I\ncommand, save us both!\u201d\n\nScreaming with agitation the aged sorcerer laid a scroll engrossed with\nfairly written characters before the youth, stabbed the latter\u2019s arm\nwith a stylus that at once evoked and collected the crimson stream,\nthrust this into his hand and strove to guide it to the parchment,\nchanting at the same time litanies to the infernal powers. The crystal\nflagons rang like one great harmonica with shrill but spirit-stirring\nmusic; volumes of vaporous perfumes diffused themselves through the\napartment, and an endless procession of treasure-laden figures defiled\nbefore the bewildered youth. He seemed buried in the opulence of the\nworld, as he sat up to his waist in gold and jewels; all the earth\u2019s\nbeauty gazed at him through eyes brilliant and countless as the stars\nof heaven; courtiers beckoned him to thrones; battle-steeds neighed and\npawed for his mounting; laden tables allured every appetite; vassals\nbent in homage; slaves fell prostrate at his feet. Now he seemed to\ncollect or disperse legions of spirits with the waving of a wand; anon,\nas he pronounced a spell, golden dragons glided away from boughs laden\nwith golden fruits. Well for him, doubtless, that in him Nature had\nkneaded from ordinary clay as unimaginative a youth as could be found\nin Venice: yet even so, dazzled with glamour, intoxicated with\nillusion, less and less able to resist the cunningly mingled caresses,\nentreaties, and menaces of Abano, he could not refrain from tracing a\nfew characters with the stylus, when, catching reflected in a mirror\nthe old magician\u2019s expression of wolfish glee, he dropped the\ninstrument from his grasp, and cast his eye upwards as if appealing to\nHeaven. But every drop of blood seemed frozen in his frame as he beheld\nan enormous claw thrust through the roof, member as it seemed of some\nbeing too gigantic to be contained in the chamber or the tower itself.\nCold, poignant, glittering as steel, it rested upon a socket of the\nrepulsive hue of jaundiced ivory, with no vestige of a foot or anything\nto relieve its naked horror as, rigid and lifeless, yet plainly with a\nmighty force behind it, it pointed at the magician\u2019s heart. As Abano,\nfollowing the youth\u2019s eye, caught sight of the portent, his visage\nassumed an expression of frantic horror, his spells died upon his lips,\nand the gorgeous figures became grinning apes or blotchy toads: madly\nhe seized the young man\u2019s hand, and strove to force him to complete his\nsignature. The robust youth felt as an infant in his grasp, but ere the\nstylus could be again thrust upon him the first stroke of the midnight\nhour rang through the chamber, and instantly the gigantic talon pierced\nAbano from breast to back, projecting far beyond his shoulders, and\nswept him upwards to the roof, through which both disappeared without\nleaving a trace of their passage.\n\nHorror and thankfulness rushed together into the young man\u2019s mind, and\nthere contended for some brief instants: but as the last stroke sounded\nall the crystal vials shivered with a stunning crash, and their hellish\ninmates, rejoicing in their deliverance, swarmed into the chamber. All\nmade for the youth, who, tugged, clawed, fondled, bitten, beslimed,\nblinded, deafened, beset in every way by creatures of indescribable\nloathsomeness, grasped frantically as his sole weapon, the stylus; but\nit had become a writhing serpent. This was too much, sense forsook him\non the spot.\n\nOn recovering consciousness he found himself stretched on a pallet in\nthe dungeons of the Inquisition. The Inquisitors sat on their\ntribunals; black-robed familiars flitted about, or waited attentive\nupon their orders; one expert in ecclesiastical jurisprudence proved\nthe edge of an axe, and another heated pincers in a chafing-dish;\ndismal groans pierced the massy walls; two sturdy fellows, stripped to\nthe waist, adjusted the rollers of a rack. A surgeon approached the\nbedside, bearing a phial and a lancet. The youth screamed and again\nbecame insensible.\n\nBut his affright was groundless. The Inquisitors had already taken\ncognisance of Abano\u2019s scrolls, and found that, touching these at least,\nhe had spoken sooth. Besides kings, princes, ministers, magistrates,\nand other secular persons who had owed their success in life to\ndealings with the devil under his mediation, the infernal bondsmen\nincluded so many pillars of the Church and champions of the Faith;\nprelates plenty, abbots in abundance, cardinals not a few, a (some\nwhispered _the_) Pope; above all, so many of the Inquisitors\nthemselves, that further inquiry could evidently nowise conduce to\nedification. The surgeon, therefore, infused an opiate into the veins\nof the unconscious youth, and he came to himself upon a galley speeding\nhim to the holy war in Cyprus, where he fell fighting the Turk.\n\n\n\n\nALEXANDER THE RATCATCHER\n\n\n\u201cAlexander Octavus mures, qui Urbem supra modum vexabant, anathemate\nperculit.\u201d\u2014_Palatius. Fasti Cardinalium_, tom. v.p. 46.\n\nI\n\n\u201cRome and her rats are at the point of battle!\u201d\n\nThis metaphor of Menenius Agrippa\u2019s became, history records, matter of\nfact in 1689, when rats pervaded the Eternal City from garret to\ncellar, and Pope Alexander the Eighth seriously apprehended the fate of\nBishop Hatto. The situation worried him sorely; he had but lately\nattained the tiara at an advanced age\u2014the twenty-fourth hour, as he\nhimself remarked in extenuation of his haste to enrich his nephews. The\ntime vouchsafed for worthier deeds was brief, and he dreaded descending\nto posterity as the Rat Pope. Witty and genial, his sense of humour\nteased him with a full perception of the absurdity of his position.\nPeter and Pasquin concurred in forbidding him to desert his post; and\nhe derived but small comfort from the ingenuity of his flatterers, who\ncompared him to St. Paul contending with beasts at Ephesus.\n\nIt wanted three half-hours to midnight, as Alexander sat amid traps and\nratsbane in his chamber in the Vatican, under the protection of two\nenormous cats and a British terrier. A silver bell stood ready to his\nhand, should the aid of the attendant chamberlains be requisite. The\nwalls had been divested of their tapestries, and the floor gleamed with\npounded glass. A tome of legendary lore lay open at the history of the\nPiper of Hamelin. All was silence, save for the sniffing and scratching\nof the dog and a sound of subterranean scraping and gnawing.\n\n\u201cWhy tarries Cardinal Barbadico thus?\u201d the Pope at last asked himself\naloud. The inquiry was answered by a wild burst of squeaking and\nclattering and scurrying to and fro, as who should say, \u201cWe\u2019ve eaten\nhim! We\u2019ve eaten him!\u201d\n\nBut this exultation was at least premature, for just as the terrified\nPope clutched his bell, the door opened to the narrowest extent\ncompatible with the admission of an ecclesiastical personage of\ndignified presence, and Cardinal Barbadico hastily squeezed himself\nthrough.\n\n\u201cI shall hardly trust myself upon these stairs again,\u201d he remarked,\n\u201cunless under the escort of your Holiness\u2019s terrier.\u201d\n\n\u201cTake him, my son, and a cruse of holy water to boot,\u201d the Pope\nresponded. \u201cNow, how go things in the city?\u201d\n\n\u201cAs ill as may be, your Holiness. Not a saint stirs a finger to help\nus. The country-folk shun the city, the citizens seek the country. The\nmultitude of enemies increases hour by hour. They set at defiance the\nanathemas fulminated by your Holiness, the spiritual censures placarded\nin the churches, and the citation to appear before the ecclesiastical\ncourts, although assured that their cause shall be pleaded by the\nablest advocates in Rome. The cats, amphibious with alarm, are taking\nto the Tiber. Vainly the city reeks with toasted cheese, and the\nCommissary-General reports himself short of arsenic.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd how are the people taking it?\u201d demanded Alexander. \u201cTo what cause\ndo they attribute the public calamity?\u201d\n\n\u201cGenerally speaking, to the sins of your Holiness,\u201d replied the\nCardinal.\n\n\u201cCardinal!\u201d exclaimed Alexander indignantly.\n\n\u201cI crave pardon for my temerity,\u201d returned Barbadico. \u201cIt is with\ndifficulty that I force myself to speak, but I am bound to lay the\nungrateful truth before your Holiness. The late Pope, as all men know,\nwas a personage of singular sanctity.\u201d\n\n\u201cFar too upright for this fallen world,\u201d observed Alexander with\nunction.\n\n\u201cI will not dispute,\u201d responded the Cardinal, \u201cthat the head of\nInnocent the Eleventh might have been more fitly graced by a halo than\nby a tiara. But the vulgar are incapable of placing themselves at this\npoint of view. They know that the rats hardly squeaked under Innocent,\nand that they swarm under Alexander. What wonder if they suspect your\nHoliness of familiarity with Beelzebub, the patron of vermin, and\nearnestly desire that he would take you to himself? Vainly have I\nrepresented to them the unreasonableness of imposing upon him a trouble\nhe may well deem superfluous, considering your Holiness\u2019s infirm health\nand advanced age. Vainly, too, have I pointed out that your anathema\nhas actually produced all the effect that could have been reasonably\nanticipated from any similar manifesto on your predecessor\u2019s part. They\nwon\u2019t see it. And, in fact, might I humbly advise, it does appear\nimpolitic to hurl anathemas unless your Holiness knows that some one\nwill be hit. It might be opportune, for example, to excommunicate\nFather Molinos, now fast in the dungeons of St. Angelo, unless, indeed,\nthe rats have devoured him there. But I question the expediency of\ngoing much further.\u201d\n\n\u201cCardinal,\u201d said the Pope, \u201cyou think yourself prodigiously clever, but\nyou ought to know that the state of public opinion allowed us no\nalternative. Moreover, I will give you a wrinkle, in case you should\never come to be Pope yourself. It is unwise to allow ancient\nprerogatives to fall entirely into desuetude. Far-seeing men\nprognosticate a great revival of sacerdotalism in the nineteenth\ncentury, and what is impotent in an age of sense may be formidable in\nan age of nonsense. Further, we know not from one day to another\nwhether we may not be absolutely necessitated to excommunicate that\nfautor of Gallicanism, Louis the Fourteenth, and before launching our\nbolt at a king, we may think well to test its efficacy upon a rat.\n_Fiat experimentum._ And now to return to our rats, from which we have\nratted. Is there indeed no hope?\u201d\n\n\u201c_Lateat scintillula forsan_,\u201d said the Cardinal mysteriously.\n\n\u201cHa! How so?\u201d eagerly demanded Alexander.\n\n\u201cOur hopes,\u201d answered the Cardinal, \u201care associated with the recent\nadvent to this city of an extraordinary personage.\u201d\n\n\u201cExplain,\u201d urged the Pope.\n\n\u201cI speak,\u201d resumed the Cardinal, \u201cof an aged man of no plebeian mien or\nbearing, albeit most shabbily attired in the skins, now fabulously\ncheap, of the vermin that torment us; who, professing to practise as an\nherbalist, some little time ago established himself in an obscure\nstreet of no good repute. A tortoise hangs in his needy shop, nor are\nstuffed alligators lacking. Understanding that he was resorted to by\nsuch as have need of philters and love-potions, or are incommoded by\nthe longevity of parents and uncles, I was about to have him arrested,\nwhen I received a report which gave me pause. This concerned the\nsingular intimacy which appeared to subsist between him and our\nenemies. When he left home, it was averred, he was attended by troops\nof them obedient to his beck and call, and spies had observed him\nbanqueting them at his counter, the rats sitting erect and comporting\nthemselves with perfect decorum. I resolved to investigate the matter\nfor myself. Looking into his house through an unshuttered window, I\nperceived him in truth surrounded by feasting and gambolling rats; but\nwhen the door was opened in obedience to my attendants\u2019 summons, he\nappeared to be entirely alone. Laying down a pestle and mortar, he\ngreeted me by name with an easy familiarity which for the moment quite\ndisconcerted me, and inquired what had procured him the honour of my\nvisit. Recovering myself, and wishing to intimidate him:\n\n\u201c\u2018I desire in the first place,\u2019 I said, \u2018to point out to you your grave\ntransgression of municipal regulations in omitting to paint your name\nover your shop.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Call me Rattila,\u2019 he rejoined with unconcern, \u2018and state your further\nbusiness.\u2019\n\n\u201cI felt myself on the wrong tack, and hastened to interrogate him\nrespecting his relations with our adversaries. He frankly admitted his\nacquaintance with rattery in all its branches, and his ability to\ndeliver the city from this scourge, but his attitude towards your\nHoliness was so deficient in respect that I question whether I ought to\nreport it.\u201d\n\n\u201cProceed, son,\u201d said the Pope; \u201cwe will not be deterred from providing\nfor the public weal by the ribaldry of a ratcatcher.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe scoffed at what he termed your Holiness\u2019s absurd position, and\naffirmed that the world had seldom beheld, or would soon behold again,\nso ridiculous a spectacle as a Pope besieged by rats. \u2018I can help your\nmaster,\u2019 he continued, \u2018and am willing; but my honour, like his, is\naspersed in the eyes of the multitude, and he must come to my aid, if I\nam to come to his.\u2019\n\n\u201cI prayed him to be more explicit, and offered to be the bearer of any\ncommunication to your Holiness.\n\n\u201c\u2018I will unfold myself to no one but the Pope himself,\u2019 he replied,\n\u2018and the interview must take place when and where I please to appoint.\nLet him meet me this very midnight, and alone, in the fifth chamber of\nthe Appartamento Borgia.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018The Appartamento Borgia!\u2019 I exclaimed in consternation. \u2018The saloons\nwhich the wicked Pope Alexander the Sixth nocturnally perambulates,\nmingling poisons that have long lost their potency for Cardinals who\nhave long lost their lives!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Have a care!\u2019 he exclaimed sharply. \u2018You speak to his late Holiness\u2019s\nmost intimate friend.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Then,\u2019 I answered, \u2018you must obviously be the Devil, and I am not at\npresent empowered to negotiate with your Infernal Majesty. Consider,\nhowever, the peril and inconvenience of visiting at dead of night rooms\nclosed for generations. Think of the chills and cobwebs. Weigh the\nprobability of his Holiness being devoured by rats.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I guarantee his Holiness absolute immunity from cold,\u2019 he replied,\n\u2018and that none of my subjects shall molest him either going or\nreturning.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018But,\u2019 I objected, \u2018granting that you are not the Devil, how the\ndevil, let me ask, do you expect to gain admittance at midnight to the\nAppartamento Borgia?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Think you I cannot pass through a stone wall?\u2019 answered he, and\nvanished in an instant. A tremendous scampering of rats immediately\nensued, then all was silence.\n\n\u201cOn recovering in some measure from my astounded condition, I caused\nstrict search to be made throughout the shop. Nothing came to light but\nherbalists\u2019 stuff and ordinary medicines. And now, Holy Father, your\nHoliness\u2019s resolution? Reflect well. This Rattila may be the King of\nthe Rats, or he may be Beelzebub in person.\u201d\n\nAlexander the Eighth was principally considered by his contemporaries\nin the light of a venerable fox, but the lion had by no means been\nomitted from his composition.\n\n\u201cAll powers of good forbid,\u201d he exclaimed, \u201cthat a Pope and a Prince\nshould shrink from peril which the safety of the State summons him to\nencounter! I will confront this wizard, this goblin, in the place of\nhis own appointing, under his late intimate friend\u2019s very nose. I am a\nman of many transgressions, but something assures me that Heaven will\nnot deem this a fit occasion for calling them to remembrance. Time\npresses; I lead on; follow, Cardinal Barbadico, follow! Yet stay, let\nus not forget temporal and spiritual armouries.\u201d\n\nAnd hastily providing himself with a lamp, a petronel, a bunch of keys,\na crucifix, a vial of holy water, and a manual of exorcisms, the Pope\npassed through a secret door in a corner of his chamber, followed by\nthe Cardinal bearing another lamp and a naked sword, and preceded by\nthe dog and the two cats, all ardent and undaunted as champions bound\nto the Holy Land for the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre.\n\nII\n\nThe wizard had kept his word. Not a rat was seen or heard upon the\npilgrimage, which was exceedingly toilsome to the aged Pope, from the\nnumber of passages to be threaded and doors to be unlocked. At length\nthe companions stood before the portal of the Appartamento Borgia.\n\n\u201cYour Holiness must enter alone,\u201d Cardinal Barbadico admonished, with\nmanifest reluctance.\n\n\u201cAwait my return,\u201d enjoined the Pontiff, in a tone of more confidence\nthan he could actually feel, as, after much grinding and grating, the\nmassive door swung heavily back, and he passed on into the dim,\nunexplored space beyond. The outer air, streaming in as though eager to\nindemnify itself for years of exile, smote and swayed the flame of the\nPope\u2019s lamp, whose feeble ray flitted from floor to ceiling as the\ndecrepit man, weary with the way he had traversed and the load he was\nbearing, tottered and stumbled painfully along, ever and anon arrested\nby a closed door, which he unlocked with prodigious difficulty. The\ncats cowered close to the Cardinal; the dog at first accompanied the\nPope, but whined so grievously, as though he beheld a spirit, that\nAlexander bade him back.\n\nSupreme is the spell of the _genius loci_. The chambers traversed by\nthe Pope were in fact adorned with fair examples of the painter\u2019s art,\nmostly scriptural in subject, but some inspired with the devout\nPantheism in which all creeds are reconciled. All were alike invisible\nto the Pontiff, who, with the dim flicker of his lamp, could no more\ndiscern Judaea wed with Egypt on the frescoed ceiling than, with the\nhuman limitation of his faculties, he could foresee that the\nill-reputed rooms would one day harbour a portion of the Vatican\nLibrary, so greatly enriched by himself. Nothing but sinister memories\nand vague alarms presented themselves to his imagination. The\natmosphere, heavy and brooding from the long exclusion of the outer\nair, seemed to weigh upon him with the density of matter, and to afford\nthe stuff out of which phantasmal bodies perpetually took shape and, as\nhe half persuaded himself, substance. Creeping and tottering between\nbowl and cord, shielding himself with lamp and crucifix from\nMichelotto\u2019s spectral poniard and more fearful contact with fleshless\nVanozzas and mouldering Giulias, the Pope urged, or seemed to urge, his\ncourse amid phantom princes and cardinals, priests and courtesans,\nsoldiers and serving-men, dancers, drinkers, dicers, Bacchic and\nCotyttian workers of whatsoever least beseemed the inmates of a\nPontifical household, until, arrived in the fifth chamber, close by\nthe, to him, invisible picture of the Resurrection, he sank exhausted\ninto a spacious chair that seemed placed for his reception, and for a\nmoment closed his eyes. Opening them immediately afterwards, he saw\nwith relief that the phantoms had vanished, and that he confronted what\nat least seemed a fellow-mortal, in the ancient ratcatcher, habited\nprecisely as Cardinal Barbadico had described, yet, for all his mean\napparel, wearing the air of one wont to confer with the potentates of\nthe earth on other subjects than the extermination of rats.\n\n\u201cThis is noble of your Holiness\u2014really,\u201d he said, bowing with mock\nreverence. \u201cA second Leo the Great!\u201d\n\n\u201cI tell you what, my man,\u201d responded Alexander, feeling it very\nnecessary to assert his dignity while any of it remained, \u201cyou are not\nto imagine that, because I have humoured you so far as to grant you an\naudience at an unusual place and time, I am going to stand any amount\nof your nonsense and impertinence. You can catch our rats, can you?\nCatch them then, and you need not fear that we shall treat you like the\nPied Piper of Hamelin. You have committed sundry rascalities, no doubt?\nA pardon shall be made out for you. You want a patent or a privilege\nfor your ratsbane? You shall have it. So to work, in the name of St.\nMuscipulus! and you may keep the tails and skins.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlexander,\u201d said the ratcatcher composedly, \u201cI would not commend or\ndispraise you unduly, but this I may say, that of all the Popes I have\nknown you are the most exuberant in hypocrisy and the most deficient in\npenetration. The most hypocritical, because you well know, and know\nthat I know that you know, that you are not conversing with an ordinary\nratcatcher: had you deemed me such, you would never have condescended\nto meet me at this hour and place. The least penetrating, because you\napparently have not yet discovered to whom you are speaking. Do you\nreally mean to say that you do not know me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI believe I have seen your face before,\u201d said Alexander, \u201cand all the\nmore likely as I was inspector of prisons when I was Cardinal.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen look yonder,\u201d enjoined the ratcatcher, as he pointed to the\nfrescoed wall, at the same time vehemently snapping his fingers.\nPhosphoric sparks hissed and crackled forth, and coalesced into a blue\nlambent flame, which concentrated itself upon a depicted figure, whose\nprecise attitude the ratcatcher assumed as he dropped upon his knees.\nThe Pope shrieked with amazement, for, although the splendid Pontifical\nvestments had become ragged fur, in every other respect the kneeling\nfigure was the counterpart of the painted one, and the painted one was\nPinturicchio\u2019s portrait of Pope Alexander the Sixth kneeling as a\nwitness of the Resurrection.\n\nAlexander the Eighth would fain have imitated his predecessor\u2019s\nattitude, but terror bound him to his chair, and the adjuration of his\npatron St. Mark which struggled towards his lips never arrived there.\nThe book of exorcisms fell from his paralysed hand, and the vial of\nholy water lay in shivers upon the floor. Ere he could collect himself,\nthe dead Pope had seated himself beside the Pope with one foot in the\ngrave, and, fondling a ferret-skin, proceeded to enter into\nconversation.\n\n\u201cWhat fear you?\u201d he asked. \u201cWhy should I harm you? None can say that I\never injured any one for any cause but my own advantage, and to injure\nyour Holiness now would be to obstruct a design which I have\nparticularly at heart.\u201d\n\n\u201cI crave your Holiness\u2019s forgiveness,\u201d rejoined the Eighth Alexander,\n\u201cbut you must be aware that you left the world with a reputation which\ndisqualifies you for the society of any Pope in the least careful of\nhis character. It positively compromises me to have so much as the\nghost of a person so universally decried as your Holiness under my\nroof, and you would infinitely oblige me by forthwith repairing to your\nown place, which I take to be about four thousand miles below where you\nare sitting. I could materially facilitate and accelerate your\nHoliness\u2019s transit thither if you would be so kind as to hand me that\nlittle book of exorcisms.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow is the fine gold become dim!\u201d exclaimed Alexander the Sixth.\n\u201cPopes in bondage to moralists! Popes nervous about public opinion! Is\nthere another judge of morals than the Pope speaking _ex cathedra_, as\nI always did? Is the Church to frame herself after the prescriptions of\nheathen philosophers and profane jurists? How, then, shall she be\nterrible as an army with banners? Did I concern myself with such\npedantry when the Kings of Spain and Portugal came to me like cats\nsuing for morsels, and I gave them the West and the East?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is true,\u201d Alexander the Eighth allowed, \u201cthat the lustre of the\nChurch hath of late been obfuscated by the prevalence of heresy.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt isn\u2019t the heretics,\u201d Borgia insisted. \u201cIt is the degeneracy of the\nPopes. A shabby lot! You, Alexander, are about the best of them; but\nthe least Cardinal about my Court would have thought himself bigger\nthan you.\u201d\n\nAlexander\u2019s spirit rose. \u201cI would suggest,\u201d he said, \u201cthat this haughty\nstyle is little in keeping with the sordid garb wherein your Holiness,\nconsistent after death as in your life, masquerades to the scandal and\ndistress of the faithful.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow can I other? Has your Holiness forgotten your Rabelais?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe works of that eminent Doctor and Divine,\u201d answered Alexander the\nEighth, \u201care seldom long absent from my hands, yet I fail to remember\nin what manner they elucidate the present topic.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet me refresh your memory,\u201d rejoined Borgia, and, producing a volume\nof the Sage of Meudon, he turned to the chapter descriptive of the\nemployments of various eminent inhabitants of the nether world, and\npointed to the sentence:\n\n\u201cLE PAPE ALEXANDRE ESTOYT PRENEUR DE RATZ.\u201d [*]\n\n*) _Pantagruel_, Book XI. ch. 30.\n\n\n\u201cIs this indeed sooth?\u201d demanded his successor.\n\n\u201cHow else should Fran\u00e7ois Rabelais have affirmed it?\u201d responded Borgia.\n\u201cWhen I arrived in the subterranean kingdom, I found it in the same\ncondition as your Holiness\u2019s dominions at the present moment, eaten up\nby rats. The attention which, during my earthly pilgrimage, I had\ndevoted to the science of toxicology indicated me as a person qualified\nto abate the nuisance, which commission I executed with such success,\nthat I received the appointment of Ratcatcher to his Infernal Majesty,\nand so discharged its duties as to merit a continuance of the good\nopinion which had always been entertained of me in that exalted\nquarter. After a while, however, interest began to be made for me in\neven more elevated spheres. I had not been able to cram Heaven with\nSpaniards, as I had crammed the Sacred College\u2014on the contrary. Truth\nto speak, my nation has not largely contributed to the population of\nthe regions above. But some of us are people of consequence. My\ngreat-grandson, the General of the Jesuits, who, as such, had the ear\nof St. Ignatius Loyola, represented that had I adhered strictly to my\nvows, he could never have come into existence, and that the Society\nwould thus have wanted one of its brightest ornaments. This argument\nnaturally had great weight with St. Ignatius, the rather as he, too,\nwas my countryman. Much also was said of the charity I had shown to the\nexiled Jews, which St. Dominic was pleased to say made him feel ashamed\nof himself when he came to think of it; for my having fed my people in\ntime of dearth, instead of contriving famines to enrich myself, as so\nmany Popes\u2019 nephews have done since; and of the splendid order in which\nI kept the College of Cardinals. Columbus said a good word for me, and\nSavonarola did not oppose. Finally I was allowed to come upstairs, and\nexercise my profession on earth. But mark what pitfalls line the good\nman\u2019s path! I never could resist tampering with drugs of a deleterious\nnature, and was constantly betrayed by the thirst for scientific\nexperiment into practices incompatible with the public health. The good\nnature which my detractors have not denied me was a veritable snare. I\nfelt for youth debarred from its enjoyments by the unnatural vitality\nof age, and sympathised with the blooming damsel whose parent alone\nstood between her and her lover. I thus lived in constant apprehension\nof being ordered back to the Netherlands, and yearned for the wings of\na dove, that I might flee away and be out of mischief. At last I\ndiscovered that my promotion to a higher sphere depended upon my\nobtaining a testimonial from the reigning Pope. Let a solemn procession\nbe held in my honour, and intercession be publicly made for me, and I\nshould ascend forthwith. I have consequently represented my case to\nmany of your predecessors: but, O Alexander, you seventeenth-century\nPopes are a miserable breed! No fellow-feeling, no _esprit de corps.\nHeu pietas! heu prisca fides_! No one was so rude as your ascetic\nantecessor. The more of a saint, the less of a gentleman. Personally\noffensive, I assure you! But the others were nearly as bad. The haughty\nPaul, the fanatic Gregory, the worldly Urban, the austere Innocent the\nTenth, the affable Alexander the Seventh, all concurred in assuring me\nthat it was deeply to be regretted that I should ever have been\nemancipated from the restraints of the Stygian realm, to which I should\ndo well to return with all possible celerity; that it would much\nconduce to the interests of the Church if my name could be forgotten;\nand that as for doing anything to revive its memory, they would just as\nsoon think of canonising Judas Iscariot.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd therefore your Holiness has brought these rats upon us, enlisted,\nI nothing doubt, in the infernal regions?\u201d\n\n\u201cPrecisely so: Plutonic, necyomantic, Lemurian rats, kindly lent by the\nPrince of Darkness for the occasion, and come dripping from Styx to\nsqueak and gibber in the Capitol. But I note your Holiness\u2019s admission\nthat they belong to a region exempt from your jurisdiction, and that,\ntherefore, your measures against them, except as regards their status\nas belligerents, are for the most part illegitimate and _ultra vires_.\u201d\n\n\u201cI would argue that point,\u201d replied Alexander the Eighth, \u201cif my lungs\nwere as tough as when I pleaded before the Rota in Pope Urban\u2019s time.\nFor the present I confine myself to formally protesting against your\nHoliness\u2019s unprecedented and parricidal conduct in invading your\ncountry at the head of an army of loathsome vermin.\u201d\n\n\u201cUnprecedented!\u201d exclaimed Borgia. \u201cAm I not the modern Coriolanus? Did\nNarses experience blacker ingratitude than I? Where would the temporal\npower be but for me? Who smote the Colonna? Who squashed the Orsini?\nWho gave the Popes to dwell quietly in their own house? Monsters of\nunthankfulness!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am sure,\u201d said Alexander the Eighth soothingly, \u201cthat my\npredecessors\u2019 inability to comply with your Holiness\u2019s request must\nhave cost them many inward tears, not the less genuine because entirely\ninvisible and completely inaudible. A wise Pope will, before all\nthings, consider the spirit of his age. The force of public opinion,\nwhich your Holiness lately appeared to disparage, was, in fact, as\noperative upon yourself as upon any of your successors. If you achieved\ngreat things in your lifetime, it was because the world was with you.\nDid you pursue the same methods now, you would soon discover that you\nhad become an offensive anachronism. It will not have escaped your\nHoliness\u2019s penetration that what moralists will persist in terming the\nelevation of the standard of the Church, is the result of the so-called\nimprovement of the world.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is a measure of truth in this,\u201d admitted Alexander the Sixth,\n\u201cand the spirit of this age is a very poor spirit. It was my felicity\nto be a Pope of the Renaissance. Blest dispensation! when men\u2019s view of\nlife was large and liberal; when the fair humanities flourished; when\nthe earth yielded up her hoards of chiselled marble and breathing\nbronze, and new-found agate urns as fresh as day; when painters and\nsculptors vied with antiquity, and poets and historians followed in\ntheir path; when every benign deity was worshipped save Diana and\nVesta; when the arts of courtship and cosmetics were expounded by\narchbishops; when the beauteous Imperia was of more account than the\neleven thousand virgins; when obnoxious persons glided imperceptibly\nfrom the world; and no one marvelled if he met the Pope arm in arm with\nthe Devil. How miserable, in comparison, is the present sapless age,\nwith its prudery and its pedantry, and its periwigs and its painted\ncoaches, and its urban Arcadias and the florid impotence and\nostentatious inanity of what it calls its art! Pope Alexander! I see in\nthe spirit the sepulchre destined for _you_, and I swear to you that my\nsoul shivers in my ratskins! Come, now! I do not expect you to emulate\nthe Popes of my time, but show that your virtues are your own, and your\nfaults those of your epoch. Pluck up a spirit! Take bulls by the horns!\nLook facts in the face! Think upon the images of Brutus and Cassius!\nRecognise that you cannot get rid of me, and that the only safe course\nis to rehabilitate me. I am not a candidate for canonisation just now;\nbut repair past neglect and appease my injured shade in the way you wot\nof. If this is done, I pledge my word that every rat shall forthwith\nevacuate Rome. Is it a bargain? I see it is; you are one of the good\nold sort, though fallen on evil days.\u201d\n\nRenaissance or Rats, Alexander the Eighth yielded.\n\n\u201cI promise,\u201d he declared.\n\n\u201cYour hand upon it!\u201d\n\nSubduing his repugnance and apprehension by a strong effort, Alexander\nlaid his hand within the spectre\u2019s clammy paw. An icy thrill ran\nthrough his veins, and he sank back senseless into his chair.\n\nIII\n\nWhen the Pope recovered consciousness he found himself in bed, with\nslight symptoms of fever. His first care was to summon Cardinal\nBarbadico, and confer with him respecting the surprising adventures\nwhich had recently befallen them. To his amazement, the Cardinal\u2019s mind\nseemed an entire blank on the subject. He admitted having made his\ncustomary report to his Holiness the preceding night, but knew nothing\nof any supernatural ratcatcher, and nothing of any midnight rendezvous\nat the Appartamento Borgia. Investigation seemed to justify his\nnescience; no vestige of the man of rats or of his shop could be\ndiscovered; and the Borgian apartments, opened and carefully searched\nthrough, revealed no trace of having been visited for many years. The\nPope\u2019s book of exorcisms was in its proper place, his vial of holy\nwater stood unbroken upon his table; and his chamberlains deposed that\nthey had consigned him to Morpheus at the usual hour. His illusion was\nat first explained as the effect of a peculiarly vivid dream; but when\nhe declared his intention of actually holding a service and conducting\na procession for the weal of his namesake and predecessor, the\nconviction became universal that the rats had effected a lodgement in\nhis Holiness\u2019s upper storeys.\n\nAlexander, notwithstanding, was resolute, and so it came to pass that\non the same day two mighty processions encountered within the walls of\nRome. As the assembled clergy, drawn from all the churches and\nmonasteries in the city, the Pope in his litter in their midst,\nmarched, carrying candles, intoning chants, and, with many a secret\nshrug and sneer, imploring Heaven for the repose of Alexander the\nSixth, they were suddenly brought to bay by another procession\nprecipitated athwart their track, disorderly, repulsive, but more\ngrateful to the sight of the citizens than all the pomps and pageants\nof the palmiest days of the Papacy. Black, brown, white, grey; fat and\nlean; old and young; strident or silent; the whiskered legions tore and\ngalloped along; thronging from every part of the city, they united in\nsingle column into an endless host that appeared to stretch from the\nrising to the setting of the sun. They seemed making for the Tiber,\nwhich they would have speedily choked; but ere they could arrive there\na huge rift opened in the earth, down which they madly precipitated\nthemselves. Their descent, it is affirmed, lasted as many hours as\nVulcan occupied in falling from Heaven to Lemnos; but when the last\ntail was over the brink, the gulf closed as effectually as the gulf in\nthe Forum closed over Marcus Curtius, not leaving the slightest\ninequality by which any could detect it.\n\nLong ere this consummation had been attained, the Pope, looking forth\nfrom his litter, observed a venerable personage clad in ratskins, who\nappeared desirous of attracting his notice. Glances of recognition were\nexchanged, and instantly in place of the ratcatcher stood a tall,\nswarthy, corpulent, elderly man, with the majestic yet sensual features\nof Alexander the Sixth, accoutred with the official habiliments and\ninsignia of a Pope, who rose slowly into the air as though he had been\ninflated with hydrogen.\n\n\u201cTo your prayers!\u201d cried Alexander the Eighth, and gave the example.\nThe priesthood resumed its chants, the multitude dropped upon their\nknees. Their orisons seemed to speed the ascending figure, which was\nrising rapidly, when suddenly appeared in air Luxury, Simony, and\nCruelty, contending which should receive the Holy Father into her\nbosom. [*] Borgia struck at them with his crozier, and seemed to be\nkeeping them at bay, when a cloud wrapped the group from the sight of\nmen. Thunder roared, lightning glared, the rush of waters blended with\nthe ejaculations of the people and the yet more tempestuous rushing of\nthe rats. Accompanied as he was, it is not probable that Alexander\npassed, like Dante\u2019s sigh, \u201cbeyond the sphere that doth all spheres\nenfold\u201d; but, as he was never again seen on earth, it is not doubted\nthat he attained at least as far as the moon.\n\n*)         Per aver riposo\nPortato fu fra l\u2019anime beate\nLo spirito di Alessandro glorioso;\nDel qual seguiro le sante pedate\nTre sue familiari e care ancelle,\nLussuria, Simonia, e Crudeltate.\n\u2014MACHIAVELLI, _Decennale Primo_.\n\n\n\n\nTHE REWARDS OF INDUSTRY\n\n\nIn China, under the Tang dynasty, early in the seventh century of the\nChristian era, lived a learned and virtuous, but poor mandarin who had\nthree sons, Fu-su, Tu-sin, and Wang-li. Fu-su and Tu-sin were young men\nof active minds, always labouring to find out something new and useful.\nWang-li was clever too, but only in games of skill, in which he\nattained great proficiency.\n\nFu-su and Tu-sin continually talked to each other of the wonderful\ninventions they would make when they arrived at man\u2019s estate, and of\nthe wealth and renown they promised themselves thereby. Their\nconversation seldom reached the ears of Wang-li, for he rarely lifted\nhis eyes from the chess-board on which he solved his problems. But\ntheir father was more attentive, and one day he said:\n\n\u201cI fear, my sons, that among your multifarious pursuits and studies you\nmust have omitted to include that of the laws of your country, or you\nwould have learned that fortune is not to be acquired by the means\nwhich you have proposed to yourselves.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow so, father?\u201d asked they.\n\n\u201cIt hath been justly deemed by our ancestors,\u201d said the old man, \u201cthat\nthe reverence due to the great men who are worshipped in our temples,\nby reason of our indebtedness to them for the arts of life, could not\nbut become impaired if their posterity were suffered to eclipse their\nfame by new discoveries, or presumptuously amend what might appear\nimperfect in their productions. It is therefore, by an edict of the\nEmperor Suen, forbidden to invent anything; and by a statute of the\nEmperor Wu-chi it is further provided that nothing hitherto invented\nshall be improved. My predecessor in the small office I hold was\ndeprived of it for saying that in his judgment money ought to be made\nround instead of square, and I have myself run risk of my life for\nseeking to combine a small file with a pair of tweezers.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf this is the case,\u201d said the young men, \u201cour fatherland is not the\nplace for us.\u201d And they embraced their father, and departed. Of their\nbrother Wang-li they took no farewell, inasmuch as he was absorbed in a\nchess problem. Before separating, they agreed to meet on the same spot\nafter thirty years, with the treasure which they doubted not to have\nacquired by the exercise of their inventive faculties in foreign lands.\nThey further covenanted that if either had missed his reward the other\nshould share his possessions with him.\n\nFu-su repaired to the artists who cut out characters in blocks of hard\nwood, to the end that books may be printed from the same. When he had\nfathomed their mystery he betook himself to a brass-founder, and\nlearned how to cast in metal. He then sought a learned man who had\ntravelled much, and made himself acquainted with the Greek, Persian,\nand Arabic languages. Then he cast a number of Greek characters in\ntype, and putting them into a bag and providing himself with some\nwooden letter-tablets of his own carving, he departed to seek his\nfortune. After innumerable hardships and perils he arrived in the land\nof Persia, and inquired for the great king.\n\n\u201cThe great king is dead,\u201d they told him, \u201cand his head is entirely\nseparated from his body. There is now no king in Persia, great or\nsmall,\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere shall I find another great king?\u201d demanded he.\n\n\u201cIn the city of Alexandria,\u201d replied they, \u201cwhere the Commander of the\nFaithful is busy introducing the religion of the Prophet.\u201d\n\nFu-su passed to Alexandria, carrying his types and tablets.\n\nAs he entered the gates he remarked an enormous cloud of smoke, which\nseemed to darken the whole city. Before he could inquire the reason,\nthe guard arrested him as a stranger, and conducted him to the presence\nof the Caliph Omar.\n\n\u201cKnow, O Caliph,\u201d said Fu-su, \u201cthat my countrymen are at once the\nwisest of mankind and the stupidest. They have invented an art for the\npreservation of letters and the diffusion of knowledge, which the sages\nof Greece and India never knew, but they have not learned to take, and\nthey refuse to be taught how to take, the one little step further\nnecessary to render it generally profitable to mankind.\u201d\n\nAnd producing his tablets and types, he explained to the Caliph the\nentire mystery of the art of printing.\n\n\u201cThou seemest to be ignorant,\u201d said Omar, \u201cthat we have but yesterday\ncondemned and excommunicated all books, and banished the same from the\nface of the earth, seeing that they contain either that which is\ncontrary to the Koran, in which case they are impious, or that which is\nagreeable to the Koran, in which case they are superfluous. Thou art\nfurther unaware, as it would seem, that the smoke which shrouds the\ncity proceeds from the library of the unbelievers, consumed by our\norders. It will be meet to burn thee along with it.\u201d\n\n\u201cO Commander of the Faithful,\u201d said an officer, \u201cof a surety the last\nscroll of the accursed ceased to flame even as this infidel entered the\ncity.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf it be so,\u201d said Omar, \u201cwe will not burn him, seeing that we have\ntaken away from him the occasion to sin. Yet shall he swallow these\nlittle brass amulets of his, at the rate of one a day, and then be\nbanished from the country.\u201d\n\nThe sentence was executed, and Fu-su was happy that the Court physician\ncondescended to accept his little property in exchange for emetics.\n\nHe begged his way slowly and painfully back to China, and arrived at\nthe covenanted spot at the expiration of the thirtieth year. His\nfather\u2019s modest dwelling had disappeared, and in its place stood a\nmagnificent mansion, around which stretched a park with pavilions,\ncanals, willow-trees, golden pheasants, and little bridges.\n\n\u201cTu-sin has surely made his fortune,\u201d thought he, \u201cand he will not\nrefuse to share it with me agreeably to our covenant.\u201d\n\nAs he thus reflected he heard a voice at his elbow, and turning round\nperceived that one in a more wretched plight than himself was asking\nalms of him. It was Tu-sin.\n\nThe brothers embraced with many tears, and after Tu-sin had learned\nFu-su\u2019s history, he proceeded to recount his own.\n\n\u201cI repaired,\u201d said he, \u201cto those who know the secret of the grains\ntermed fire-dust, which Suen has not been able to prevent us from\ninventing, but of which Wu-chi has taken care that we shall make no\nuse, save only for fireworks. Having learned their mystery I deposited\na certain portion of this fire-dust in hollow tubes which I had\nconstructed of iron and brass, and upon it I further laid leaden balls\nof a size corresponding to the hollow of the tubes. I then found that\nby applying a light to the fire-dust at one end of the tube I could\nsend the ball out at the other with such force that it penetrated the\ncuirasses of three warriors at once. I filled a barrel with the dust,\nand concealing it and the tubes under carpets which I laid upon the\nbacks of oxen, I set out to the city of Constantinople. I will not at\npresent relate my adventures on the journey. Suffice it that I arrived\nat last half dead from fatigue and hardship, and destitute of\neverything except my merchandise. By bribing an officer with my carpets\nI was admitted to have speech with the Emperor. I found him busily\nstudying a problem in chess.\n\n\u201cI told him that I had discovered a secret which would make him the\nmaster of the world, and in particular would help him to drive away the\nSaracens, who threatened his empire with destruction.\n\n\u201c\u2018Thou must perceive,\u2019 he said, \u2018that I cannot possibly attend to thee\nuntil I have solved this problem. Yet, lest any should say that the\nEmperor neglects his duties, absorbed in idle amusement, I will refer\nthy invention to the chief armourers of my capital. And he gave me a\nletter to the armourers, and returned to his problem. And as I quitted\nthe palace bearing the missive, I came upon a great procession.\nHorsemen and running footmen, musicians, heralds, and banner-bearers\nsurrounded a Chinaman who sat in the attitude of Fo under a golden\numbrella upon a richly caparisoned elephant, his pigtail plaited with\nyellow roses. And the musicians blew and clashed, and the\nstandard-bearers waved their ensigns, and the heralds proclaimed, \u2018Thus\nshall it be done to the man whom the Emperor delights to honour.\u2019 And\nunless I was very greatly mistaken, the face of the Chinaman was the\nface of our brother Wang-li.\n\n\u201cAt another time I would have striven to find what this might mean, but\nmy impatience was great, as also my need and hunger. I sought the chief\narmourers, and with great trouble brought them all together to give me\naudience, I produced my tube and fire-dust, and sent my balls with ease\nthrough the best armour they could set before me.\n\n\u201c\u2018Who will want breast-plates now?\u2019 cried the chief breast-plate maker.\n\n\u201c\u2018Or helmets?\u2019 exclaimed one who made armour for the head.\n\n\u201c\u2018I would not have taken fifty bezants for that shield, and what good\nis it now?\u2019 said the head of the shield trade.\n\n\u201c\u2018My swords will be of less account,\u2019 said a swordsmith.\n\n\u201c\u2018My arrows of none,\u2019 lamented an arrow-maker.\n\n\u201c\u2018\u2019Tis villainy,\u2019 cried one.\n\n\u201c\u2018\u2019Tis magic,\u2019 shouted another.\n\n\u201c\u2018\u2019Tis illusion, as I\u2019m an honest tradesman,\u2019 roared a third, and put\nhis integrity to the proof by thrusting a hot iron bar into my barrel.\nAll present rose up in company with the roof of the building, and all\nperished, except myself, who escaped with the loss of my hair and skin.\nA fire broke out on the spot, and consumed one-third of the city of\nConstantinople.\n\n\u201cI was lying on a prison-bed some time afterwards, partly recovered of\nmy hurts, dolefully listening to a dispute between two of my guards as\nto whether I ought to be burned or buried alive, when the Imperial\norder for my disposal came down. The gaolers received it with humility,\nand read \u2018Kick him out of the city.\u2019 Marvelling at the mildness of the\npunishment, they nevertheless executed it with so much zeal that I flew\ninto the middle of the Bosphorus, where I was picked up by a fishing\nvessel, and landed on the Asiatic coast, whence I have begged my way\nhome. I now propose that we appeal to the pity of the owner of this\nsplendid mansion, who may compassionate us on hearing that we were\nreared in the Cottage which has been pulled down to make room for his\npalace.\u201d\n\nThey entered the gates, walked timidly up to the house, and prepared to\nfall at the feet of the master, but did not, for ere they could do so\nthey recognised their brother Wang-li.\n\nIt took Wang-li some time to recognise them, but when at length he knew\nthem he hastened to provide for their every want. When they had well\neaten and drunk, and had been clad in robes of honour, they imparted\ntheir histories, and asked for his.\n\n\u201cMy brothers,\u201d said Wang-li, \u201cthe noble game of chess, which was\nhappily invented long before the time of the Emperor Suen, was followed\nby me solely for its pleasure, and I dreamed not of acquiring wealth by\nits pursuit until I casually heard one day that it was entirely unknown\nto the people of the West. Even then I thought not of gaining money,\nbut conceived so deep a compassion for those forlorn barbarians that I\nfelt I could know no rest until I should have enlightened them. I\naccordingly proceeded to the city of Constantinople, and was received\nas a messenger from Heaven. To such effect did I labour that ere long\nthe Emperor and his officers of state thought of nothing else but\nplaying chess all day and night, and the empire fell into entire\nconfusion, and the Saracens mightily prevailed. In consideration of\nthese services the Emperor was pleased to bestow those distinguished\nhonours upon me which thou didst witness at his palace gate, dear\nbrother.\n\n\u201cAfter, however, the fire which was occasioned through thy\ninstrumentality, though in no respect by thy fault, the people\nmurmured, and taxed the Emperor with seeking to destroy his capital in\nleague with a foreign sorcerer, meaning thee. Ere long the chief\nofficers conspired and entered the Emperor\u2019s apartment, purposing to\ndethrone him, but he declared that he would in nowise abdicate until he\nhad finished the game of chess he was then playing with me. They looked\non, grew interested, began to dispute with one another respecting the\nmoves, and while they wrangled loyal officers entered and made them all\ncaptive. This greatly augmented my credit with the Emperor, which was\neven increased when shortly afterwards I played with the Saracen\nadmiral blockading the Hellespont, and won of him forty corn-ships,\nwhich turned the dearth of the city into plenty.\n\n\u201cThe Emperor bade me choose any favour I would, but I said his\nliberality had left me nothing to ask for except the life of a poor\ncountryman of mine who I had heard was in prison for burning the city.\nThe Emperor bade me write his sentence with my own hand. Had I known\nthat it was thou, Tu-sin, believe me I had shown more consideration for\nthy person. At length I departed for my native land, loaded with\nwealth, and travelling most comfortably by relays of swift dromedaries.\nI returned hither, bought our father\u2019s cottage, and on its site erected\nthis palace, where I dwell meditating on the problems of chessplayers\nand the precepts of the sages, and persuaded that a little thing which\nthe world is willing to receive is better than a great thing which it\nhath not yet learned to value aright. For the world is a big child, and\nchooses amusement before instruction.\u201d\n\n\u201cCall you chess an amusement?\u201d asked his brothers.\n\n\n\n\nMADAM LUCIFER\n\n\nLucifer sat playing chess with Man for his soul.\n\nThe game was evidently going ill for Man. He had but pawns left, few\nand straggling. Lucifer had rooks, knights, and, of course, bishops.\n\nIt was but natural under such circumstances that Man should be in no\ngreat hurry to move. Lucifer grew impatient.\n\n\u201cIt is a pity,\u201d said he at last, \u201cthat we did not fix some period\nwithin which the player must move, or resign.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, Lucifer,\u201d returned the young man, in heart-rending accents, \u201cit is\nnot the impending loss of my soul that thus unmans me, but the loss of\nmy betrothed. When I think of the grief of the Lady Adeliza, that\nparagon of terrestrial loveliness!\u201d Tears choked his utterance; Lucifer\nwas touched.\n\n\u201cIs the Lady Adeliza\u2019s loveliness in sooth so transcendent?\u201d he\ninquired.\n\n\u201cShe is a rose, a lily, a diamond, a morning star!\u201d\n\n\u201cIf that is the case,\u201d rejoined Lucifer, \u201cthou mayest reassure thyself.\nThe Lady Adeliza shall not want for consolation. I will assume thy\nshape and woo her in thy stead.\u201d\n\nThe young man hardly seemed to receive all the comfort from this\npromise which Lucifer no doubt designed. He made a desperate move. In\nan instant the Devil checkmated him, and he disappeared.\n\n\u201cUpon my word, if I had known what a business this was going to be, I\ndon\u2019t think I should have gone in for it,\u201d soliloquised the Devil, as,\nwearing his captive\u2019s semblance and installed in his apartments, he\nsurveyed the effects to which he now had to administer. They included\ncoats, shirts, collars, neckties, foils, cigars, and the like _ad\nlibitum_; and very little else except three challenges, ten writs, and\nseventy-four unpaid bills, elegantly disposed around the looking-glass.\nTo the poor youth\u2019s praise be it said, there were no billets-doux,\nexcept from the Lady Adeliza herself.\n\nNoting the address of these carefully, the Devil sallied forth, and\nnothing but his ignorance of the topography of the hotel, which made\nhim take the back stairs, saved him from the clutches of two bailiffs\nlurking on the principal staircase. Leaping into a cab, he thus escaped\na perfumer and a bootmaker, and shortly found himself at the Lady\nAdeliza\u2019s feet.\n\nThe truth had not been half told him. Such beauty, such wit, such\ncorrectness of principle! Lucifer went forth from her presence a\nlove-sick fiend. Not Merlin\u2019s mother had produced half the impression\nupon him; and Adeliza on her part had never found her lover\none-hundredth part so interesting as he seemed that morning.\n\nLucifer proceeded at once to the City, where, assuming his proper shape\nfor the occasion, he negotiated a loan without the smallest difficulty.\nAll debts were promptly discharged, and Adeliza was astonished at the\nsplendour and variety of the presents she was constantly receiving.\n\nLucifer had all but brought her to name the day, when he was informed\nthat a gentleman of clerical appearance desired to wait upon him.\n\n\u201cWants money for a new church or mission, I suppose,\u201d said he. \u201cShow\nhim up.\u201d\n\nBut when the visitor was ushered in, Lucifer found with discomposure\nthat he was no earthly clergyman, but a celestial saint; a saint, too,\nwith whom Lucifer had never been able to get on. He had served in the\narmy while on earth, and his address was curt, precise, and peremptory.\n\n\u201cI have called,\u201d he said, \u201cto notify to you my appointment as Inspector\nof Devils.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d exclaimed Lucifer, in consternation. \u201cTo the post of my old\nfriend Michael!\u201d\n\n\u201cToo old,\u201d said the Saint laconically. \u201cMillions of years older than\nthe world. About your age, I think?\u201d\n\nLucifer winced, remembering the particular business he was then about.\nThe Saint continued:\n\n\u201cI am a new broom, and am expected to sweep clean. I warn you that I\nmean to be strict, and there is one little matter which I must set\nright immediately. You are going to marry that poor young fellow\u2019s\nbetrothed, are you? Now you know you cannot take his wife, unless you\ngive him yours.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, my dear friend,\u201d exclaimed Lucifer, \u201cwhat an inexpressibly\nblissful prospect you do open unto me!\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know that,\u201d said the Saint. \u201cI must remind you that the\ndominion of the infernal regions is unalterably attached to the person\nof the present Queen thereof. If you part with her you immediately lose\nall your authority and possessions. I don\u2019t care a brass button which\nyou do, but you must understand that you cannot eat your cake and have\nit too. Good morning!\u201d\n\nWho shall describe the conflict in Lucifer\u2019s bosom? If any stronger\npassion existed therein at that moment than attachment to Adeliza, it\nwas aversion to his consort, and the two combined were well-nigh\nirresistible. But to disenthrone himself, to descend to the condition\nof a poor devil!\n\nFeeling himself incapable of coming to a decision, he sent for Belial,\nunfolded the matter, and requested his advice.\n\n\u201cWhat a shame that our new inspector will not let you marry Adeliza!\u201d\nlamented his counsellor. \u201cIf you did, my private opinion is that\nforty-eight hours afterwards you would care just as much for her as you\ndo now for Madam Lucifer, neither more nor less. Are your intentions\nreally honourable?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d replied Lucifer, \u201cit is to be a Lucifer match.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe more fool you,\u201d rejoined Belial. \u201cIf you tempted her to commit a\nsin, she would be yours without any conditions at all.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, Belial,\u201d said Lucifer, \u201cI cannot bring myself to be a tempter of\nso much innocence and loveliness.\u201d\n\nAnd he meant what he said.\n\n\u201cWell then, let me try,\u201d proposed Belial.\n\n\u201cYou?\u201d replied Lucifer contemptuously; \u201cdo you imagine that Adeliza\nwould look at _you_?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy not?\u201d asked Belial, surveying himself complacently in the glass.\n\nHe was humpbacked, squinting, and lame, and his horns stood up under\nhis wig.\n\nThe discussion ended in a wager after which there was no retreat for\nLucifer.\n\nThe infernal Iachimo was introduced to Adeliza as a distinguished\nforeigner, and was soon prosecuting his suit with all the success which\nLucifer had predicted. One thing protected while it baffled him\u2014the\nentire inability of Adeliza to understand what he meant. At length he\nwas constrained to make the matter clear by producing an enormous\ntreasure, which he offered Adeliza in exchange for the abandonment of\nher lover.\n\nThe tempest of indignation which ensued would have swept away any\nordinary demon, but Belial listened unmoved. When Adeliza had exhausted\nherself he smilingly rallied her upon her affection for an unworthy\nlover, of whose infidelity he undertook to give her proof. Frantic with\njealousy, Adeliza consented, and in a trice found herself in the\ninfernal regions.\n\nAdeliza\u2019s arrival in Pandemonium, as Belial had planned, occurred\nimmediately after the receipt of a message from Lucifer, in whose bosom\nlove had finally gained the victory, and who had telegraphed his\nabdication and resignation of Madam Lucifer to Adeliza\u2019s betrothed. The\npoor young man had just been hauled up from the lower depths, and was\nbeset by legions of demons obsequiously pressing all manner of\ntreasures upon his acceptance. He stared, helpless and bewildered,\nunable to realise his position in the smallest degree. In the\nbackground grave and serious demons, the princes of the infernal realm,\ndiscussed the new departure, and consulted especially how to break it\nto Madam Lucifer\u2014a commission of which no one seemed ambitious.\n\n\u201cStay where you are,\u201d whispered Belial to Adeliza; \u201cstir not; you shall\nput his constancy to the proof within five minutes.\u201d\n\nNot all the hustling, mowing, and gibbering of the fiends would under\nordinary circumstances have kept Adeliza from her lover\u2019s side: but\nwhat is all hell to jealousy?\n\nIn even less time than he had promised Belial returned, accompanied by\nMadam Lucifer. This lady\u2019s black robe, dripping with blood, contrasted\nagreeably with her complexion of sulphurous yellow; the absence of hair\nwas compensated by the exceptional length of her nails; she was a\nthousand million years old, and, but for her remarkable muscular\nvigour, looked every one of them. The rage into which Belial\u2019s\ncommunication had thrown her was something indescribable; but, as her\neye fell on the handsome youth, a different order of thoughts seemed to\ntake possession of her mind.\n\n\u201cLet the monster go!\u201d she exclaimed; \u201cwho cares? Come, my love, ascend\nthe throne with me, and share the empire and the treasures of thy fond\nLuciferetta.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you don\u2019t, back you go,\u201d interjected Belial.\n\nWhat might have been the young man\u2019s decision if Madam Lucifer had\nborne more resemblance to Madam Vulcan, it would be wholly impertinent\nto inquire, for the question never arose.\n\n\u201cTake me away!\u201d he screamed, \u201ctake me away, anywhere I anywhere out of\nher reach! Oh, Adeliza!\u201d\n\nWith a bound Adeliza stood by his side. She was darting a triumphant\nglance at the discomfited Queen of Hell, when suddenly her expression\nchanged, and she screamed loudly. Two adorers stood before her, alike\nin every lineament and every detail of costume, utterly\nindistinguishable, even by the eye of Love.\n\nLucifer, in fact, hastening to throw himself at Adeliza\u2019s feet and pray\nher to defer his bliss no longer, had been thunderstruck by the tidings\nof her elopement with Belial. Fearing to lose his wife and his\ndominions along with his sweetheart, he had sped to the nether regions\nwith such expedition that he had had no time to change his costume.\nHence the equivocation which confounded Adeliza, but at the same time\npreserved her from being torn to pieces by the no less mystified Madam\nLucifer.\n\nPerceiving the state of the case, Lucifer with true gentlemanly feeling\nresumed his proper semblance, and Madam Lucifer\u2019s talons were\nimmediately inserted into his whiskers.\n\n\u201cMy dear! my love!\u201d he gasped, as audibly as she would let him, \u201cis\nthis the way it welcomes its own Lucy-pucy?\u201d\n\n\u201cWho is that person?\u201d demanded Madam Lucifer.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know her,\u201d screamed the wretched Lucifer. \u201cI never saw her\nbefore. Take her away; shut her up in the deepest dungeon!\u201d\n\n\u201cNot if I know it,\u201d sharply replied Madam Lucifer, \u201cYou can\u2019t bear to\npart with her, can\u2019t you? You would intrigue with her under my nose,\nwould you? Take that! and that! Turn them both out, I say! turn them\nboth out!\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly, my dearest love, most certainly,\u201d responded Lucifer.\n\n\u201cOh, Sire,\u201d cried Moloch and Beelzebub together, \u201cfor Heaven\u2019s sake let\nyour Majesty consider what he is doing. The Inspector\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cBother the Inspector!\u201d screeched Lucifer. \u201cD\u2019ye think I\u2019m not a\nthousand times more afraid of your mistress than of all the saints in\nthe calendar? There,\u201d addressing Adeliza and her betrothed, \u201cbe off!\nYou\u2019ll find all debts paid, and a nice balance at the bank. Cut! Run!\u201d\n\nThey did not wait to be told twice. Earth yawned. The gates of Tartarus\nstood wide. They found themselves on the side of a steep mountain, down\nwhich they scoured madly, hand linked in hand. But fast as they ran, it\nwas long ere they ceased to hear the tongue of Madam Lucifer.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TALISMANS\n\n\nWhat a wondrous creature is man! What feats the humblest among us\nperform, which, if related of another order of beings, we should deem\nincredible!\n\nBy what magic could the young student escape the weary old professor,\nwho was prosily proving Time merely a form of thought; a proposition of\nwhich, to judge by the little value he appeared to set on the subject\nof his discourse, he must himself have been fully persuaded? Without\nexciting his suspicions in the smallest degree, the student stole away\nto a region inconceivably remote, and presented himself at the portal\nof a magnificent palace, guarded by goblins, imps, lions, serpents, and\nmonsters whose uncouthness forbids description.\n\nA singular transformation seemed to have befallen the student. In the\nprofessor\u2019s class he had been noted as timid, awkward, and painfully\nrespectful. He now strode up with an air of alacrity and defiance,\nbrandishing a roll of parchments, and confronted the seven principal\ngoblins, by whom he was successively interrogated.\n\n\u201cHast thou undergone the seven probations?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said the student.\n\n\u201cHast thou swallowed the ninety-nine poisons?\u201d\n\n\u201cNinety-nine times each,\u201d said the student.\n\n\u201cHast thou wedded a Salamander, and divorced her?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have,\u201d said the student.\n\n\u201cArt thou at this present time betrothed to a Vampire?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am,\u201d said the student.\n\n\u201cHast thou sacrificed thy mother and sister to the infernal powers?\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course,\u201d said the student,\n\n\u201cHast thou attestations of all these circumstances under the hands and\nseals of a thousand and one demons?\u201d\n\nThe student displayed his parchments.\n\n\u201cThou hast undergone every trial,\u201d pronounced the seventh goblin; \u201cthou\nhast won the right to enter the treasury of the treasurer of all\nthings, and to choose from it any one talisman at thy liking.\u201d\n\nThe imps cheered, the goblins congratulated, the serpents shrank\nhissing away, the lions fawned upon the student, a centaur bore him\nupon his back to the treasurer\u2019s presence,\n\nThe treasurer, an old bent man, with a single lock of silvery hair,\nreceived the adventurer with civility.\n\n\u201cI have come,\u201d said the student, \u201cfor the talismans in thy keeping, to\nthe choice among which I have entitled myself.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou hast fairly earned them,\u201d replied the old man, \u201cand I may not say\nthee nay. Thou canst, however, only possess any of them in the shape\nwhich it has received at my hands during the long period for which\nthese have remained in my custody.\u201d\n\n\u201cI must submit to the condition,\u201d said the student.\n\n\u201cBehold, then, Aladdin\u2019s lamp,\u201d said the ancient personage, tendering a\ntiny vase hardly bigger than a pill-box, containing some grains of a\ncoarse, rusty powder.\n\n\u201cAladdin\u2019s lamp!\u201d cried the student.\n\n\u201cAll of it, at least, that I have seen fit to preserve,\u201d replied the\nold man. \u201cThou art but just in time for this even. It is proper to\napprise thee that the virtues of the talisman having necessarily\ndwindled with its bulk, it is at present incompetent to evoke any\nGenie, and can at most summon an imp, of whose company thou wilt never\nbe able to rid thyself, inasmuch as the least friction will inevitably\ndestroy what little of the talisman remains.\u201d\n\n\u201cConfusion!\u201d cried the young man, \u201cShow me, then, Aladdin\u2019s ring.\u201d\n\n\u201cHere,\u201d replied the old man, producing a plain gold hoop,\n\n\u201cThis, at least,\u201d asked the student, \u201cis not devoid of virtue?\u201d\n\n\u201cAssuredly not, if placed on the finger of some fair lady. For, its\nmagic properties depending wholly upon certain engraved characters,\nwhich I have gradually obliterated, it is at present unadapted to any\nother use than that of a wedding-ring, which it would subserve to\nadmiration.\u201d\n\n\u201cProduce another talisman,\u201d commanded the youth,\n\n\u201cThese,\u201d said the ancient treasurer, holding up two shapeless pieces of\nleather, \u201care the shoes of swiftness, incomparable until I wore them\nout.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis, at least, is bright and weighty,\u201d exclaimed the student, as the\nold man displayed the sword of sharpness.\n\n\u201cIn truth a doughty weapon,\u201d returned the treasurer, \u201cif wielded by a\nstronger arm than thine, for it will no longer fly in the air and smite\noff heads of its own accord, since the new blade hath been fitted to\nthe new hilt.\u201d\n\nAfter a hasty inspection of the empty frame of a magic mirror, and a\nfragment of the original setting of Solomon\u2019s seal, the youth\u2019s eye\nlighted upon a volume full of mysterious characters.\n\n\u201cWhose book is this?\u201d he inquired. \u201cHeavens, it is Michael Scott\u2019s!\u201d\n\n\u201cEven so,\u201d returned the venerable man, \u201cand its spells have lost\nnothing of their efficacy. But the last leaf, containing the formula\nfor dismissing spirits after they have been summoned from the nether\nworld, hath been removed by me. Inattention to this circumstance hath\ncaused several most respectable magicians to be torn in pieces, and\nhath notably increased the number of demons at large.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou old villain!\u201d shouted the exasperated youth, \u201cis this the way in\nwhich the treasures in thy custody are protected by thee? Deemest thou\nthat I will brook being thus cheated of my dear-bought talisman? Nay,\nbut I will deprive thee of thine. Give me that lock of hair.\u201d\n\n\u201cO good youth,\u201d supplicated the now terrified and humbled old man,\n\u201cbereave me not of the source of all my power. Think, only think of the\nconsequences!\u201d\n\n\u201cI will not think,\u201d roared the youth. \u201cDeliver it to me, or I\u2019ll rend\nit from thy head with my own hands.\u201d\n\nWith a heavy sigh, Time clipped the lock from his brow and handed it to\nthe youth, who quitted the place unmolested by any of the monsters.\n\nEntering the great city, the student made his way by narrow and winding\nstreets until, after a considerable delay, he emerged into a large\npublic square. It was crowded with people, gazing intently at the\nafternoon sky, and the air was rife with a confused murmur of\naltercations and exclamations.\n\n\u201cIt is.\u201d \u201cNo, I tell you, it is impossible.\u201d \u201cIt cannot be.\u201d \u201cI see it\nmove.\u201d \u201cNo, it\u2019s only my eyes are dazzled.\u201d \u201cWho could have believed\nit?\u201d \u201cWhatever will happen next?\u201d\n\nFollowing the gaze of the people, the youth discovered that the object\nof their attention was the sun, in whose aspect, however, he could\ndiscover nothing unusual.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d a man by him was saying, \u201cit positively has not moved for an\nhour. I have my instruments by me. I cannot possibly be mistaken.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt ought to have been behind the houses long ago,\u201d said another.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s o\u2019clock?\u201d asked a third. The inquiry made many turn their eyes\ntowards the great clock in the square. It had stopped an hour ago. The\nhands were perfectly motionless. All who had watches simultaneously\ndrew them from their pockets. The motion of each was suspended; so\nintense, in turn, was the hush of the breathless crowd, that you could\nhave heard a single tick, but there was none to hear.\n\n\u201cTime is no more,\u201d proclaimed a leader among the people.\n\n\u201cI am a ruined man,\u201d lamented a watchmaker.\n\n\u201cAnd I,\u201d ejaculated a maker of almanacks.\n\n\u201cWhat of quarter-day?\u201d inquired a landlord and a tenant simultaneously.\n\n\u201cWe shall never see the moon again,\u201d sobbed a pair of lovers.\n\n\u201cIt is well this did not happen at night,\u201d observed an optimist.\n\n\u201cIndeed?\u201d questioned the director of a gas company.\n\n\u201cI told you the Last Day would come in our time,\u201d said a preacher.\n\nIt was still long before the people realised that the trance of Time\nhad paralysed his daughter Mutability as well. Every operation\ndepending on her silent processes was arrested. The unborn could not\ncome to life. The sick could not die. The human frame could not waste.\nEvery one in the enjoyment of health and strength felt assured of the\nperpetual possession of these blessings, unless he should meet with\naccident or violent death. But all growth ceased, and all dissolution\nwas stayed. Mothers looked with despair on infants who could never be\nweaned or learn to walk. Expectant heirs gazed with dismay on immortal\nfathers and uncles. The reigning beauties, the fashionable boxers and\nopera dancers were in the highest feather. Nor did the intellectual\nless rejoice, counting on endless life and unimpaired faculties, and\nvowing to extend human knowledge beyond the conceivable. The poor and\nthe outcast, the sick and the maimed, the broken-hearted and the dying\nmade, indeed, a dismal outcry, the sincerity of which was doubted by\nsome persons.\n\nAs for our student, forgetting his faithful Vampire, he made his way to\na young lady of great personal attractions, to whom he had been\nattached in former days. The sight of her beauty, and the thought that\nit would be everlasting, revived his passion. To convince her of the\nperpetuity of her charms, and establish a claim upon her gratitude, he\ncautiously revealed to her that he was the author of this blissful\nstate of things, and that Time\u2019s hair was actually in his possession.\n\n\u201cOh, you dear good man!\u201d she exclaimed, \u201chow vastly I am obliged to\nyou! Ferdinand will never forsake me now.\u201d\n\n\u201cFerdinand! Leonora, I thought you cared for _me_.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d she said, \u201cyou young men of science are so conceited!\u201d\n\nThe discomfited lover fled from the house, and sought the treasurer\u2019s\npalace. It had vanished with all its monsters. Long did he roam the\ncity ere he mixed again with the crowd, which an old meteorologist was\naddressing energetically.\n\n\u201cI ask you one thing,\u201d he was saying. \u201cWill it ever rain again?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly not,\u201d replied a geologist and a metaphysician together.\n\u201cRain being an agent of Time in the production of change, there can be\nno place for it under the present dispensation.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen will not the crops be burned up? Will the fruits mature? Are they\nnot withering already? What of wells and rivers, and the mighty sea\nitself? Who will feed your cattle? And who will feed _you_?\u201d\n\n\u201cThis concerns us,\u201d said the butchers and bakers.\n\n\u201cUs also,\u201d added the fishmongers.\n\n\u201cI always thought,\u201d said a philosopher, \u201cthat this phenomenon must be\nthe work of some malignant wizard.\u201d\n\n\u201cShow us the wizard that we may slay him,\u201d roared the mob.\n\nLeonora had been communicative, and the student was immediately\nidentified by twenty persons. The lock of hair was found upon him, and\nwas held up in sight of the multitude.\n\n\u201cKill him!\u201d\n\n\u201cBurn him!\u201d\n\n\u201cCrucify him!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt moves! it moves!\u201d cried another division of the crowd. All eyes\nwere bent on the hitherto stationary luminary. It was moving\u2014no, it\nwasn\u2019t; yes, it certainly was. Dared men believe that their shadows\nwere actually lengthening? Was the sun\u2019s rim really drawing nigh yonder\ngreat edifice? That muffled sound from the vast, silent multitude was,\ndoubtless, the quick beating of innumerable hearts; but that sharper\nnote? Could it be the ticking of watches? Suddenly all the public\nclocks clanged the first stroke of an hour\u2014an absurdly wrong hour, but\nit was an hour. No mortal heard the second stroke, drowned in universal\nshouts of joy and gratitude. The student mingled with the mass, no man\nregarding him.\n\nWhen the people had somewhat recovered from their emotion, they fell to\ndisputing as to the cause of the last marvel. No scientific man could\nget beyond a working hypothesis. The mystery was at length solved by a\nvery humble citizen, a barber.\n\n\u201cWhy,\u201d he said, \u201cthe old gentleman\u2019s hair has grown again!\u201d\n\nAnd so it had! And so it was that the unborn came to life, the dying\ngave up the ghost, Leonora pulled out a grey hair, and the student told\nthe professor his dream.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ELIXIR OF LIFE\n\n\nThe aged philosopher Aboniel inhabited a lofty tower in the city of\nBalkh, where he devoted himself to the study of chemistry and the\noccult sciences. No one was ever admitted to his laboratory. Yet\nAboniel did not wholly shun intercourse with mankind, but, on the\ncontrary, had seven pupils, towardly youths belonging to the noblest\nfamilies of the city, whom he instructed at stated times in philosophy\nand all lawful knowledge, reserving the forbidden lore of magic and\nalchemy for himself.\n\nBut on a certain day he summoned his seven scholars to the mysterious\napartment. They entered with awe and curiosity, but perceived nothing\nsave the sage standing behind a table, on which were placed seven\ncrystal phials, filled with a clear liquid resembling water.\n\n\u201cYe know, my sons,\u201d he began, \u201cwith what ardour I am reputed to have\nstriven to penetrate the hidden secrets of Nature, and to solve the\nproblems which have allured and baffled the sages of all time. In this\nrumour doth not err: such hath ever been my object; but, until\nyesterday, my fortune hath been like unto theirs who have preceded me.\nThe little I could accomplish seemed as nothing in comparison with what\nI was compelled to leave unachieved. Even now my success is but\npartial. I have not learned to make gold; the talisman of Solomon is\nnot mine; nor can I recall the principle of life to the dead, or infuse\nit into inanimate matter. But if I cannot create, I can preserve. I\nhave found the Elixir of Life.\u201d\n\nThe sage paused to examine the countenances of his scholars. Upon them\nhe read extreme surprise, undoubting belief in the veracity of their\nteacher, and the dawning gleam of a timid hope that they themselves\nmight become participators in the transcendent discovery he proclaimed.\nAddressing himself to the latter sentiment\u2014\u201cI am willing,\u201d he\ncontinued, \u201cto communicate this secret to you, if such be your desire.\u201d\n\nAn unanimous exclamation assured him that there need be no uncertainty\non this point.\n\n\u201cBut remember,\u201d he resumed, \u201cthat this knowledge, like all knowledge,\nhas its disadvantages and its drawbacks. A price must be paid, and when\nye come to learn it, it may well be that it will seem too heavy.\nUnderstand that the stipulations I am about to propound are not of my\nimposing; the secret was imparted to me by spirits not of a benevolent\norder, and under conditions with which I am constrained strictly to\ncomply. Understand also that I am not minded to employ this knowledge\non my own behalf. My fourscore years\u2019 acquaintance with life has\nrendered me more solicitous for methods of abbreviating existence, than\nof prolonging it. It may be well for you if your twenty years\u2019\nexperience has led you to the same conclusion.\u201d\n\nThere was not one of the young men who would not readily have admitted,\nand indeed energetically maintained, the emptiness, vanity, and general\nunsatisfactoriness of life; for such had ever been the doctrine of\ntheir venerated preceptor. Their present behaviour, however, would have\nconvinced him, had he needed conviction, of the magnitude of the gulf\nbetween theory and practice, and the feebleness of intellectual\npersuasion in presence of innate instinct. With one voice they\nprotested their readiness to brave any conceivable peril, and undergo\nany test which might be imposed as a condition of participation in\ntheir master\u2019s marvellous secret.\n\n\u201cSo be it,\u201d returned the sage, \u201cand now hearken to the conditions.\n\n\u201cEach of you must select at hazard, and immediately quaff one of these\nseven phials, in one of which only is contained the Elixir of Life. Far\ndifferent are the contents of the others; they are the six most deadly\npoisons which the utmost subtlety of my skill has enabled me to\nprepare, and science knows no antidote to any of them. The first\nscorches up the entrails as with fire; the second slays by freezing\nevery vein, and benumbing every nerve; the third by frantic\nconvulsions. Happy in comparison he who drains the fourth, for he sinks\ndead upon the ground immediately, smitten as it were with lightning.\nNor do I overmuch commiserate him to whose lot the fifth may fall, for\nslumber descends upon him forthwith, and he passes away in painless\noblivion. But wretched he who chooses the sixth, whose hair falls from\nhis head, whose skin peels from his body, and who lingers long in\nexcruciating agonies, a living death. The seventh phial contains the\nobject of your desire. Stretch forth your hands, therefore,\nsimultaneously to this table; let each unhesitatingly grasp and\nintrepidly drain the potion which fate may allot him, and be the\nquality of his fortune attested by the result.\u201d\n\nThe seven disciples contemplated each other with visages of sevenfold\nblankness. They next unanimously directed their gaze towards their\npreceptor, hoping to detect some symptom of jocularity upon his\nvenerable features. Nothing could be descried thereon but the most\nimperturbable solemnity, or, if perchance anything like an expression\nof irony lurked beneath this, it was not such irony as they wished to\nsee. Lastly, they scanned the phials, trusting that some infinitesimal\ndistinction might serve to discriminate the elixir from the poisons.\nBut no, the vessels were indistinguishable in external appearance, and\nthe contents of each were equally colourless and transparent.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d demanded Aboniel at length, with real or assumed surprise,\n\u201cwherefore tarry ye thus? I deemed to have ere this beheld six of you\nin the agonies of death!\u201d\n\nThis utterance did not tend to encourage the seven waverers. Two of the\nboldest, indeed, advanced their hands half-way to the table, but\nperceiving that their example was not followed, withdrew them in some\nconfusion.\n\n\u201cThink not, great teacher, that I personally set store by this\nworthless existence,\u201d said one of their number at last, breaking the\nembarrassing silence, \u201cbut I have an aged mother, whose life is bound\nup with mine.\u201d\n\n\u201cI,\u201d said the second, \u201chave an unmarried sister, for whom it is meet\nthat I should provide.\u201d\n\n\u201cI,\u201d said the third, \u201chave an intimate and much-injured friend, whose\ncause I may in nowise forsake.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I an enemy upon whom I would fain be avenged,\u201d said the fourth.\n\n\u201cMy life,\u201d said the fifth, \u201cis wholly devoted to science. Can I consent\nto lay it down ere I have sounded the seas of the seven climates?\u201d\n\n\u201cOr I, until I have had speech of the man in the moon?\u201d inquired the\nsixth.\n\n\u201cI,\u201d said the seventh, \u201chave neither mother nor sister, friends nor\nenemies, neither doth my zeal for science equal that of my fellows. But\nI have all the greater respect for my own skin; yea, the same is\nexceedingly precious in my sight.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe conclusion of the whole matter, then,\u201d summed up the sage, \u201cis\nthat not one of you will make a venture for the cup of immortality?\u201d\n\nThe young men remained silent and abashed, unwilling to acknowledge the\njustice of their master\u2019s taunt, and unable to deny it. They sought for\nsome middle path, which did not readily present itself.\n\n\u201cMay we not,\u201d said one at last, \u201cmay we not cast lots, and each take a\nphial in succession, as destiny may appoint?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have nothing against this,\u201d replied Aboniel, \u201conly remember that the\nleast endeavour to contravene the conditions by amending the chance of\nany one of you, will ensure the discomfiture of all.\u201d\n\nThe disciples speedily procured seven quills of unequal lengths, and\nproceeded to draw them in the usual manner. The shortest remained in\nthe hand of the holder, he who had pleaded his filial duty to his\nmother.\n\nHe approached the table with much resolution, and his hand advanced\nhalf the distance without impediment. Then, turning to the holder of\nthe second quill; the man with the sister, he said abruptly:\n\n\u201cThe relation between mother and son is notoriously more sacred and\nintimate than that which obtains between brethren. Were it not\ntherefore fitting that thou shouldst encounter the first risk in my\nstead?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe relationship between an aged mother and an adult son,\u201d responded\nthe youth addressed, in a sententious tone, \u201calbeit most holy, cannot\nin the nature of things be durable, seeing that it must shortly be\ndissolved by death. Whereas the relationship between brother and sister\nmay endure for many years, if such be the will of Allah. It is\ntherefore proper that thou shouldst first venture the experiment.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave I lived to hear such sophistry from a pupil of the wise Aboniel!\u201d\nexclaimed the first speaker, in generous indignation. \u201cThe maternal\nrelationship\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cA truce to this trifling,\u201d cried the other six; \u201cfulfil the\nconditions, or abandon the task.\u201d\n\nThus urged, the scholar approached his hand to the table, and seized\none of the phials. Scarcely, however, had he done so, when he fancied\nthat he detected something of a sinister colour in the liquid, which\ndistinguished it, in his imagination, from the innocent transparency of\nthe rest. He hastily replaced it, and laid hold of the next. At that\nmoment a blaze of light burst forth upon them, and, thunderstruck, the\nseven scholars were stretched senseless on the ground.\n\nOn regaining their faculties they found themselves at the outside of\nAboniel\u2019s dwelling, stunned by the shock, and humiliated by the part\nthey had played. They jointly pledged inviolable secrecy, and returned\nto their homes.\n\nThe secret of the seven was kept as well as the secret of seven can be\nexpected to be; that is to say, it was not, ere the expiration of seven\ndays, known to more than six-sevenths of the inhabitants of Balkh. The\nlast of these to become acquainted with it was the Sultan, who\nimmediately despatched his guards to apprehend the sage, and confiscate\nthe Elixir. Failing to obtain admission at Aboniel\u2019s portal, they broke\nit open, and, on entering his chamber, found him in a condition which\nmore eloquently than any profession bespoke his disdain for the\nlife-bestowing draught. He was dead in his chair. Before him, on the\ntable, stood the seven phials, six full as previously, the seventh\nempty. In his hand was a scroll inscribed as follows;\n\n\u201cSix times twice six years have I striven after knowledge, and I now\nbequeath to the world the fruit of my toil, being six poisons. One more\ndeadly I might have added, but I have refrained,\n\n\u201cWrite upon my tomb, that here he lies who forbore to perpetuate human\naffliction, and bestowed a fatal boon where alone it could be\ninnoxious.\u201d\n\nThe intruders looked at each other, striving to penetrate the sense of\nAboniel\u2019s last words. While yet they gazed, they were startled by a\nloud crash from an adjacent closet, and were even more discomposed as a\nlarge monkey bounded forth, whose sleek coat, exuberant playfulness,\nand preternatural agility convinced all that the deceased philosopher,\nunder an inspiration of supreme irony, had administered to the creature\nevery drop of the Elixir of Life.\n\n\n\n\nTHE POET OF PANOPOLIS\n\nI\n\nAlthough in a manner retired from the world during the fifth and sixth\nChristian centuries, the banished Gods did not neglect to keep an eye\non human affairs, interesting themselves in any movement which might\nseem to afford them a chance of regaining their lost supremacy, or in\nany person whose conduct evinced regret at their dethronement. They\ndeeply sympathised with the efforts of their votary Pamprepius to turn\nthe revolt of Illus to their advantage, and excused the low magical\narts to which he stooped as a necessary concession to the spirit of a\nbarbarous age. They ministered invisibly to Damascius and his\ncompanions on their flight into Persia, alleviating the hardships under\nwhich the frames of the veteran philosophers might otherwise have sunk.\nIt was not, indeed, until the burning of the Alexandrian library that\nthey lost all heart and lapsed into the chrysalis-like condition in\nwhich they remained until tempted forth by the young sunshine of the\nRenaissance.\n\nSuch a phenomenon for the fifth century as the Dionysiaca of Nonnus of\nPanopolis could not fail to excite their most lively interest.\nForty-eight books of verse on the exploits of Bacchus in the age of\npugnacious prelates and filthy coenobites, of imbecile rulers and\nrampant robbers, of the threatened dissolution of every tie, legal,\nsocial, or political; an age of earthquake, war, and famine! Bacchus,\nwho is known from Aristophanes not to have excelled in criticism,\nprotested that his laureate was greater than Homer; and, though Homer\ncould not go quite so far as this, he graciously conceded that if he\nhad himself been an Egyptian of the fifth century, with a faint\nglimmering of the poetical art, and encumbered with more learning than\nhe knew how to use, he might have written almost as badly as his modern\nrepresentative. More impartial critics judged Nonnus\u2019s achievement more\nfavourably, and all agreed that his steadfastness in the faith deserved\nsome special mark of distinction. The Muses under Pallas\u2019s direction\n(being themselves a little awkward in female accomplishments)\nembroidered him a robe; Hermes made a lyre, and Hephaestus forged a\nplectrum. Apollo added a chaplet of laurel, and Bacchus one of ivy.\nWhether from distrust of Hermes\u2019 integrity, or wishing to make the\npersonal acquaintance of his follower, Ph\u0153bus volunteered to convey the\ntestimonial in person, and accordingly took his departure for the\nEgyptian Thebaid.\n\nAs Apollo fared through the sandy and rugged wilderness under the\nblazing sun of an African summer afternoon, he observed with surprise a\nvast crowd of strange figures swarming about the mouth of a cavern like\nbees clustering at the entrance to a hive. On a nearer approach he\nidentified them as a posse of demons besetting a hermit. Words cannot\ndescribe the enormous variety of whatever the universe holds of most\nheterogeneous. Naked women of surpassing loveliness displayed their\ncharms to the anchorite\u2019s gaze, sturdy porters bent beneath loads of\ngold which they heaped at his feet, other shapes not alien from\nhumanity allured his appetite with costly dishes or cooling drinks, or\nsmote at him with swords, or made feints at his eyes with spears, or\nburned sulphur under his nose, or displayed before him scrolls of\npoetry or learning, or shrieked blasphemies in his ears, or surveyed\nhim from a little distance with glances of leering affection; while a\nmotley crowd of goblins, wearing the heads of boars or lions, or\nwhisking the tails of dragons, winged, or hoofed, or scaled, or\nfeathered, or all at once, incessantly jostled and wrangled with each\nother and their betters, mopping and mowing, grunting and grinning,\nsnapping, snarling, constantly running away and returning like gnats\ndancing over a marsh. The holy man sat doggedly at the entrance of his\ncavern, with an expression of fathomless stupidity, which seemed to\ndefy all the fiends of the Thebaid to get an idea into his head, or\nmake him vary his attitude by a single inch.\n\n\u201cThese people did not exist in our time,\u201d said Apollo aloud, \u201cor at\nleast they knew their place, and behaved themselves.\u201d\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d said a comparatively grave and respectable demon, addressing the\nstranger, \u201cI should wish your peregrinity to understand that these imps\nare mere schoolboys\u2014my pupils, in fact. When their education has made\nfurther progress they will be more mannerly, and will comprehend the\nfolly of pestering an unintellectual old gentleman like this worthy\nPachymius with beauty for which he has no eyes, and gold for which he\nhas no use, and dainties for which he has no palate, and learning for\nwhich he has no head. But _I\u2019ll_ wake him up!\u201d And waving his pupils\naway, the paedagogic fiend placed himself at the anchorite\u2019s ear, and\nshouted into it\u2014\n\n\u201cNonnus is to be Bishop of Panopolis!\u201d\n\nThe hermit\u2019s features were instantly animated by an expression of envy\nand hatred.\n\n\u201cNonnus!\u201d he exclaimed, \u201cthe heathen poet, to have the see of\nPanopolis, of which _I_ was promised the reversion!\u201d\n\n\u201cMy dear sir,\u201d suggested Apollo, \u201cit is all very well to enliven the\nreverend eremite; but don\u2019t you think it is rather a liberty to make\nsuch jokes at the expense of my good friend Nonnus?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no liberty,\u201d said the demon, \u201cfor there is no joke. Recanted\non Monday. Baptized yesterday. Ordained to-day. To be consecrated\nto-morrow.\u201d\n\nThe anchorite poured forth a torrent of the choicest ecclesiastical\ncurses, until he became speechless from exhaustion, and Apollo,\nprofiting by the opportunity, addressed the demon:\n\n\u201cWould it be an unpardonable breach of politeness, respected sir, if I\nventured to hint that the illusions your pupils have been trying to\nimpose upon this venerable man have in some small measure impaired the\nconfidence with which I was originally inspired by your advantageous\npersonal appearance?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot in the least,\u201d replied the demon, \u201cespecially as I can easily make\nmy words good. If you and Pachymius will mount my back I will transport\nyou to Panopolis, where you can verify my assertion for yourselves.\u201d\n\nThe Deity and the anchorite promptly consented, and seated themselves\non the demon\u2019s shoulders. The shadow of the fiend\u2019s expanded wings fell\nblack and vast on the fiery sand, but diminished and became invisible\nas he soared to a prodigious height, to escape observation from below.\nBy-and-by the sun\u2019s glowing ball touched earth at the extremity of the\nhorizon; it disappeared, the fires of sunset burned low in the west,\nand the figures of the demon and his freight showed like a black dot\nagainst a lake of green sky, growing larger as he cautiously stooped to\nearth. Grazing temples, skimming pyramids, the party came to ground in\nthe precincts of Panopolis, just in time to avoid the rising moon that\nwould have betrayed them. The demon immediately disappeared. Apollo\nhastened off to demand an explanation from Nonnus, while Pachymius\nrepaired to a neighbouring convent, peopled, as he knew, by a legion of\nsturdy monks, ever ready to smite and be smitten in the cause of\northodoxy.\n\nII\n\nNonnus sat in his study, wrinkling his brow as he polished his verses\nby the light of a small lamp. A large scroll lay open on his knees, the\ncontents of which seemed to afford him little satisfaction. Forty-eight\nmore scrolls, resplendent with silver knobs and coquettishly tied with\npurple cord, reposed in an adjoining book-case; the forty-eight books,\nmanifestly, of the Panopolitan bard\u2019s Dionysiaca. Homer, Euripides, and\nother poets lay on the floor, having apparently been hurriedly\ndislodged to make room for divers liturgies and lives of the saints. A\nset of episcopal robes depended from a hook, and on a side table stood\nhalf-a-dozen mitres, which, to all appearance, the designated prelate\nhad been trying on.\n\n\u201cNonnus,\u201d said Ph\u0153bus, passing noiselessly through the unresisting\nwall, \u201cthe tale of thy apostasy is then true?\u201d\n\nIt would be difficult to determine whether surprise, delight, or dismay\npreponderated in Nonnus\u2019s expression as he lifted up his eyes and\nrecognised the God of Poetry. He had just presence of mind to shuffle\nhis scroll under an enormous dictionary ere he fell at Apollo\u2019s feet.\n\n\u201cO Ph\u0153bus,\u201d he exclaimed, \u201chadst thou come a week ago!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is true, then?\u201d said Apollo. \u201cThou forsakest me and the Muses. Thou\nsidest with them who have broken our statues, unroofed our temples,\ndesecrated our altars, and banished us from among mankind. Thou\nrejectest the glory of standing alone in a barbarous age as the last\nwitness to culture and civilisation. Thou despisest the gifts of the\nGods and the Muses, of which I am even now the bearer. Thou preferrest\nthe mitre to the laurel chaplet, and the hymns of Gregory to the epics\nof Homer?\u201d\n\n\u201cO Ph\u0153bus,\u201d replied Nonnus, \u201cwere it any God but thou, I should bend\nbefore him in silence, having nought to reply. But thou art a poet, and\nthou understandest the temper of a poet. Thou knowest how beyond other\nmen he is devoured by the craving for sympathy. This and not vulgar\nvanity is his motive of action; his shaft is launched in vain unless he\ncan deem it embedded in the heart of a friend. Thou mayest well judge\nwhat scoffings and revilings my Dionysiac epic has brought upon me in\nthis evil age; yet, had this been all, peradventure I might have borne\nit. But it was not all. The gentle, the good, the affectionate, they\nwho in happier times would have been my audience, came about me,\nsaying, Nonnus, why sing the strains against which we must shut our\nears? Sing what we may listen to, and we will love and honour thee. I\ncould not bear the thought of going to my grave without having awakened\nan echo of sympathy, and weakly but not basely I have yielded, given\nthem what they craved, and suffered them, since the Muses\u2019 garland is\nnot theirs to bestow, to reward me with a mitre.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what demanded they?\u201d asked Apollo.\n\n\u201cOh, a mere romance! Something entirely fabulous.\u201d\n\n\u201cI must see it,\u201d persisted Apollo; and Nonnus reluctantly disinterred\nhis scroll from under the big dictionary, and handed it up, trembling\nlike a schoolboy who anticipates a castigation for a bad exercise.\n\n\u201cWhat trash have we here?\u201d cried Ph\u0153bus\u2014\n\n\u201c\u0391\u03c7\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b7\u03bd, \u03b1\u03ba\u03b9\u03c7\u03b7\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2, \u03b5\u03bd \u03b1\u03c1\u03c1\u03b7\u03c4\u03c9 \u039b\u03bf\u03b3\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b1\u03c1\u03c7\u03b7,\n\u2019\u0399\u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03c5\u03b7\u03c2 \u0393\u03b5\u03bd\u03b5\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 \u03cc\u03bc\u03b7\u03bb\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03c2 \u03a4\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b1\u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03c9\u03c1,\n\u039a\u03b1\u03b9 \u039b\u03bf\u03b3\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03c6\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03bf \u0398\u03b5\u03bf\u03c5, \u03c6\u03c9\u03c2, \u03b5\u03ba \u03c6\u03b1\u03b5\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c6\u03c9\u03c2.\n\n\n\u201cIf it isn\u2019t the beginning of the Gospel of John! Thy impiety is worse\nthan thy poetry!\u201d\n\nApollo cast the scroll indignantly to the ground. His countenance wore\nan expression so similar to that with which he is represented in act to\nsmite the Python, that Nonnus judged it prudent to catch up his\nmanuscript and hold it shield-wise before his face.\n\n\u201cThou doest well,\u201d said Apollo, laughing bitterly; \u201cthat rampart is\nindeed impenetrable to my arrows.\u201d\n\nNonnus seemed about to fall prostrate, when a sharp rap came to the\ndoor.\n\n\u201cThat is the Governor\u2019s knock,\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cDo not forsake me\nutterly, O Ph\u0153bus!\u201d But as he turned to open the door, Apollo vanished.\nThe Governor entered, a sagacious, good-humoured-looking man in middle\nlife.\n\n\u201cWho was with thee just now?\u201d he asked. \u201cMethought I heard voices.\u201d\n\n\u201cMerely the Muse,\u201d explained Nonnus, \u201cwith whom I am wont to hold\nnocturnal communings.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed!\u201d replied the Governor. \u201cThen the Muse has done well to take\nherself off, and will do even better not to return. Bishops must have\nno flirtations with Muses, heavenly or earthly\u2014not that I am now\naltogether certain that thou _wilt_ be a bishop.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow so?\u201d asked Nonnus, not without a feeling of relief.\n\n\u201cImagine, my dear friend,\u201d returned the Governor, \u201cwho should turn up\nthis evening but that sordid anchorite Pachymius, to whom the see was\npromised indeed, but who was reported to have been devoured by vermin\nin the desert. The rumour seemed so highly plausible that it must be\nfeared that sufficient pains were not taken to verify it\u2014cannot have\nbeen, in fact; for, as I said, here he comes, having been brought, as\nhe affirms, through the air by an angel. Little would it have signified\nif he had come by himself, but he is accompanied by three hundred monks\ncarrying cudgels, who threaten an insurrection if he is not consecrated\non the spot. My friend the Archbishop and I are at our wits\u2019 end: we\nhave set our hearts on having a gentleman over the diocese, but we\ncannot afford to have tumults reported at Constantinople. At last,\nmainly through the mediation of a sable personage whom no one seems to\nknow, but who approves himself most intelligent and obliging, the\nmatter is put off till to-morrow, when them and Pachymius are to\ncompete for the bishopric in public on conditions not yet settled, but\nwhich our swarthy friend undertakes to arrange to every one\u2019s\nsatisfaction. So keep up a good heart, and don\u2019t run away in any case.\nI know thou art timid, but remember that there is no safety for thee\nbut in victory. If thou yieldest thou wilt be beheaded by me, and if\nthou art defeated thou wilt certainly be burned by Pachymius.\u201d\n\nWith this incentive to intrepidity the Governor withdrew, leaving the\npoor poet in a pitiable state between remorse and terror. One thing\nalone somewhat comforted him! the mitres had vanished, and the gifts of\nthe Gods lay on the table in their place, whence he concluded that a\nfriendly power might yet be watching over him.\n\nIII\n\nNext morning all Panopolis was in an uproar. It was generally known\nthat the pretensions of the candidates for the episcopate would be\ndecided by public competition, and it was rumoured that this would\npartake of the nature of an ordeal by fire and water. Nothing further\nhad transpired except that the arrangements had been settled by the\nGovernor and Archbishop in concert with two strangers, a dingy Libyan\nand a handsome young Greek, neither of whom was known in the city, but\nin both of whom the authorities seemed to repose entire confidence. At\nthe appointed time the people flocked into the theatre, and found the\nstage already occupied by the parties chiefly concerned. The Governor\nand the Archbishop sat in the centre on their tribunals: the\ncompetitors stood on each side, Pachymius backed by the demon, Nonnus\nby Apollo; both these supporters, of course, appearing to the assembly\nin the light of ordinary mortals. Nonnus recognised Apollo perfectly,\nbut Pachymius\u2019s limited powers of intelligence seemed entirely\nengrossed by the discomfort visibly occasioned him by the proximity of\nan enormous brass vessel of water, close to which burned a bright fire.\nNonnus was also ill at ease, and continually directed his attention to\na large package, of the contents of which he seemed instinctively\ncognisant.\n\nAll being ready, the Governor rose from his seat, and announced that,\nwith the sanction of his Grace the Archbishop, the invidious task of\ndetermining between the claims of two such highly qualified competitors\nhad been delegated to two gentlemen in the enjoyment of his full\nconfidence, who would proceed to apply fitting tests to the respective\ncandidates. Should one fail and the other succeed, the victor would of\ncourse be instituted; should both undergo the probation successfully,\nnew criterions of merit would be devised; should both fall short, both\nwould be set aside, and the disputed mitre would be conferred\nelsewhere. He would first summon Nonnus, long their fellow-citizen, and\nnow their fellow-Christian, to submit himself to the test proposed.\n\nApollo now rose, and proclaimed in an audible voice, \u201cBy virtue of the\nauthority committed to me I call upon Nonnus of Panopolis, candidate\nfor the bishopric of his native city, to demonstrate his fitness for\nthe same by consigning to the flames with his own hands the forty-eight\nexecrable books of heathen poetry composed by him in the days of his\ndarkness and blindness, but now without doubt as detestable to him as\nto the universal body of the faithful.\u201d So saying, he made a sign to an\nattendant, the wrapping of the package fell away, and the forty-eight\nscrolls of the Dionysiaca, silver knobs, purple cords, and all, came to\nview.\n\n\u201cBurn my poem!\u201d exclaimed Nonnus. \u201cDestroy the labours of twenty-four\nyears! Bereave Egypt of its Homer! Erase the name of Nonnus from the\ntablet of Time!\u201d\n\n\u201cHow so, while thou hast the Paraphrase of St. John?\u201d demanded Apollo\nmaliciously.\n\n\u201cIndeed, good youth,\u201d said the Governor, who wished to favour Nonnus,\n\u201cmethinks the condition is somewhat exorbitant. A single book might\nsuffice, surely!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am quite content,\u201d replied Apollo. \u201cIf he consents to burn any of\nhis books he is no poet, and I wash my hands of him.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome, Nonnus,\u201d cried the Governor, \u201cmake haste; one book will do as\nwell as another. Hand them up here.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt must be with his own hands, please your Excellency,\u201d said Apollo.\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d cried the Governor, pitching to the poet the first scroll\nbrought to him, \u201cthe thirteenth book. Who cares about the thirteenth\nbook? Pop it in!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe thirteenth book!\u201d exclaimed Nonnus, \u201ccontaining the contest\nbetween wine and honey, without which my epic becomes totally and\nentirely unintelligible!\u201d\n\n\u201cThis, then,\u201d said the Governor, picking out another, which chanced to\nbe the seventeenth,\n\n\u201cIn my seventeenth book,\u201d objected Nonnus, \u201cBacchus plants vines in\nIndia, and the superiority of wine to milk is convincingly\ndemonstrated.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d rejoined the Governor, \u201cwhat say you to the twenty-second?\u201d\n\n\u201cWith my Hamadryad! I can never give up my Hamadryad!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d said the Governor, contemptuously hurling the whole set in the\ndirection of Nonnus, \u201cburn which you will, only burn!\u201d\n\nThe wretched poet sat among his scrolls looking for a victim. All his\nforty-eight children were equally dear to his parental heart. The cries\nof applause and derision from the spectators, and the formidable\nbellowings of the exasperated monks who surrounded Pachymius, did not\ntend to steady his nerves, or render the task of critical\ndiscrimination the easier,\n\n\u201cI won\u2019t! I won\u2019t!\u201d he exclaimed at last, starting up defiantly. \u201cLet\nthe bishopric go to the devil! Any one of my similes is worth all the\nbishoprics in Egypt!\u201d\n\n\u201cOut on the vanity of these poets!\u201d exclaimed the disappointed\nGovernor.\n\n\u201cIt is not vanity,\u201d said Apollo, \u201cit is paternal affection; and being\nmyself a sufferer from the same infirmity, I rejoice to find him my\ntrue son after all.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said the Governor, turning to the demon: \u201cit is thy man\u2019s turn\nnow. Trot him out!\u201d\n\n\u201cBrethren,\u201d said the demon to the assembly, \u201cit is meet that he who\naspires to the office of bishop should be prepared to give evidence of\nextraordinary self-denial. Ye have seen even our weak brother Nonnus\nadoring what he hath burned, albeit as yet unwilling to burn what he\nhath adored. How much more may be reasonably expected of our brother\nPachymius, so eminent for sanctity! I therefore call upon him to\ndemonstrate his humility and self-renunciation, and effectually mortify\nthe natural man, by washing himself in this ample vessel provided for\nthe purpose\u201d\n\n\u201cWash myself!\u201d exclaimed Pacyhmius, with a vivacity of which he had\npreviously shown no token. \u201cDestroy at one splash the sanctity of\nfifty-seven years! Avaunt! thou subtle enemy of my salvation! I know\nthee who thou art, the demon who brought me hither on his back\nyesterday.\u201d\n\n\u201cI thought it had been an angel,\u201d said the Governor.\n\n\u201cA demon in the disguise of an angel of light,\u201d said Pachymius.\n\nA tumultuous discussion arose among Pachymius\u2019s supporters, some\nextolling his fortitude, others blaming his wrongheadedness.\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d said he to the latter, \u201cwould ye rob me of my reputation? Shall\nit be written of me, The holy Pachymius abode in the precepts of the\neremites so long as he dwelt in the desert where no water was, but as\nsoon as he came within sight of a bath, he stumbled and fell?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, father,\u201d urged they, \u201csavoureth not this of vaingloriousness? The\ndemon in the guise of an angel of light, as thou so well saidest even\nnow. Be strong. Quit thyself valiantly. Think of the sufferings of the\nprimitive confessors.\u201d\n\n\u201cSt. John was cast into a caldron of boiling oil,\u201d said one.\n\n\u201cSt. Apocryphus was actually drowned,\u201d said another.\n\n\u201cI have reason to believe,\u201d said a third, \u201cthat the loathsomeness of\nablution hath been greatly exaggerated by the heretics.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know it has,\u201d said another. \u201cI _have_ washed myself once, though ye\nmight not think it, and can assert that it is by no means as\ndisagreeable as one supposes.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is just what I dread,\u201d said Pachymius. \u201cLittle by little, one\nmight positively come to like it! We should resist the beginnings of\nevil.\u201d\n\nAll this time the crowd of his supporters had been pressing upon the\nanchorite, and had imperceptibly forced him nearer the edge of the\nvessel, purposing at a convenient season to throw him in. He was now\nnear enough to catch a glimpse of the limpid element. Recoiling in\nhorror, he collected all his energies, and with head depressed towards\nhis chest, and hands thrust forth as if to ward off pollution\u2014butting,\nkicking, biting the air\u2014he rushed forwards, and with a preternatural\nforce deserving to be enumerated among his miracles, fairly overthrew\nthe enormous vase, the contents streaming on the crowd in front of the\nstage.\n\n\u201cTake me to my hermitage!\u201d he screamed. \u201cI renounce the bishopric. Take\nme to my hermitage!\u201d\n\n\u201cAmen,\u201d responded the demon, and, assuming his proper shape, he took\nPachymius upon his back and flew away with him amid the cheers of the\nmultitude.\n\nPachymius was speedily deposited at the mouth of his cavern, where he\nreceived the visits of the neighbouring anchorites, who came to\ncongratulate him on the constancy with which he had sustained his\nfiery, or rather watery trial. He spent most of his remaining days in\nthe society of the devil, on which account he was canonised at his\ndeath.\n\n\u201cO Ph\u0153bus,\u201d said Nonnus, when they were alone, \u201cimpose upon me any\npenance thou wilt, so I may but regain thy favour and that of the\nMuses. But before all things let me destroy my paraphrase.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou shalt not destroy it,\u201d said Ph\u0153bus, \u201cThou shalt publish it. That\nshall be thy penance.\u201d\n\nAnd so it is that the epic on the exploits of Bacchus and the\nparaphrase of St. John\u2019s Gospel have alike come down to us as the work\nof Nonnus, whose authorship of both learned men have never been able to\ndeny, having regard to the similarity of style, but never could explain\nuntil the facts above narrated came to light in one of the Fayoum\npapyri recently acquired by the Archduke Rainer.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PURPLE HEAD\n\n\nHalf ignorant, they turned an easy wheel\nThat set sharp racks at work to pinch and peel.\n\nI\n\nIn the heyday of the Emperor Aurelian\u2019s greatness, when his strong\nright arm propped Rome up, and hewed Palmyra down, when he surrounded\nhis capital with walls fifty miles in circuit, and led Tetricus and\nZenobia in triumph through its streets, and distributed elephants among\nthe senators, and laid Etruria out in vineyards, and contemplated in\nleisure moments the suppression of Christianity as a subordinate detail\nof administration, a mere ripple on the broad ocean of his policy\u2014at\nthis period Bahram the First, King of Persia, naturally became\ndisquieted in his mind.\n\n\u201cThis upstart soldier of fortune,\u201d reflected he, \u201chas an unseemly habit\nof overcoming and leading captive legitimate princes; thus prejudicing\nDivine right in the eyes of the vulgar. The skin of his predecessor\nValerian, curried and stuffed with straw, hangs to this hour in the\ntemple at Ctesiphon, a pleasing spectacle to the immortal gods. How\nwould my own skin appear in the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus? This\nmust not be. I will send an embassy to him, and impress him with my\ngreatness. But how?\u201d\n\nHe accordingly convoked his counsellors; the viziers, the warriors, the\nmagi, the philosophers; and addressed them thus:\n\n\u201cThe king deigns to consult ye touching a difficult matter. I would\nflatter the pride of Rome, without lowering the pride of Persia. I\nwould propitiate Aurelian, and at the same time humble him. How shall\nthis be accomplished?\u201d\n\nThe viziers, the warriors, and the magi answered not a word. Unbroken\nsilence reigned in the assembly, until the turn came to the sage\nMarcobad, who, prostrating himself, said, \u201cO king, live for ever! In\nancient times, as hath been delivered by our ancestors, Persians were\ninstructed in three accomplishments\u2014to ride, to draw the bow, and to\nspeak the truth. Persia still rides and shoots; truth-speaking (praised\nbe Ormuzd!) she hath discontinued as unbefitting an enlightened nation.\nThou needest not, therefore, scruple to circumvent Aurelian. Offer him\nthat which thou knowest will not be found in his treasury, seeing that\nit is unique in thine own; giving him, at the same time, to understand\nthat it is the ordinary produce of thy dominions. So, while rejoicing\nat the gift, shall he be abashed at his inferiority. I refer to the\npurple robe of her majesty the queen, the like of which is not to be\nfound in the whole earth, neither do any know where the dye that tinges\nit is produced, save that it proceeds from the uttermost parts of\nIndia.\u201d\n\n\u201cI approve thy advice,\u201d replied Bahram, \u201cand in return will save thy\nlife by banishing thee from my dominions. When my august consort shall\nlearn that thou hast been the means of depriving her of her robe, she\nwill undoubtedly request that thou mayest be flayed, and thou knowest\nthat I can deny her nothing. I therefore counsel thee to depart with\nall possible swiftness. Repair to the regions where the purple is\nproduced, and if thou returnest with an adequate supply, I undertake\nthat my royal sceptre shall be graciously extended to thee.\u201d\n\nThe philosopher forsook the royal presence with celerity, and his\noffice of chief examiner of court spikenard was bestowed upon another;\nas also his house and his garden, his gold and his silver, his wives\nand his concubines, his camels and his asses, which were numerous.\n\nWhile the solitary adventurer wended his way eastward, a gorgeous\nembassy travelled westward in the direction of Rome.\n\nArrived in the presence of Aurelian, and at the conclusion of his\ncomplimentary harangue, the chief envoy produced a cedar casket, from\nwhich he drew a purple robe of such surpassing refulgence, that, in the\nwords of the historian who has recorded the transaction, the purple of\nthe emperor and of the matrons appeared ashy grey in comparison. It was\naccompanied by a letter thus conceived:\n\n\u201cBahram to Aurelian: health! Receive such purple as we have in Persia.\u201d\n\n\u201cPersia, forsooth!\u201d exclaimed Sorianus, a young philosopher versed in\nnatural science, \u201cthis purple never was in Persia, except as a rarity.\nOh, the mendacity and vanity of these Orientals!\u201d\n\nThe ambassador was beginning an angry reply, when Aurelian quelled the\ndispute with a look, and with some awkwardness delivered himself of a\nbrief oration in acknowledgment of the gift. He took no more notice of\nthe matter until nightfall, when he sent for Sorianus, and inquired\nwhere the purple actually was produced.\n\n\u201cIn the uttermost parts of India,\u201d returned the philosopher.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d rejoined Aurelian, summing up the matter with his accustomed\nrapidity and clearness of head, \u201ceither thou or the Persian king has\nlied to me, it is plain, and, by the favour of the Gods, it is\nimmaterial which, seeing that my ground for going to war with him is\nequally good in either case. If he has sought to deceive me, I am right\nin punishing him; if he possesses what I lack, I am justified in taking\nit away. It would, however, be convenient to know which of these\ngrounds to inscribe in my manifesto; moreover, I am not ready for\nhostilities at present; having first to extirpate the Blemmyes, Carpi,\nand other barbarian vermin. I will therefore despatch thee to India to\nascertain by personal examination the truth about the purple. Do not\nreturn without it, or I shall cut off thy head. My treasury will charge\nitself with the administration of thy property during thy absence. The\nrobe shall meanwhile be deposited in the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus.\nMay he have it and thee in his holy keeping!\u201d\n\nThus, in that age of darkness, were two most eminent philosophers\nreduced to beggary, and constrained to wander in remote and\ninsalubrious regions; the one for advising a king, the other for\ninstructing an emperor. But the matter did not rest here. For Aurelian,\nhaving continued the visible deity of half the world for one hundred\nand fifty days after the departure of Sorianus, was slain by his own\ngenerals. To him succeeded Tacitus, who sank oppressed by the weight of\nrule; to him Probus, who perished in a military tumult; to him Carus,\nwho was killed by lightning; to him Carinus, who was assassinated by\none whom he had wronged; to him Diocletian, who, having maintained\nhimself for twenty years, wisely forbore to tempt Nemesis further, and\nretired to plant cabbages at Salona. All these sovereigns, differing\nfrom each other in every other respect, agreed in a common desire to\npossess the purple dye, and when the philosopher returned not,\nsuccessively despatched new emissaries in quest of it. Strange was the\ndiversity of fate which befell these envoys. Some fell into the jaws of\nlions, some were crushed by monstrous serpents, some trampled by\nelephants at the command of native princes, some perished of hunger,\nand some of thirst; some, encountering smooth-browed and dark-tressed\ngirls wreathing their hair with the champak blossom or bathing by\nmoonlight in lotus-mantled tanks, forsook their quest, and led\nthenceforth idyllic lives in groves of banian and of palm. Some became\nenamoured of the principles of the Gymnosophists, some couched\nthemselves for uneasy slumber upon beds of spikes, weening to wake in\nthe twenty-second heaven. All which romantic variety of fortune was the\nwork of a diminutive insect that crawled or clung heedless of the\npurple it was weaving into the many-coloured web of human life.\n\nII\n\nSome thirty years after the departure of the Persian embassy to\nAurelian, two travellers met at the bottom of a dell in trans-Gangetic\nIndia, having descended the hill-brow by opposite paths. It was early\nmorning; the sun had not yet surmounted the timbered and tangled sides\nof the little valley, so that the bottom still lay steeped in shadow,\nand glittering with large pearls of limpid dew, while the oval space of\nsky circumscribed by the summit glowed with the delicate splendour of\nthe purest sapphire. Songs of birds resounded through the brake, and\nthe water lilies which veiled the rivulet trickling through the depths\nof the retreat were unexpanded still. One of the wayfarers was aged,\nthe other a man of the latest period of middle life. Their raiment was\nscanty and soiled; their frames and countenances alike bespoke fatigue\nand hardship; but while the elder one moved with moderate alacrity, the\nother shuffled painfully along by the help of a staff, shrinking every\ntime that he placed either of his feet on the ground.\n\nThey exchanged looks and greetings as they encountered, and the more\nactive of the two, whose face was set in an easterly direction,\nventured a compassionate allusion to the other\u2019s apparent distress.\n\n\u2018I but suffer from the usual effects of crucifixion,\u2019 returned the\nother; and removing his sandals, displayed two wounds, completely\npenetrating each foot.\n\nThe Cross had not yet announced victory to Constantine, and was as yet\nno passport to respectable society. The first traveller drew back\nhastily, and regarded his companion with surprise and suspicion.\n\n\u201cI see what is passing in thy mind,\u201d resumed the latter, with a smile;\n\u201cbut be under no apprehension. I have not undergone the censure of any\njudicial tribunal. My crucifixion was merely a painful but necessary\nincident in my laudable enterprise of obtaining the marvellous purple\ndye, to which end I was despatched unto these regions by the Emperor\nAurelian.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe purple dye!\u201d exclaimed the Persian, for it was he. \u201cThou hast\nobtained it?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have. It is the product of insects found only in a certain valley\neastward from hence, to obtain access to which it is before all things\nneedful to elude the vigilance of seven dragons.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou didst elude them? and afterwards?\u201d inquired Marcobad, with\neagerness.\n\n\u201cAfterwards,\u201d repeated Sorianus, \u201cI made my way into the valley, where\nI descried the remains of my immediate predecessor prefixed to a\ncross.\u201d\n\n\u201cThy predecessor?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe who had last made the attempt before me. Upon any one\u2019s penetrating\nthe Valley of Purple, as it is termed, with the design I have\nindicated, the inhabitants, observant of the precepts of their\nancestors, append him to a cross by the feet only, confining his arms\nby ropes at the shoulders, and setting vessels of cooling drink within\nhis grasp. If, overcome with thirst, he partakes of the beverage, they\nleave him to expire at leisure; if he endures for three days, he is\npermitted to depart with the object of his quest. My predecessor,\nbelonging, as I conjecture, to the Epicurean persuasion, and\nconsequently unable to resist the allurements of sense, had perished in\nthe manner aforesaid. I, a Stoic, refrained and attained.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou didst bear away the tincture? thou hast it now?\u201d impetuously\ninterrogated the Persian.\n\n\u201cBehold it!\u201d replied the Greek, exhibiting a small flask filled with\nthe most gorgeous purple liquid. \u201cWhat seest thou here?\u201d demanded he\ntriumphantly, holding it up to the light. \u201cTo me this vial displays the\nUniversity of Athens, and throngs of fair youths hearkening to the\ndiscourse of one who resembles myself.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo my vision,\u201d responded the Persian, peering at the vial, \u201cit rather\nreveals a palace, and a dress of honour. But suffer me to contemplate\nit more closely, for my eyes have waxed dim by over application to\nstudy.\u201d\n\nSo saying, he snatched the flask from Sorianus, and immediately turned\nto fly. The Greek sprang after his treasure, and failing to grasp\nMarcobad\u2019s wrist, seized his beard, plucking the hair out by handfuls.\nThe infuriated Persian smote him on the head with the crystal flagon.\nIt burst into shivers, and the priceless contents gushed forth in a\ntorrent over the uncovered head and uplifted visage of Sorianus,\nbathing every hair and feature with the most vivid purple.\n\nThe aghast and thunderstricken philosophers remained gazing at each\nother for a moment.\n\n\u201cIt is indelible!\u201d cried Sorianus in distraction, rushing down,\nhowever, to the brink of the little stream, and plunging his head\nbeneath the waters. They carried away a cloud of purple, but left the\npurple head stained as before.\n\nThe philosopher, as he upraised his glowing and dripping countenance\nfrom the brook, resembled Silenus emerging from one of the rivers which\nBacchus metamorphosed into wine during his campaign in India. He\nresorted to attrition and contrition, to maceration and laceration; he\ntried friction with leaves, with grass, with sedge, with his garments;\nhe regarded himself in one crystal pool after another, a grotesque\nanti-Narcissus. At last he flung himself on the earth, and gave free\ncourse to his anguish.\n\nThe grace of repentance is rarely denied us when our misdeeds have\nproved unprofitable. Marcobad awkwardly approached.\n\n\u201cBrother,\u201d he whispered, \u201cI will restore the tincture of which I have\ndeprived thee, and add thereto an antidote, if such may be found. Await\nmy return under this camphor tree.\u201d\n\nSo saying, he hastened up the path by which Sorianus had descended, and\nwas speedily out of sight.\n\nIII\n\nSorianus tarried long under the camphor tree, but at last, becoming\nweary, resumed his travels, until emerging from the wilderness he\nentered the dominions of the King of Ayodhya. His extraordinary\nappearance speedily attracted the attention of the royal officers, by\nwhom he was apprehended and brought before his majesty.\n\n\u201cIt is evident,\u201d pronounced the monarch, after bestowing his attention\non the case, \u201cthat thou art in possession of an object too rare and\nprecious for a private individual, of which thou must accordingly be\ndeprived. I lament the inconvenience thou wilt sustain. I would it had\nbeen thy hand or thy foot.\u201d\n\nSorianus acknowledged the royal considerateness, but pleaded the\nindefeasible right of property which he conceived himself to have\nacquired in his own head.\n\n\u201cIn respect,\u201d responded the royal logician, \u201cthat thy head is conjoined\nto thy shoulders, it is thine; but in respect that it is purple, it is\nmine, purple being a royal monopoly. Thy claim is founded on anatomy,\nmine on jurisprudence. Shall matter prevail over mind? Shall medicine,\nthe most uncertain of sciences, override law, the perfection of human\nreason? It is but to the vulgar observation that thou appearest to have\na head at all; in the eye of the law thou art acephalous.\u201d\n\n\u201cI would submit,\u201d urged the philosopher, \u201cthat the corporal connection\nof my head with my body is an essential property, the colour of it a\nfortuitous accident.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou mightest as well contend,\u201d returned the king, \u201cthat the law is\nbound to regard thee in thy abstract condition as a human being, and is\ndisabled from taking cognisance of thy acquired capacity of\nsmuggler\u2014rebel, I might say, seeing that thou hast assumed the purple.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut the imputation of cruelty which might attach to your majesty\u2019s\nproceedings?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere can be no cruelty where there is no injustice. If any there be,\nit must be on thy part, since, as I have demonstrated, so far from my\ndespoiling thee of thy head, it is thou who iniquitously withholdest\nmine. I will labour to render this even clearer to thy apprehension.\nThou art found, as thou must needs admit, in possession of a contraband\narticle forfeit to the crown by operation of law. What then? Shall the\nintention of the legislature be frustrated because thou hast\ninsidiously rendered the possession of _my_ property inseparable from\nthe possession of _thine_? Shall I, an innocent proprietor, be mulcted\nof my right by thy fraud and covin? Justice howls, righteousness weeps,\nintegrity stands aghast at the bare notion. No, friend, thy head has\nnot a leg to stand on. Wouldst thou retain it, it behoves thee to show\nthat it will be more serviceable to the owner, namely, myself, upon thy\nshoulders than elsewhere. This may well be. Hast thou peradventure any\nsubtleties in perfumery? any secrets in confectionery? any skill in the\npreparation of soup?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have condescended to none of these frivolities, O king. My study\nhath ever consisted in divine philosophy, whereby men are rendered\nequal to the gods.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd yet long most of all for purple!\u201d retorted the monarch, \u201cas I\nconclude from perceiving thou hast after all preferred the latter. Thy\nhead must indeed be worth the taking.\u201d\n\n\u201cThy taunt is merited, O king! I will importune thee no longer. Thou\nwilt indeed render me a service in depriving me of this wretched head,\nhideous without, and I must fear, empty within, seeing that it hath not\nprevented me from wasting my life in the service of vanity and luxury.\nWoe to the sage who trusts his infirm wisdom and frail integrity within\nthe precincts of a court! Yet can I foretell a time when philosophers\nshall no longer run on the futile and selfish errands of kings, and\nwhen kings shall be suffered to rule only so far as they obey the\nbidding of philosophers. Peace, Knowledge, Liberty\u2014\u201d\n\nThe King of Ayodhya possessed, beyond all princes of his age, the art\nof gracefully interrupting an unseasonable discourse. He slightly\nsigned to a courtier in attendance, a scimitar flashed for a moment\nfrom its scabbard, and the head of Sorianus rolled on the pavement; the\nlips murmuring as though still striving to dwell with inarticulate\nfondness upon the last word of hope for mankind.\n\nIt soon appeared that the principle of life was essential to the\nresplendence of the Purple Head. Within a few minutes it had assumed so\nghastly a hue that the Rajah himself was intimidated, and directed that\nit should be consumed with the body.\n\nThe same full-moon that watched the white-robed throng busied with the\nrites of incremation in a grove of palms, beheld also the seven dragons\ncontending for the body of Marcobad. But, for many a year, the maids\nand matrons of Rome were not weary of regarding, extolling, and\ncoveting the priceless purple tissue that glowed in the fane of Jupiter\nCapitolinus.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIREFLY\n\n\nA certain Magician had retired for the sake of study to a cottage in a\nforest. It was summer in a hot country. In the trees near the cottage\ndwelt a most beautiful Firefly. The light she bore with her was\ndazzling, yet soft and palpitating, as the evening star, and she seemed\na single flash of fire as she shot in and out suddenly from under the\nscreen of foliage, or like a lamp as she perched panting upon some\nleaf, or hung glowing from some bough; or like a wandering meteor as\nshe eddied gleaming over the summits of the loftiest trees; as she\noften did, for she was an ambitious Firefly. She learned to know the\nMagician, and would sometimes alight and sit shining in his hair, or\ntrail her lustre across his book as she crept over the pages. The\nMagician admired her above all things:\n\n\u201cWhat eyes she would have if she were a woman!\u201d thought he.\n\nOnce he said aloud;\n\n\u201cHow happy you must be, you rare, beautiful, brilliant creature!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not happy,\u201d rejoined the Firefly; \u201cwhat am I, after all, but a\nflying beetle with a candle in my tail? I wish I were a star.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well,\u201d said the Magician, and touched her with his wand, when she\nbecame a beautiful star in the twelfth degree of the sign Pisces.\n\nAfter some nights the Magician asked her if she was content.\n\n\u201cI am not,\u201d replied she. \u201cWhen I was a Firefly I could fly whither I\nwould, and come and go as I pleased. Now I must rise and set at certain\ntimes, and shine just so long and no longer. I cannot fly at all, and\nonly creep slowly across the sky. In the day I cannot shine, or if I do\nno one sees me. I am often darkened by rain, and mist, and cloud. Even\nwhen I shine my brightest I am less admired than when I was a Firefly,\nthere are so many others like me. I see, indeed, people looking up from\nthe earth by night towards me, but how do I know that they are looking\nat me?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe laws of nature will have it so,\u201d returned the Magician.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t talk to me of the laws of Nature,\u201d rejoined the Firefly. \u201cI did\nnot make them, and I don\u2019t see why I should be compelled to obey them.\nMake me something else.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat would you be?\u201d demanded the accommodating Magician.\n\n\u201cAs I creep along here,\u201d replied the Star, \u201cI see such a soft pure\ntrack of light. It proceeds from the lamp in your study. It flows out\nof your window like a river of molten silver, both cool and warm. Let\nme be such a lamp.\u201d\n\n\u201cBe it so,\u201d answered the Magician: and the star became a lovely\nalabaster lamp, set in an alcove in his study. Her chaste radiance was\nshed over his page as long as he continued to read. At a certain hour\nhe extinguished her and retired to rest.\n\nNext morning the Lamp was in a terrible humour.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t choose to be blown out,\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cYou would have gone out of your own accord else,\u201d returned the\nMagician.\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d exclaimed the Lamp, \u201cam I not shining by my own light?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly not: you are not now a Firefly or a Star. You must now\ndepend upon others. You would be dark for ever if I did not rekindle\nyou by the help of this oil.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d cried the Lamp, \u201cnot shine of my own accord! Never! Make me an\neverlasting lamp, or I will not be one at all.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas, poor friend,\u201d returned the Magician sadly, \u201cthere is but one\nplace where aught is everlasting. I can make thee a lamp of the\nsepulchre.\u201d\n\n\u201cContent,\u201d responded the Lamp. And the Magician made her one of those\nstrange occult lamps which men find ever and anon when they unseal the\ntombs of ancient kings and wizards, sustaining without nutriment a\nperpetual flame. And he bore her to a sepulchre where a great king was\nlying embalmed and perfect in his golden raiment, and set her at the\nhead of the corpse. And whether the poor fitful Firefly found at last\nrest in the grave, we may know when we come thither ourselves. But the\nMagician closed the gates of the sepulchre behind him, and walked\nthoughtfully home. And as he approached his cottage, behold another\nFirefly darting and flashing in and out among the trees, as brilliantly\nas ever the first had done. She was a wise Firefly, well satisfied with\nthe world and everything in it, more particularly her own tail. And if\nthe Magician would have made a pet of her no doubt she would have abode\nwith him. But he never looked at her.\n\n\n\n\nPAN\u2019S WAND\n\n\nIridion had broken her lily. A misfortune for any rustic nymph, but\nespecially for her, since her life depended upon it.\n\nFrom her birth the fate of Iridion had been associated with that of a\nflower of unusual loveliness\u2014a stately, candid lily, endowed with a\ncharmed life, like its possessor. The seasons came and went without\nleaving a trace upon it; innocence and beauty seemed as enduring with\nit, as evanescent with the children of men. In equal though dissimilar\nloveliness its frolicsome young mistress nourished by its side. One\nthing alone, the oracle had declared, could prejudice either, and this\nwas an accident to the flower. From such disaster it had long been\nshielded by the most delicate care; yet in the inscrutable counsels of\nthe Gods, the dreaded calamity had at length come to pass. Broken\nthrough the upper part of the stem, the listless flower drooped its\npetals towards the earth, and seemed to mourn their chastity, already\nsullied by the wan flaccidity of decay. Not one had fallen as yet, and\nIridion felt no pain or any symptom of approaching dissolution, except,\nit may be, the unwonted seriousness with which, having exhausted all\nher simple skill on behalf of the languishing plant, she sat down to\nconsider its fate in the light of its bearing upon her own.\n\nMeditation upon an utterly vague subject, whether of apprehension or of\nhope, speedily lapses into reverie. To Iridion, Death was as\nindefinable an object of thought as the twin omnipotent controller of\nhuman destiny, Love. Love, like the immature fruit on the bough, hung\nunsoliciting and unsolicited as yet, but slowly ripening to the\nmaiden\u2019s hand. Death, a vague film in an illimitable sky, tempered\nwithout obscuring the sunshine of her life. Confronted with it\nsuddenly, she found it, in truth, an impalpable cloud, and herself as\nlittle competent as the gravest philosopher to answer the\nself-suggested inquiry, \u201cWhat shall I be when I am no longer Iridion?\u201d\nSuperstition might have helped her to some definite conceptions, but\nsuperstition did not exist in her time. Judge, reader, of its\nremoteness.\n\nThe maiden\u2019s reverie might have terminated only with her existence, but\nfor the salutary law which prohibits a young girl, not in love or at\nschool, from sitting still more than ten minutes. As she shifted her\nseat at the expiration of something like this period, she perceived\nthat she had been sitting on a goatskin, and with a natural association\nof ideas\u2014\n\n\u201cI will ask Pan,\u201d she exclaimed.\n\nPan at that time inhabited a cavern hard by the maiden\u2019s dwelling,\nwhich the judicious reader will have divined could only have been\nsituated in Arcadia. The honest god was on excellent terms with the\nsimple people; his goats browsed freely along with theirs, and the most\nmelodious of the rustic minstrels attributed their proficiency to his\ninstructions. The maidens were on a more reserved footing of\nintimacy\u2014at least so they wished it to be understood, and so it was\nunderstood, of course. Iridion, however, decided that the occasion\nwould warrant her incurring the risk even of a kiss, and lost no time\nin setting forth upon her errand, carrying her poor broken flower in\nits earthen vase. It was the time of day when the god might be supposed\nto be arousing himself from his afternoon\u2019s siesta. She did not fear\nthat his door would be closed against her, for he had no door.\n\nThe sylvan deity stood, in fact, at the entrance of his cavern, about\nto proceed in quest of his goats. The appearance of Iridion operated a\nchange in his intention, and he courteously escorted her to a seat of\nturf erected for the special accommodation of his fair visitors, while\nhe placed for himself one of stone.\n\n\u201cPan,\u201d she began, \u201cI have broken my lily.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is a sad pity, child. If it had been a reed, now, you could have\nmade a flute of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI should not have time, Pan,\u201d and she recounted her story. A godlike\nnature cannot confound truth with falsehood, though it may mistake\nfalsehood for truth. Pan therefore never doubted Iridion\u2019s strange\nnarrative, and, having heard it to the end, observed, \u201cYou will find\nplenty more lilies in Elysium.\u201d\n\n\u201cCommon lilies, Pan; not like mine.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are wrong. The lilies of Elysium\u2014asphodels as they call them\nthere\u2014are as immortal as the Elysians themselves. I have seen them in\nProserpine\u2019s hair at Jupiter\u2019s entertainment; they were as fresh as she\nwas. There is no doubt you might gather them by handfuls\u2014at least if\nyou had any hands\u2014and wear them to your heart\u2019s content, if you had but\na heart.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s just what perplexes me, Pan. It is not the dying I mind, it\u2019s\nthe living. How am I to live without anything alive about me? If you\ntake away my hands, and my heart, and my brains, and my eyes, and my\nears, and above all my tongue, what is left me to live in Elysium?\u201d\n\nAs the maiden spake a petal detached itself from the emaciated lily,\nand she pressed her hand to her brow with a responsive cry of pain.\n\n\u201cPoor child!\u201d said Pan compassionately, \u201cyou will feel no more pain\nby-and-by.\u201d\n\n\u201cI suppose not, Pan, since you say so. But if I can feel no pain, how\ncan I feel any pleasure?\n\n\u201cIn an incomprehensible manner,\u201d said Pan.\n\n\u201cHow can I feel, if I have no feeling? and what am I to do without it?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou can think!\u201d replied Pan. \u201cThinking (not that I am greatly given to\nit myself) is a much finer thing than feeling; no right-minded person\ndoubts that. Feeling, as I have heard Minerva say, is a property of\nmatter, and matter, except, of course, that appertaining to myself and\nthe other happy gods, is vile and perishable\u2014quite immaterial, in fact.\nThought alone is transcendent, incorruptible, and undying!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, Pan, how can any one think thoughts without something to think\nthem with? I never thought of anything that I have not seen, or\ntouched, or smelt, or tasted, or heard about from some one else. If I\nthink with nothing, and about nothing, is that thinking, do you think?\u201d\n\n\u201cI think,\u201d answered Pan evasively, \u201cthat you are a sensationalist, a\nmaterialist, a sceptic, a revolutionist; and if you had not sought the\nassistance of a god, I should have said not much better than an\natheist. I also think it is time I thought about some physic for you\ninstead of metaphysics, which are bad for my head, and for your soul.\u201d\nSaying this, Pan, with rough tenderness, deposited the almost fainting\nmaiden upon a couch of fern, and, having supported her head with a\nbundle of herbs, leaned his own upon his hand, and reflected with all\nhis might. The declining sun was now nearly opposite the cavern\u2019s\nmouth, and his rays, straggling through the creepers that wove their\nintricacies over the entrance, chequered with lustrous patches the\nforms of the dying girl and the meditating god. Ever and anon, a petal\nwould drop from the flower; this was always succeeded by a shuddering\ntremor throughout Iridion\u2019s frame and a more forlorn expression on her\npallid countenance: while Pan\u2019s jovial features assumed an expression\nof deeper concern as he pressed his knotty hand more resolutely against\nhis shaggy forehead, and wrung his dexter horn with a more determined\ngrasp, as though he had caught a burrowing idea by the tail.\n\n\u201cAha!\u201d he suddenly exclaimed, \u201cI have it!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat have you, Pan?\u201d faintly lisped the expiring Iridion.\n\nInstead of replying, Pan grasped a wand that leaned against the wall of\nhis grot, and with it touched the maiden and the flower. O strange\nmetamorphosis! Where the latter had been pining in its vase, a lovely\ngirl, the image of Iridion, lay along the ground with dishevelled hair,\nclammy brow, and features slightly distorted by the last struggles of\ndeath. On the ferny couch stood an earthen vase, from which rose a\nmagnificent lily, stately, with unfractured stem, and with no stain or\nwrinkle on its numerous petals.\n\n\u201cAha!\u201d repeated Pan; \u201cI think we are ready for him now.\u201d Then, having\nlifted the inanimate body to the couch, and placed the vase, with its\ncontents, on the floor of his cavern, he stepped to the entrance, and\nshading his eyes with his hand, seemed to gaze abroad in quest of some\nanticipated visitor.\n\nThe boughs at the foot of the steep path to the cave divided, and a\nfigure appeared at the foot of the rock. The stranger\u2019s mien was\nmajestic, but the fitness of his proportions diminished his really\ncolossal stature to something more nearly the measure of mortality. His\nform was enveloped in a sweeping sad-coloured robe; a light, thin veil\nresting on his countenance, mitigated, without concealing, the not\nungentle austerity of his marble features. His gait was remarkable;\nnothing could be more remote from every indication of haste, yet such\nwas the actual celerity of his progression, that Pan had scarcely\nbeheld him ere he started to find him already at his side.\n\nThe stranger, without disturbing his veil, seemed to comprehend the\nwhole interior of the grotto with a glance; then, with the slightest\ngesture of recognition to Pan, he glided to the couch on which lay the\nmetamorphosed lily, upraised the fictitious Iridion in his arms with\nindescribable gentleness, and disappeared with her as swiftly and\nsilently as he had come. The discreet Pan struggled with suppressed\nmerriment until the stranger was fairly out of hearing, then threw\nhimself back upon his seat and laughed till the cave rang.\n\n\u201cAnd now,\u201d he said, \u201cto finish the business.\u201d He lifted the transformed\nmaiden into the vase, and caressed her beauty with an exulting but\ncareful hand. There was a glory and a splendour in the flower such as\nhad never until then been beheld in any earthly lily. The stem\nvibrated, the leaves shook in unison, the petals panted and suspired,\nand seemed blanched with a whiteness intense as the core of sunlight,\nas they throbbed in anticipation of the richer existence awaiting them.\n\nImpatient to complete his task, Pan was about to grasp his wand when\nthe motion was arrested as the sinking beam of the sun was intercepted\nby a gigantic shadow, and the stranger again stood by his side. The\nunbidden guest uttered no word, but his manner was sufficiently\nexpressive of wrath as he disdainfully cast on the ground a broken,\nwithered lily, the relic of what had bloomed with such loveliness in\nthe morning, and had since for a brief space been arrayed in the\nvesture of humanity. He pointed imperiously to the gorgeous tenant of\nthe vase, and seemed to expect Pan to deliver it forthwith.\n\n\u201cLook here,\u201d said Pan, with more decision than dignity, \u201cI am a poor\ncountry god, but I know the law. If you can find on this plant one\nspeck, one stain, one token that you have anything to do with her, take\nher, and welcome. If you cannot, take yourself off instead.\u201d\n\n\u201cBe it so,\u201d returned the stranger, haughtily declining the proffered\ninspection. \u201cYou will find it is ill joking with Death.\u201d\n\nSo saying, he quitted the cavern.\n\nPan sat down chuckling, yet not wholly at ease, for if the charity of\nDeath is beautiful even to a mortal, his anger is terrible, even to a\ngod. Anxious to terminate the adventure, he reached towards the charmed\nwand by whose wonderful instrumentality the dying maiden had already\nbecome a living flower, and was now to undergo a yet more delightful\nmetamorphosis.\n\nWondrous wand! But where was it? For Death, the great transfigurer of\nall below this lunar sphere, had given Pan a characteristic proof of\nhis superior cunning. Where the wand had reposed writhed a ghastly\nworm, which, as Pan\u2019s glance fell upon it, glided towards him,\nuplifting its head with an aspect of defiance. Pan\u2019s immortal nature\nsickened at the emblem of corruption; he could not for all Olympus have\ntouched his metamorphosed treasure. As he shrank back the creature\npursued its way towards the vase; but a marvellous change befell it as\nit came under the shadow of the flower. The writhing body divided, end\nfrom end, the sordid scales sank indiscernibly into the dust, and an\nexquisite butterfly, arising from the ground, alighted on the lily, and\nremained for a moment fanning its wings in the last sunbeam, ere it\nunclosed them to the evening breeze. Pan, looking eagerly after the\nPsyche in its flight, did not perceive what was taking place in the\ncavern; but the magic wand, now for ever lost to its possessor, must\nhave cancelled its own spell, for when his gaze reverted from the\nineffectual pursuit, the living lily had disappeared, and Iridion lay a\ncorpse upon the ground, the faded flower of her destiny reposing upon\nher breast.\n\nDeath now stood for a third time upon Pan\u2019s threshold, but Pan heeded\nhim not.\n\n\n\n\nA PAGE FROM THE BOOK OF FOLLY\n\n\n\u201cThat owned the virtuous ring and glass.\u201d\n\u2014_Il Penseroso_.\n\nI\n\n\u201cAurelia!\u201d\n\n\u201cOtto!\u201d\n\n\u201cMust we then part?\u201d\n\nThey were folded in each other\u2019s arms. There never was such kissing.\n\n\u201cHow shall we henceforth exchange the sweet tokens of our undying\naffection, my Otto?\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas, my Aurelia, I know not! Thy Otto blushes to acquaint thee that\nhe cannot write.\u201d\n\n\u201cBlush not, my Otto, thou needest not reproach thyself. Even couldest\nthou write, thy Aurelia could not read. Oh these dark ages!\u201d\n\nThey remained some minutes gazing on each other with an expression of\nfond perplexity. Suddenly the damsel\u2019s features assumed the aspect of\none who experiences the visitation of a happy thought. Gently yet\ndecidedly she pronounced:\n\n\u201cWe will exchange rings.\u201d\n\nThey drew off their rings simultaneously. \u201cThis, Aurelia, was my\ngrandfather\u2019s.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis, Otto, was my grandmother\u2019s, which she charged me with her dying\nbreath never to part with save to him whom alone I loved.\u201d\n\n\u201cMine is a brilliant, more radiant than aught save the eyes of my\nAurelia.\u201d\n\nAnd, in fact, Aurelia\u2019s eyes hardly sustained the comparison. A finer\nstone could not easily be found.\n\n\u201cMine is a sapphire, azure as the everlasting heavens, and type of a\nconstancy enduring as they.\u201d\n\nIn truth, it was of a tint seldom to be met with in sapphires.\n\nThe exchange made, the lady seemed less anxious to detain her lover.\n\n\u201cBeware, Otto!\u201d she cried, as he slid down the cord, which yielded him\nan oscillatory transit from her casement to the moat, where he alighted\nknee-deep in mud. \u201cBeware!\u2014if my brother should be gazing from his\nchamber on the resplendent moon!\u201d\n\nBut that ferocious young baron was accustomed to spend his time in a\nless romantic manner; and so it came to pass that Otto encountered him\nnot.\n\nII\n\nDays, weeks, months had passed by, and Otto, a wanderer in a foreign\nland, had heard no tidings of his Aurelia. Ye who have loved may well\nconceive how her ring was all in all to him. He divided his time pretty\nequally between gazing into its cerulean depths, as though her lovely\nimage were mirrored therein, and pressing its chilly surface to his\nlips, little as it recalled the warmth and balminess of hers.\n\nThe burnished glow of gold, the chaste sheen of silver, the dance and\nsparkle of light in multitudinous gems, arrested his attention as he\none evening perambulated the streets of a great city. He beheld a\njeweller\u2019s shop. The grey-headed, spectacled lapidary sat at a bench\nwithin, sedulously polishing a streaked pebble by the light of a small\nlamp. A sudden thought struck Otto; he entered the shop, and,\npresenting the ring to the jeweller, inquired in a tone of suppressed\nexultation:\n\n\u201cWhat hold you for the worth of this inestimable ring?\u201d\n\nThe jeweller, with no expression of surprise or curiosity, received the\nring from Otto, held it to the light, glanced slightly at the stone,\nsomewhat more carefully at the setting, laid the ring for a moment in a\npair of light scales, and, handing it back to Otto, remarked with a\ntone and manner of the most entire indifference:\n\n\u201cThe worth of this inestimable ring is one shilling and sixpence.\u201d\n\n\u201cCaitiff of a huckster!\u201d exclaimed Otto, bringing down his fist on the\nbench with such vigour that the pebbles leaped up and fell rattling\ndown: \u201cSayest thou this of a gem framed by genii in the bowels of the\nearth?\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, friend,\u201d returned the jeweller with the same imperturbable air,\n\u201cthat thy gem was framed of earth I in nowise question, seeing that it\ndoth principally consist of sand. But when thou speakest of genii and\nthe bowels of the earth, thou wilt not, I hope, take it amiss if I\ncrave better proof than thy word that the devil has taken to\nglass-making. For glass, and nothing else, credit me, thy jewel is.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd the gold?\u201d gasped Otto.\n\n\u201cThere is just as much gold in thy ring as sufficeth to gild handsomely\na like superficies of brass, which is not saying much.\u201d\n\nAnd, applying a sponge dipped in some liquid to a small part of the\nhoop, the jeweller disclosed the dull hue of the baser metal so\nevidently that Otto could hardly doubt longer. He doubted no more when\nthe lapidary laid his ring in the scales against another of the same\nsize and make, and pointed to the inequality of the balance.\n\n\u201cThou seest,\u201d he continued, \u201cthat in our craft a very little gold goes\na very great way. It is far otherwise in the world, as thou, albeit in\nno sort eminent for sapience, hast doubtless ere this ascertained for\nthyself. Thou art evidently a prodigious fool!\u201d\n\nThis latter disparaging observation could be safely ventured upon, as\nOtto had rushed from the shop, speechless with rage.\n\nWas Aurelia deceiver or deceived? Should he execrate her, or her\nvenerable grandmother, or some unknown person? The point was too knotty\nto be solved in the agitated state of his feelings. He decided it\nprovisionally by execrating the entire human race, not forgetting\nhimself.\n\nIn a mood like Otto\u2019s a trifling circumstance is sufficient to\ndetermine the quality of action. The ancient city of which he was at\nthe time an inhabitant was traversed by a large river spanned by a\nquaint and many-arched bridge, to which his frantic and aimless\nwanderings had conducted him. Spires and gables and lengthy fa\u00e7ades\nwere reflected in the water, blended with the shadows of boats, and\ninterspersed with the mirrored flames of innumerable windows on land,\nor of lanterns suspended from the masts or sterns of the vessels. The\ndancing ripples bickered and flickered, and seemed to say, \u201cCome hither\nto us,\u201d while the dark reaches of still water in the shadow of the\npiers promised that whatever might be entrusted to them should be\nfaithfully retained. Swayed by a sudden impulse, Otto drew his ring\nfrom his finger. It gleamed an instant aloft in air; in another the\nrelaxation of his grasp would have consigned it to the stream.\n\n\u201cForbear!\u201d\n\nOtto turned, and perceived a singular figure by his side. The stranger\nwas tall and thin, and attired in a dusky cloak which only partially\nconcealed a flame-coloured jerkin. A cock\u2019s feather peaked up in his\ncap; his eyes were piercingly brilliant; his nose was aquiline; the\nexpression of his features sinister and sardonic. Had Otto been more\nobservant, or less preoccupied, he might have noticed that the\nstranger\u2019s left shoe was of a peculiar form, and that he limped some\nlittle with the corresponding foot.\n\n\u201cForbear, I say; thou knowest not what thou doest.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what skills what I do with a piece of common glass?\u201d\n\n\u201cThou errest, friend; thy ring is not common glass. Had thy mistress\nsurmised its mystic virtues, she would have thought oftener than twice\nere exchanging it for thy diamond.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat may these virtues be?\u201d eagerly demanded Otto.\n\n\u201cIn the first place, it will show thee when thy mistress may chance to\nthink of thee, as it will then prick thy finger.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow I know thee for a lying knave,\u201d exclaimed the youth indignantly.\n\u201cLearn, to thy confusion, that it hath not pricked me once since I\nparted from Aurelia.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhich proves that she has never once thought of thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cVillain!\u201d shouted Otto, \u201csay that again, and I will transfix thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou mayest if thou canst,\u201d rejoined the stranger, with an expression\nof such cutting scorn that Otto\u2019s spirit quailed, and he felt a secret\nbut overpowering conviction of his interlocutor\u2019s veracity. Rallying,\nhowever, in some measure, he exclaimed:\n\n\u201cAurelia is true! I will wager my soul upon it!\u201d\n\n\u201cDone!\u201d screamed the stranger in a strident voice of triumph, while a\nburst of diabolical laughter seemed to proceed from every cranny of the\neaves and piers of the old bridge, and to be taken up by goblin echoes\nfrom the summits of the adjacent towers and steeples.\n\nOtto\u2019s blood ran chill, but he mustered sufficient courage to inquire\nhoarsely:\n\n\u201cWhat of its further virtues?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen it shall have pricked thee,\u201d returned the mysterious personage,\n\u201con turning it once completely round thy finger thou wilt see thy\nmistress wherever she may be. If thou turnest it the second time, thou\nwilt know what her thought of thee is; and, if the third time, thou\nwilt find thyself in her presence. But I give thee fair warning that by\ndoing this thou wilt place thyself in a more disastrous plight than any\nthou hast experienced hitherto. And now farewell.\u201d\n\nThe speaker disappeared. Otto stood alone upon the bridge. He saw\nnothing around him but the stream, with its shadows and lights, as he\nslowly and thoughtfully turned round to walk to his lodgings.\n\nIII\n\nYe who have loved, et cetera, as aforesaid, will comprehend the anxiety\nwith which Otto henceforth consulted his ring. He was continually\nadjusting it to his finger in a manner, as he fancied, to render the\nanticipated puncture more perceptible when it should come at last. He\nwould have worn it on all his fingers in succession had the\nconformation of his robust hand admitted of its being placed on any but\nthe slenderest. Thousands of times he could have sworn that he felt the\nadmonitory sting; thousands of times he turned the trinket round and\nround with desperate impatience; but Aurelia\u2019s form remained as\ninvisible, her thoughts as inscrutable, as before. His great dread was\nthat he might be pricked in his sleep, on which account he would sit up\nwatching far into the morn. For, as he reasoned, not without\nplausibility, when could he more rationally hope for a place in\nAurelia\u2019s thoughts than at that witching and suggestive period? She\nmight surely think of him when she had nothing else to do! Had she\nreally nothing else to do? And Otto grew sick and livid with jealousy.\nIt of course frequently occurred to him to doubt and deride the virtues\nof the ring, and he was several times upon the point of flinging it\naway. But the more he pondered upon the appearance and manner of the\nstranger, the less able he felt to resist the conviction of his\ntruthfulness.\n\nAt last a most unmistakable puncture! the distinct, though slight, pang\nof a miniature wound. A crimson bead of blood rose on Otto\u2019s finger,\nswelled to its due proportion, and became a trickling blot.\n\n\u201cShe is thinking of me!\u201d cried he rapturously, as if this were an\ninstance of the most signal and unforeseen condescension. All the weary\nexpectancy of the last six months was forgotten. He would have railed\nat himself had the bliss of the moment allowed him to remember that he\nhad ever railed at her.\n\nOtto turned his ring once, and Aurelia became visible in an instant.\nShe was standing before the mercer\u2019s booth in the chief street of the\nlittle town which adjoined her father\u2019s castle. Her gaze was riveted on\na silk mantle, trimmed with costly furs, which depended from a hook\ninside the doorway. Her lovely features wore an expression of extreme\ndissatisfaction. She was replacing a purse, apparently by no means\nweighty, in her embroidered girdle.\n\nOtto turned the ring the second time, and Aurelia\u2019s silvery accents\nimmediately became audible to the following effect:\n\n\u201cIf that fool Otto were here, he would buy it for me.\u201d\n\nShe turned away, and walked down the street. Otto uttered a cry like\nthe shriek of an uprooted mandrake. His hand was upon the ring to turn\nit for the third time; but the stranger\u2019s warning occurred to him, and\nfor a moment he forbore. In that moment the entire vision vanished from\nbefore his eyes.\n\nWhat boots it to describe Otto\u2019s feelings upon this revelation of\nAurelia\u2019s sentiments? For lovers, description would be needless; to\nwiser people, incomprehensible. Suffice it to say, that as his lady\ndeemed him a fool he appeared bent on proving that she did not deem\namiss.\n\nA long space of time elapsed without any further admonition from the\nring. Perhaps Aurelia had no further occasion for his purse; perhaps\nshe had found another pursebearer. The latter view of the case appeared\nthe more plausible to Otto, and it hugely aggravated his torments.\n\nAt last the moment came. It was the hour of midnight. Again Otto felt\nthe sharp puncture, again the ruby drop started from his finger, again\nhe turned the ring, and again beheld Aurelia. She was in her chamber,\nbut not alone. Her companion was a youth of Otto\u2019s age. She was in the\nact of placing Otto\u2019s brilliant upon his finger. Otto turned his own\nring, and heard her utter, with singular distinctness:\n\n\u201cThis ring was given me by the greatest fool I ever knew. Little did he\nimagine that it would one day be the means of procuring me liberty, and\nbliss in the arms of my Arnold. My venerable grandmother\u2014\u201d\n\nThe voice expired upon her lips, for Otto stood before her.\n\nArnold precipitated himself from the window, carrying the ring with\nhim. Otto, glaring at his faithless mistress, stood in the middle of\nthe apartment with his sword unsheathed. Was he about to use it? None\ncan say; for at this moment the young Baron burst into the room, and,\nwithout the slightest apology for the liberty he was taking, passed his\nsword through Otto\u2019s body.\n\nOtto groaned, and fell upon his face. He was dead. The young Baron\nungently reversed the position of the corpse, and scanned its features\nwith evident surprise and dissatisfaction.\n\n\u201cIt is not Arnold, after all!\u201d he muttered. \u201cWho would have thought\nit?\u201d\n\n\u201cThou seest, brother, how unjust were thy suspicions,\u201d observed\nAurelia, with an air of injured but not implacable virtue. \u201cAs for this\nabominable ravisher\u2014\u2014\u201d Her feelings forbade her to proceed.\n\nThe brother looked mystified. There was something beyond his\ncomprehension in the affair; yet he could not but acknowledge that Otto\nwas the person who had rushed by him as he lay in wait upon the stairs.\nHe finally determined that it was best to say nothing about the matter:\na resolution the easier of performance as he was not wont to be lavish\nof his words at any time. He wiped his sword on his sister\u2019s curtains,\nand was about to withdraw, when Aurelia again spoke:\n\n\u201cEre thou departest, brother, have the goodness to ring the bell, and\ndesire the menials to remove this carrion from my apartment.\u201d\n\nThe young Baron sulkily complied, and retreated growling to his\nchamber.\n\nThe attendants carried Otto\u2019s body forth. To the honour of her sex be\nit recorded, that before this was done Aurelia vouchsafed one glance to\nthe corpse of her old lover. Her eye fell on the brazen ring. \u201cAnd he\nhas actually worn it all this time!\u201d thought she.\n\n\u201cWould have outraged my daughter, would he?\u201d said the old Baron, when\nthe transaction was reported to him. \u201cLet him be buried in a\nconcatenation accordingly.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat the guy dickens be a concatrenation, Geoffrey?\u201d interrogated\nGiles.\n\n\u201cMethinks it is Latin for a ditch,\u201d responded Geoffrey.\n\nThis interpretation commending itself to the general judgment of the\nretainers, Otto was interred in the shelving bank of the old moat, just\nunder Aurelia\u2019s window. A rough stone was laid upon the grave. The\nmagic ring, which no one thought worth appropriating, remained upon the\ncorpse\u2019s finger. Thou mayest probably find it there, reader, if thou\nsearchest long enough.\n\nThe first visitor to Otto\u2019s humble sepulchre was, after all, Aurelia\nherself, who alighted thereon on the following night after letting\nherself down from her casement to fly with Arnold. Their escape was\nsuccessfully achieved upon a pair of excellent horses, the proceeds of\nOtto\u2019s diamond, which had become the property of a Jew.\n\nOn the third night an aged monk stood by Otto\u2019s grave, and wept\nplentifully. He carried a lantern, a mallet, and a chisel. \u201cHe was my\npupil,\u201d sobbed the good old man. \u201cIt were meet to contribute what in me\nlies to the befitting perpetuation of his memory.\u201d\n\nSetting down the lantern, he commenced work, and with pious toil\nengraved on the stone in the Latin of the period:\n\n\u201cHAC MAGNUS STULTUS JACET IN FOSSA SEPULTUS.\nMULIER CUI CREDIDIT MORTUUM ILLUM REDDIDIT.\u201d\n\n\nHere he paused, at the end of his strength and of his Latin.\n\n\u201cBeshrew my old arms and brains!\u201d he sighed.\n\n\u201cHem!\u201d coughed a deep voice in his vicinity.\n\nThe monk looked up. The personage in the dusky cloak and flame-coloured\njerkin was standing over him.\n\n\u201cGood monk,\u201d said the fiend, \u201cwhat dost thou here?\u201d\n\n\u201cGood fiend,\u201d said the monk, \u201cI am inscribing an epitaph to the memory\nof a departed friend. Thou mightest kindly aid me to complete it.\u201d\n\n\u201cTruly,\u201d rejoined the demon, \u201cit would become me to do so, seeing that\nI have his soul here in my pocket. Thou wilt not expect me to employ\nthe language of the Church. Nathless, I see not wherefore the\nvernacular may not serve as well.\u201d\n\nAnd, taking the mallet and chisel, he completed the monk\u2019s inscription\nwith the supplementary legend:\n\n\u201cSERVED HIM RIGHT.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE BELL OF SAINT EUSCHEMON\n\n\nThe town of Epinal, in Lorraine, possessed in the Middle Ages a peal of\nthree bells, respectively dedicated to St. Eulogius, St. Eucherius, and\nSt. Euschemon, whose tintinnabulation was found to be an effectual\nsafeguard against all thunderstorms. Let the heavens be ever so murky,\nit was merely requisite to set the bells ringing, and no lightning\nflashed and no thunder peal broke over the town, nor was the\nneighbouring country within hearing of them ravaged by hail or flood.\n\nOne day the three saints, Eulogius, Eucherius, and Euschemon, were\nsitting together, exceedingly well content with themselves and\neverything around them, as indeed they had every right to be, supposing\nthat they were in Paradise. We say supposing, not being for our own\npart entirely able to reconcile this locality with the presence of\ncertain cans and flagons, which had been fuller than they were.\n\n\u201cWhat a happy reflection for a Saint,\u201d said Eulogius, who was rapidly\npassing from the mellow stage of good fellowship to the maudlin, \u201cthat\neven after his celestial assumption he is permitted to continue a\nsource of blessing and benefit to his fellow-creatures as yet dwelling\nin the shade of mortality! The thought of the services of my bell, in\naverting lightning and inundation from the good people of Epinal, fills\nme with indescribable beatitude.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Your_ bell!\u201d interposed Eucherius, whose path had lain through the\nmellow to the quarrelsome. \u201c_Your_ bell, quotha! You had as good clink\nthis cannakin\u201d (suiting the action to the word) \u201cas your bell. It\u2019s my\nbell that does the business.\u201d\n\n\u201cI think you might put in a word for _my_ bell,\u201d interposed Euschemon,\na little squinting saint, very merry and friendly when not put out, as\non the present occasion.\n\n\u201cYour bell!\u201d retorted the big saints, with incredible disdain; and,\nforgetting their own altercation, they fell so fiercely on their little\nbrother that he ran away, stopping his ears with his hands, and vowing\nvengeance.\n\nA short time after this fracas, a personage of venerable appearance\npresented himself at Epinal, and applied for the post of sacristan and\nbell-ringer, at that time vacant. Though he squinted, his appearance\nwas far from disagreeable, and he obtained the appointment without\ndifficulty. His deportment in it was in all respects edifying; or if he\nevinced some little remissness in the service of Saints Eulogius and\nEucherius, this was more than compensated by his devotion to the\nhitherto somewhat slighted Saint Euschemon. It was indeed observed that\ncandles, garlands, and other offerings made at the shrines of the two\nsenior saints were found to be transferred in an unaccountable and\nmystical manner to the junior, which induced experienced persons to\nremark that a miracle was certainly brewing. Nothing, however, occurred\nuntil, one hot summer afternoon, the indications of a storm became so\nthreatening that the sacristan was directed to ring the bells. Scarcely\nhad he begun than the sky became clear, but instead of the usual rich\nvolume of sound the townsmen heard with astonishment a solitary tinkle,\nsounding quite ridiculous and unsatisfactory in comparison. St.\nEuschemon\u2019s bell was ringing by itself.\n\nIn a trice priests and laymen swarmed to the belfry, and indignantly\ndemanded of the sacristan what he meant.\n\n\u201cTo enlighten you,\u201d he responded. \u201cTo teach you to give honour where\nhonour is due. To unmask those canonised impostors.\u201d\n\nAnd he called their attention to the fact that the clappers of the\nbells of Eulogius and Eucherius were so fastened up that they could not\nemit a sound, while that of Euschemon vibrated freely.\n\n\u201cYe see,\u201d he continued, \u201cthat these sound not at all, yet is the\ntempest stayed. Is it not thence manifest that the virtue resides\nsolely in the bell of the blessed Euschemon?\u201d\n\nThe argument seemed conclusive to the majority, but those of the clergy\nwho ministered at the altars of Eulogius and Eucherius stoutly\nresisted, maintaining that no just decision could be arrived at until\nEuschemon\u2019s bell was subjected to the same treatment as the others.\nTheir view eventually prevailed, to the great dismay of Euschemon, who,\nalthough firmly convinced of the virtue of his own bell, did not in his\nheart disbelieve in the bells of his brethren. Imagine his relief and\namazed joy when, upon his bell being silenced, the storm, for the first\ntime in the memory of the oldest inhabitant, broke with full fury over\nEpinal, and, for all the frantic pealing of the other two bells, raged\nwith unspeakable fierceness until his own was brought into requisition,\nwhen, as if by enchantment, the rain ceased, the thunder-clouds\ndispersed, and the sun broke out gloriously from the blue sky.\n\n\u201cCarry him in procession!\u201d shouted the crowd.\n\n\u201cAmen, brethren; here I am,\u201d rejoined Euschemon, stepping briskly into\nthe midst of the troop.\n\n\u201cAnd why in the name of Zernebock should we carry _you?_\u201d demanded\nsome, while others ran off to lug forth the image, the object of their\ndevotion.\n\n\u201cWhy, verily,\u201d Euschemon began, and stopped short. How indeed was he to\nprove to them that he _was_ Euschemon? His personal resemblance to his\neffigy, the work of a sculptor of the idealistic school, was in no\nrespect remarkable; and he felt, alas! that he could no more work a\nmiracle than you or I. In the sight of the multitude he was only an\nelderly sexton with a cast in his eye, with nothing but his office to\nkeep him out of the workhouse. A further and more awkward question\narose, how on earth was he to get back to Paradise? The ordinary method\nwas not available, for he had already been dead for several centuries;\nand no other presented itself to his imagination.\n\nMuttering apologies, and glad to be overlooked, Euschemon shrank into a\ncorner, but slightly comforted by the honours his image was receiving\nat the hands of the good people of Epinal. As time wore on he became\npensive and restless, and nothing pleased him so well as to ascend to\nthe belfry on moonlight nights, scribbling disparagement on the bells\nof Eulogius and Eucherius, which had ceased to be rung, and patting and\ncaressing his own, which now did duty for all three. With alarm he\nnoticed one night an incipient crack, which threatened to become a\nserious flaw.\n\n\u201cIf this goes on,\u201d said a voice behind him, \u201cI shall get a holiday.\u201d\n\nEuschemon turned round, and with indescribable dismay perceived a\ngigantic demon, negligently resting his hand on the top of the bell,\nand looking as if it would cost him nothing to pitch it and Euschemon\ntogether to the other side of the town.\n\n\u201cAvaunt, fiend,\u201d he stammered, with as much dignity as he could muster,\n\u201cor at least remove thy unhallowed paw from my bell.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome, Eusky,\u201d replied the fiend, with profane familiarity, \u201cdon\u2019t be a\nfool. You are not really such an ass as to imagine that your virtue has\nanything to do with the virtue of this bell?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhose virtue then?\u201d demanded Euschemon.\n\n\u201cWhy truly,\u201d said the demon, \u201cmine! When this bell was cast I was\nimprisoned in it by a potent enchanter, and so long as I am in it no\nstorm can come within sound of its ringing. I am not allowed to quit it\nexcept by night, and then no further than an arm\u2019s length: this,\nhowever, I take the liberty of measuring by my own arm, which happens\nto be a long one. This must continue, as I learn, until I receive a\nkiss from some bishop of distinguished sanctity. Thou hast done some\nbishoping in thy time, peradventure?\u201d\n\nEuschemon energetically protested that he had been on earth but a\nsimple laic, which was indeed the fact, and was also the reason why\nEulogius and Eucherius despised him, but which, though he did not think\nit needful to tell the demon, he found a singular relief under present\ncircumstances.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d continued the fiend, \u201cI wish he may turn up shortly, for I am\nhalf deaf already with the banging and booming of this infernal\nclapper, which seems to have grown much worse of late; and the\nblessings and the crossings and the aspersions which I have to go\nthrough are most repugnant to my tastes, and unsuitable to my position\nin society. Bye-bye, Eusky; come up to-morrow night.\u201d And the fiend\nslipped back into the bell, and instantly became invisible.\n\nThe humiliation of poor Euschemon on learning that he was indebted for\nhis credit to the devil is easier to imagine than to describe. He did\nnot, however, fail at the rendezvous next night, and found the demon\nsitting outside the bell in a most affable frame of mind. It did not\ntake long for the devil and the saint to become very good friends, both\nwanting company, and the former being apparently as much amused by the\nlatter\u2019s simplicity as the latter was charmed by the former\u2019s\nknowingness. Euschemon learned numbers of things of which he had not\nhad the faintest notion. The demon taught him how to play cards (just\ninvented by the Saracens), and initiated him into divers \u201carts, though\nunimagined, yet to be,\u201d such as smoking tobacco, making a book on the\nDerby, and inditing queer stories for Society journals. He drew the\nmost profane but irresistibly funny caricatures of Eulogius and\nEucherius, and the rest of the host of heaven. He had been one of the\ndemons who tempted St. Anthony, and retailed anecdotes of that eremite\nwhich Euschemon had never heard mentioned in Paradise. He was versed in\nall scandal respecting saints in general, and Euschemon found with\nastonishment how much about his own order was known downstairs. On the\nwhole he had never enjoyed himself so much in his life; he became\nproficient in all manner of minor devilries, and was ceasing to trouble\nhimself about his bell or his ecclesiastical duties, when an untoward\nincident interrupted his felicity.\n\nIt chanced that the Bishop of Metz, in whose diocese Epinal was\nsituated, finding himself during a visitation journey within a short\ndistance of the town, determined to put, up there for the night. He did\nnot arrive until nightfall, but word of his intention having been sent\nforward by a messenger the authorities, civil and ecclesiastical, were\nready to receive him. When, escorted in state, he had arrived at the\nhouse prepared for his reception, the Mayor ventured to express a hope\nthat everything had been satisfactory to his Lordship.\n\n\u201cEverything,\u201d said the bishop emphatically. \u201cI did indeed seem to\nremark one little omission, which no doubt may be easily accounted\nfor.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat was that, my Lord?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt hath,\u201d said the bishop, \u201cusually been the practice to receive a\nbishop with the ringing of bells. It is a laudable custom, conducive to\nthe purification of the air and the discomfiture of the prince of the\npowers thereof. I caught no sound of chimes on the present occasion,\nyet I am sensible that my hearing is not what it was.\u201d\n\nThe civil and ecclesiastical authorities looked at each other. \u201cThat\ngraceless knave of a sacristan!\u201d said the Mayor.\n\n\u201cHe hath indeed of late strangely neglected his charge,\u201d said a priest.\n\n\u201cPoor man, I doubt his wits are touched,\u201d charitably added another.\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d exclaimed the bishop, who was very active, very fussy, and a\ngreat stickler for discipline. \u201cThis important church, so renowned for\nits three miraculous bells, confided to the tender mercies of an\nimbecile rogue who may burn it down any night! I will look to it myself\nwithout losing a minute.\u201d\n\nAnd in spite of all remonstrances, off he started. The keys were\nbrought, the doors flung open, the body of the church thoroughly\nexamined, but neither in nave, choir, or chancel could the slightest\ntrace of the sacristan be found.\n\n\u201cPerhaps he is in the belfry,\u201d suggested a chorister.\n\n\u201cWe\u2019ll see,\u201d responded the bishop, and bustling nimbly up the ladder,\nhe emerged into the open belfry in full moonlight.\n\nHeavens! what a sight met his eye! The sacristan and the devil sitting\n_vis-a-vis_ close by the miraculous bell, with a smoking can of hot\nspiced wine between them, finishing a close game of cribbage.\n\n\u201cSeven,\u201d declared Euschemon.\n\n\u201cAnd eight are fifteen,\u201d retorted the demon, marking two.\n\n\u201cTwenty-three and pair,\u201d cried Euschemon, marking in his turn.\n\n\u201cAnd seven is thirty.\u201d\n\n\u201cAce, thirty-one, and I\u2019m up.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt _is_ up with you, my friend,\u201d shouted the bishop, bringing his\ncrook down smartly on Euschemon\u2019s shoulders.\n\n\u201cDeuce!\u201d said the devil, and vanished into his bell.\n\nWhen poor Euschemon had been bound and gagged, which did not take very\nlong, the bishop briefly addressed the assembly. He said that the\naccounts of the bell which had reached his ears had already excited his\napprehensions. He had greatly feared that all could not be right, and\nnow his anxieties were but too well justified. He trusted there was not\na man before him who would not suffer his flocks and his crops to be\ndestroyed by tempest fifty times over rather than purchase their safety\nby unhallowed means. What had been done had doubtless been done in\nignorance, and could be made good by a mulct to the episcopal treasury.\nThe amount of this he would carefully consider, and the people of\nEpinal might rest assured that it should not be too light to entitle\nthem to the benefit of a full absolution. The bell must go to his\ncathedral city, there to be examined and reported on by the exorcists\nand inquisitors. Meanwhile he would himself institute a slight\npreliminary scrutiny.\n\nThe bell was accordingly unhung, tilted up, and inspected by the\ncombined beams of the moonlight and torchlight. Very slight examination\nserved to place the soundness of the bishop\u2019s opinion beyond dispute.\nOn the lip of the bell were engraven characters unknown to every one\nelse, but which seemed to affect the prelate with singular\nconsternation.\n\n\u201cI hope,\u201d he exclaimed, \u201cthat none of you know anything about these\ncharacters! I earnestly trust that none can read a single one of them.\nIf I thought anybody could I would burn him as soon as look at him!\u201d\n\nThe bystanders hastened to assure him that not one of them had the\nslightest conception of the meaning of the letters, which had never\nbeen observed before.\n\n\u201cI rejoice to hear it,\u201d said the bishop. \u201cIt will be an evil day for\nthe church when these letters are understood.\u201d\n\nAnd next morning he departed, carrying off the bell, with the invisible\nfiend inside it; the cards, which were regarded as a book of magic; and\nthe luckless Euschemon, who shortly found himself in total darkness,\nthe inmate of a dismal dungeon.\n\nIt was some time before Euschemon became sensible of the presence of\nany partner in his captivity, by reason of the trotting of the rats. At\nlength, however, a deep sigh struck upon his ear.\n\n\u201cWho art thou?\u201d he exclaimed.\n\n\u201cAn unfortunate prisoner,\u201d was the answer.\n\n\u201cWhat is the occasion of thy imprisonment?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, a mere trifle. A ridiculous suspicion of sacrificing a child to\nBeelzebub. One of the little disagreeables that must occasionally occur\nin our profession.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Our_ profession!\u201d exclaimed Euschemon.\n\n\u201cArt thou not a sorcerer?\u201d demanded the voice.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d replied Euschemon, \u201cI am a saint.\u201d\n\nThe warlock received Euschemon\u2019s statement with much incredulity, but\nbecoming eventually convinced of its truth\u2014\n\n\u201cI congratulate thee,\u201d he said. \u201cThe devil has manifestly taken a fancy\nto thee, and he never forgets his own. It is true that the bishop is a\ngreat favourite with him also. But we will hope for the best. Thou hast\nnever practised riding a broomstick? No? \u2019Tis pity; thou mayest have to\nmount one at a moment\u2019s notice.\u201d\n\nThis consolation had scarcely been administered ere the bolts flew\nback, the hinges grated, the door opened, and gaolers bearing torches\ninformed the sorcerer that the bishop desired his presence.\n\nHe found the bishop in his study, which was nearly choked up by\nEuschemon\u2019s bell. The prelate received him with the greatest\naffability, and expressed a sincere hope that the very particular\narrangements he had enjoined for the comfort of his distinguished\nprisoner had been faithfully carried out by his subordinates. The\nsorcerer, as much a man of the world as the bishop, thanked his\nLordship, and protested that he had been perfectly comfortable.\n\n\u201cI have need of thy art,\u201d said the bishop, coming to business. \u201cI am\nexceedingly bothered\u2014flabbergasted were not too strong an expression\u2014by\nthis confounded bell. All my best exorcists have been trying all they\nknow with it, to no purpose. They might as well have tried to exorcise\nmy mitre from my head by any other charm than the offer of a better\none. Magic is plainly the only remedy, and if thou canst disenchant it,\nI will give thee thy freedom.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt will be a tough business,\u201d observed the sorcerer, surveying the\nbell with the eye of a connoisseur. \u201cIt will require fumigations.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said the bishop, \u201cand suffumigations.\u201d\n\n\u201cAloes and mastic,\u201d advised the sorcerer.\n\n\u201cAye,\u201d assented the bishop, \u201cand red sanders.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe must call in Primeumaton,\u201d said the warlock.\n\n\u201cClearly,\u201d said the bishop, \u201cand Amioram.\u201d\n\n\u201cTriangles,\u201d said the sorcerer.\n\n\u201cPentacles,\u201d said the bishop.\n\n\u201cIn the hour of Methon,\u201d said the sorcerer.\n\n\u201cI should have thought Tafrac,\u201d suggested the bishop, \u201cbut I defer to\nyour better judgment.\u201d\n\n\u201cI can have the blood of a goat?\u201d queried the wizard.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said the bishop, \u201cand of a monkey also.\u201d\n\n\u201cDoes your Lordship think that one might venture to go so far as a\nlittle unweaned child?\u201d\n\n\u201cIf absolutely necessary,\u201d said the bishop.\n\n\u201cI am delighted to find such liberality of sentiment on your Lordship\u2019s\npart,\u201d said the sorcerer. \u201cYour Lordship is evidently of the\nprofession.\u201d\n\n\u201cThese are things which stuck by me when I was an inquisitor,\u201d\nexplained the bishop, with some little embarrassment.\n\nEre long all arrangements were made. It would be impossible to\nenumerate half the crosses, circles, pentagrams, naked swords,\ncross-bones, chafing-dishes, and vials of incense which the sorcerer\nfound to be necessary. The child was fortunately deemed superfluous.\nEuschemon was brought up from his dungeon, and, his teeth chattering\nwith fright and cold, set beside his bell to hold a candle to the\ndevil. The incantations commenced, and speedily gave evidence of their\nefficacy. The bell trembled, swayed, split open, and a female figure of\ntranscendent loveliness attired in the costume of Eve stepped forth and\nextended her lips towards the bishop. What could the bishop do but\nsalute them? With a roar of triumph the demon resumed his proper shape.\nThe bishop swooned. The apartment was filled with the fumes of sulphur.\nThe devil soared majestically out of the window, carrying the sorcerer\nunder one arm and Euschemon under the other.\n\nIt is commonly believed that the devil good-naturedly dropped Euschemon\nback again into Paradise, or wheresoever he might have come from. It is\neven added that he fell between Eulogius and Eucherius, who had been\narguing all the time respecting the merits of their bells, and resumed\nhis share in the discussion as if nothing had happened. Some maintain,\nindeed, that the devil, chancing to be in want of a chaplain, offered\nthe situation to Euschemon, by whom it was accepted. But how to\nreconcile this assertion with the undoubted fact that the duties of the\npost in question are at present ably discharged by the Bishop of Metz,\nin truth we see not. One thing is certain: thou wilt not find\nEuschemon\u2019s name in the calendar, courteous reader.\n\nThe mulct to be imposed upon the parish of Epinal was never exacted.\nThe bell, ruptured beyond repair by the demon\u2019s violent exit, was taken\nback and deposited in the museum of the town. The bells of Eulogius and\nEucherius were rung freely on occasion; but Epinal has not since\nenjoyed any greater immunity from storms than the contiguous districts.\nOne day an aged traveller, who had spent many years in Heathenesse and\nin whom some discerned a remarkable resemblance to the sorcerer,\nnoticed the bell, and asked permission to examine it. He soon\ndiscovered the inscription, recognised the mysterious characters as\nGreek, read them without the least difficulty\u2014\n\n\u201c\u039c\u03b7 \u03ba\u03b9\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9 \u039a\u03b1\u03bc\u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1\u03bd \u03b1\u03ba\u03b9\u03bd\u03b7\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u03b1\u03bc\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd\u2014\u201d\n\nand favoured the townsmen with this free but substantially accurate\ntranslation:\u2014\n\n\u201cCANp\u2019T YOU LET WELL ALONE?\u201d\n\n\n\n\nBISHOP ADDO AND BISHOP GADDO\n\n\nMidday, midsummer, middle of the dark ages. Fine healthy weather at the\ncity of Biserta in Barbary. Wind blowing strong from the sea,\nroughening the dark blue waters, and fretting their indigo with foam,\nas though the ocean\u2019s coursers champed an invisible curb. On land tawny\nsand whirling, green palm-fans swaying and whistling, men abroad in the\nnoonday blaze rejoicing in the unwonted freshness.\n\n\u201cShe is standing in,\u201d they cried, \u201cand, by the Prophet, she seemeth not\na ship of the true believers.\u201d\n\nShe was not, but she bore a flag of truce. Pitching and rearing, the\nlittle bark bounded in, and soon was fast in harbour. Ere long\nmessengers of peace had landed, bearing presents and a letter from the\nBishop of Amalfi to the Emir of Biserta. The presents consisted of\nfifty casks of Lacrima Christi, and of a captive, a tall, noble-looking\nman, in soiled ecclesiastical costume, and disfigured by the loss of\nhis left eye, which seemed to have been violently plucked out.\n\n\u201cHealth to the Emir!\u201d ran the letter. \u201cI send thee my captive, Gaddo,\nsometime Bishop of Amalfi, now an ejected intruder. For what saith the\nScripture? \u2018When a strong man armed keepeth his palace, his goods are\nin peace; but if one stronger than he cometh, he divideth the spoils.\u2019\nMoreover it is written: \u2018His bishopric let another take.\u2019 Having\nsolemnly sworn that I would not kill or blind or maim my enemy, or\nimprison him in a monastery, and the price of absolution from an oath\nin this corrupt age exceeding all reason and Christian moderation, I\nknew not how to take vengeance on him, until a sagacious counsellor\nrepresented that a man cannot be said to be blinded so long as he is\ndeprived of only one eye. This I accordingly eradicated, and now, being\nrestrained from imprisoning him, and fearing to release him, I send him\nto thee, to retain in captivity on my behalf; in return for which\nservice, receive fifty casks of the choicest Lacrima Christi, which\nshall not fail to be sent thee yearly, so long as Gaddo continues in\nthy custody.\n\n\u201c+ Addo, by Divine permission Bishop of Amalfi.\u201d\n\n\u201cFirst,\u201d said the Emir, \u201cI would be certified whether this vintage is\nindeed of such excellence as to prevail upon a faithful Mussulman to\njeopard Paradise, the same being forbidden by his law.\u201d\n\nExperiments were instituted forthwith, and the problem was resolved in\nthe affirmative.\n\n\u201cThis being so,\u201d declared the Emir, \u201chonour and good faith towards\nBishop Addo require that Bishop Gaddo be kept captive with all possible\nstrictness. Yet bolts may be burst, fetters may be filed, walls may be\nscaled, doors may be broken through. Better to enchain the captive\u2019s\nsoul, binding him with invisible bonds, and searing out of him the very\nwish to escape. Embrace the faith of the Prophet,\u201d continued he,\naddressing Gaddo; \u201cbecome a Mollah.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said the deposed Bishop, \u201cmy inclination hath ever been towards a\nmilitary life. At present, mutilated and banished as I am, I rather\naffect the crown of martyrdom.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou shalt receive it by instalments,\u201d said the Emir. \u201cThou shalt work\nat the new pavilion in my garden.\u201d\n\nUnceasing toil under the blazing sun, combined with the discipline of\nthe overseers, speedily wore down Gaddo\u2019s strength, already impaired by\ncaptivity and ill-treatment. Unable to drag himself away after his\nfellow-workmen had ceased from their labours, he lay one evening, faint\nand almost senseless, among the stones and rubbish of the unfinished\nedifice. The Emir\u2019s daughter passed by. Gaddo was handsome and\nwretched, the Princess was beautiful and compassionate. Conveyed by her\nfair hands, a cup of Bishop Addo\u2019s wine saved Bishop Gaddo\u2019s life.\n\nThe next evening Gaddo again lingered behind, and the Princess spoke to\nhim out of her balcony. The third evening they encountered in an\narbour. The next meeting took place in her chamber, where her father\ndiscovered them.\n\n\u201cI will tear thee to pieces with pincers,\u201d shouted he to Gaddo.\n\n\u201cYour Highness will not be guilty of that black action,\u201d responded\nGaddo resolutely.\n\n\u201cNo?\u201d roared the Emir. \u201cNo? and what shall hinder me?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Lacrima Christi will hinder your Highness,\u201d returned the\nfar-seeing Gaddo. \u201cDeems your Highness that Bishop Addo will send\nanother cupful, once he is assured of my death?\u201d\n\n\u201cThou sayest well,\u201d rejoined the Emir. \u201cI may not slay thee. But my\ndaughter is manifestly most inflammable, wherefore I will burn her.\u201d\n\n\u201cWere it not better to circumcise me?\u201d suggested Gaddo.\n\nMany difficulties were raised, but Ayesha\u2019s mother siding with Gaddo,\nand promising a more amicable deportment for the future towards the\nother lights of the harem, the matter was arranged, and Gaddo recited\nthe Mahometan profession of faith, and became the Emir\u2019s son-in-law.\nThe execrable social system under which he had hitherto lived thus\nvanished like a nightmare from an awakened sleeper. Wedded to one who\nhad saved his life by her compassion, and whose life he had in turn\nsaved by his change of creed, adoring her and adored by her, with the\nhope of children, and active contact with multitudes of other interests\nfrom which he had hitherto been estranged, he forgot the ecclesiastic\nin the man; his intellect expanded, his ideas multiplied, he cleared\nhis mind of cant, and became an eminent philosopher.\n\n\u201cDear son,\u201d said the Emir to him one day, \u201cthe Lacrima is spent, we\nthirst, and the tribute of that Christian dog, the Bishop of Amalfi,\ntarries to arrive. We will presently fit out certain vessels, and thou\nshalt hold a visitation of thine ancient diocese.\u201d\n\n\u201cMethinks I see a ship even now,\u201d said Gaddo; and he was right. She\nanchored, the ambassadors landed and addressed the Emir:\n\n\u201cPrince, we bring thee the stipulated tribute, yet not without a\ntrifling deduction.\u201d\n\n\u201cDeduction!\u201d exclaimed the Emir, bending his brows ominously.\n\n\u201cHighness,\u201d they represented, \u201cby reason of the deficiency of last\nyear\u2019s vintage it hath not been possible to provide more than\nforty-nine casks, which we crave to offer thee accordingly.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d pronounced the Emir sententiously, \u201cthe compact is broken, the\nship is confiscated, and war is declared.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot so, Highness,\u201d said they, \u201cfor the fiftieth cask is worth all the\nrest.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet it be opened,\u201d commanded the Emir.\n\nIt was accordingly hoisted out, deposited on the quay, and prized open;\nand from its capacious interior, in a deplorable plight from hunger,\ncramp, and sea-sickness, was extracted\u2014Bishop Addo.\n\n\u201cWe have,\u201d explained the deputation, \u201cwearied of our shepherd, who,\nshearing his flock somewhat too closely, hath brought the wolf to\nlight. We therefore desire thee to receive him at our hands in exchange\nfor our good Bishop Gaddo, promising one hundred casks of Lacrima\nChristi as yearly tribute for the future.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe stands before you,\u201d answered the Emir; \u201ctake him, an ye can prevail\nupon him to return with you.\u201d\n\nThe eyes of the envoys wandered hopelessly from one whiskered,\nturbaned, caftaned, and yataghaned figure to another. They could not\ndiscover that any of the Paynim present looked more or less like a\nbishop than his fellows.\n\n\u201cBrethren,\u201d said Gaddo, taking compassion on their bewilderment,\n\u201cbehold me! I thank you for your kindly thought of me, but how to\nprofit by it I see not. I have become a Saracen. I have pronounced the\nMahometan confession. I am circumcised. I am known by the name of\nMustapha.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe acknowledge the weight of your Lordship\u2019s objections,\u201d they said,\n\u201cand do but venture to hint remotely that the times are hard, and that\nthe Holy Father is grievously in want of money.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have also taken a wife,\u201d said Gaddo.\n\n\u201cA wife!\u201d exclaimed they with one consent. \u201cIf it had been a concubine!\nLet us return instantly.\u201d\n\nThey gathered up their garments and spat upon the ground.\n\n\u201cA bishop, then,\u201d inquired Gaddo, \u201cmay be guilty of any enormity sooner\nthan wedlock, which money itself cannot expiate?\u201d\n\n\u201cSuch,\u201d they answered, \u201cis the law and the prophets.\u201d\n\n\u201cUnless,\u201d added one of benignant aspect, \u201che sew the abomination up in\na sack and cast her into the sea, then peradventure he may yet find\nplace for repentance.\u201d\n\n\u201cMiserable blasphemers!\u201d exclaimed Gaddo. \u201cBut why,\u201d continued he,\nchecking himself, \u201cdo I talk of what none will understand for five\nhundred years, which to understand myself I was obliged to become a\nSaracen? Addo,\u201d he pursued, addressing his dejected competitor, \u201cbad as\nthou art, thou art good enough for the world as it is. I spare thy\nlife, restore thy dignity, and, to prove that the precepts of Christ\nmay be practised under the garb of Mahomet, will not even exact eye for\neye. Yet, as a wholesome admonition to thee that treachery and cruelty\nescape not punishment even in this life, I will that thou do presently\nsurrender to me thy left ear. Restore my eye and I will return it\nimmediately. And ye,\u201d addressing the envoys, \u201cwill for the future pay\none hundred casks tribute, unless ye would see my father-in-law\u2019s\ngalleys on your coasts.\u201d\n\nSo Addo returned to his bishopric, leaving his ear in Gaddo\u2019s keeping.\nThe Lacrima was punctually remitted, and as punctually absorbed by the\nEmir and his son-in-law, with some little help from Ayesha. Gaddo\u2019s eye\nnever came back, and Addo never regained his ear until, after the\nex-prelate\u2019s death in years and honour, he ransomed it from his\nrepresentatives. It became a relic, and is shown in Addo\u2019s cathedral to\nthis day in proof of his inveterate enmity to the misbelievers, and of\nthe sufferings he underwent at their hands. But Gaddo trumped him, the\nentry after his name in the episcopal register, \u201cFled to the Saracens,\u201d\nhaving been altered into \u201cFlayed by the Saracens\u201d by a later bishop,\njealous of the honour of the diocese.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PHILOSOPHER AND THE BUTTERFLIES\n\n\nThe scene was in a garden on a fine summer morning, brilliant with\nslants of sunshine, yet chequered with clouds significant of more than\na remote possibility of rain. All the animal world was astir. Birds\nflitted or hopped from spray to spray; butterflies eddied around\nflowers within or upon which bees were bustling; ants and earwigs ran\nnimbly about on the mould; a member of the Universal Knowledge Society\nperambulated the gravel path.\n\nThe Universal Knowledge Society, be it understood, exists for the\ndissemination and not for the acquisition of knowledge. Our\nphilosopher, therefore, did not occupy himself with considering whether\nin that miniature world, with its countless varieties of animal and\nvegetable being, something might not be found with which he was himself\nunacquainted; but, like the honey-freighted bee, rather sought an\nopportunity of disburdening himself of his stores of information than\nof adding to them. But who was to profit by his communicativeness? The\nnoisy birds could not hear themselves speak, much less him; he shrewdly\ndistrusted his ability to command the attention of the busy bees; and\neven a member of the Universal Knowledge Society may well be at a loss\nfor a suitable address to an earwig. At length he determined to accost\na Butterfly who, after sipping the juice of a flower, remained perched\nindolently upon it, apparently undecided whither to direct his flight.\n\n\u201cIt seems likely to rain,\u201d he said, \u201chave you an umbrella?\u201d\n\nThe Butterfly looked curiously at him, but returned no answer.\n\n\u201cI do not ask,\u201d resumed the Philosopher, \u201cas one who should imply that\nthe probability of even a complete saturation ought to appal a\nratiocinative being, endowed with wisdom and virtue. I rather designed\nto direct your attention to the inquiry whether these attributes are,\nin fact, rightly predicable of Butterflies.\u201d\n\nStill no answer.\n\n\u201cAn impression obtains among our own species,\u201d continued the\nPhilosopher, \u201cthat you Butterflies are deficient in foresight and\nprovidence to a remarkable, I might almost say a culpable degree.\nPardon me if I add that this suspicion is to some extent confirmed by\nmy finding you destitute of protection against imbriferous inclemency\nunder atmospheric conditions whose contingent humidity should be\nobvious to a being endowed with the most ordinary allotment of\nmeteorological prevision.\u201d\n\nThe Butterfly still left all the talk to the Philosopher. This was just\nwhat the latter desired.\n\n\u201cI greatly fear,\u201d he continued, \u201cthat the omission to which I have\nreluctantly adverted is to a certain extent typically characteristic of\nthe entire political and social economy of the lepidopterous order. It\nhas even been stated, though the circumstance appears scarcely\ncredible, that your system of life does not include the accumulation of\nadequate resources against the inevitable exigencies of winter.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is winter?\u201d asked the Butterfly, and flew off without awaiting an\nanswer.\n\nThe Philosopher remained for a moment speechless, whether from\namazement at the Butterfly\u2019s nescience or disgust at his ill-breeding.\nRecovering himself immediately, he shouted after the fugitive:\n\n\u201cFrivolous animal!\u201d \u201cIt is this levity,\u201d continued he, addressing a\ngroup of butterflies who had gradually assembled in the air, attracted\nby the conversation, \u201cit is this fatal levity that constrains me to\ndespair wholly of the future of you insects. That you should\npersistently remain at your present depressed level! That you should\nnot immediately enter upon a process of self-development! Look at the\nBee! How did she acquire her sting, think you? Why cannot you store up\nhoney, as she does?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe cannot build cells,\u201d suggested a Butterfly.\n\n\u201cAnd how did the Bee learn, do you suppose, unless by imbuing her mind\nwith the elementary principles of mathematics? Know that time has been\nwhen the Bee was as incapable of architectural construction as\nyourselves, when you and she alike were indiscriminable particles of\nprimary protoplasm. (I suppose you know what that is.) One has in\nprocess of time exalted itself to the cognition of mathematical truth,\nwhile the other\u2014Pshaw! Now, really, my friends, I must beg you to take\nmy observations in good part. I do not imply, of course, that any\nendeavours of yours in the direction I have indicated could benefit any\nof you personally, or any of your posterity for numberless generations.\nBut I really do consider that after a while its effects would be very\nobservable\u2014that in twenty millions of years or so, provided no\ngeological cataclysm supervened, you Butterflies, with your innate\ngenius for mimicry, might be conformed in all respects to the\nhymenopterous model, or perhaps carry out the principle of development\ninto novel and unheard-of directions. You should derive much\nencouragement from the beginning you have made already.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow a beginning?\u201d inquired a Butterfly.\n\n\u201cI am alluding to your larval constitution as Caterpillars,\u201d returned\nthe Philosopher. \u201cYour advance upon that humiliating condition is, I\nadmit, remarkable. I only wonder that it should not have proceeded much\nfurther. With such capacity for development, it is incomprehensible\nthat you should so long have remained stationary. You ought to be all\ntoads by this time, at the very least.\u201d\n\n\u201cI beg your pardon,\u201d civilly interposed the Butterfly. \u201cTo what\ncondition were you pleased to allude?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo that of a Caterpillar,\u201d rejoined the Philosopher.\n\n\u201cCaterpillar!\u201d echoed the Butterfly, and \u201cCaterpillar!\u201d tittered all\nhis volatile companions, till the air seemed broken into little silvery\nwaves of fairy laughter. \u201cCaterpillar! he positively thinks we were\nonce Caterpillars! He! he! he!\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you actually mean to say you don\u2019t know that?\u201d responded the\nPhilosopher, scandalised at the irreverence of the insects, but\ninwardly rejoicing at the prospect of a controversy in which he could\nnot be worsted.\n\n\u201cWe know nothing of the sort,\u201d rejoined a Butterfly.\n\n\u201cCan you possibly be plunged into such utter oblivion of your embryonic\nantecedents?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe do not understand you. All we know is that we have always been\nButterflies.\u201d\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d said a large, dull-looking Butterfly with one wing in tatters,\ncrawling from under a cabbage, and limping by reason of the deficiency\nof several legs, \u201clet me entreat you not to deduce our scientific\nstatus from the inconsiderate assertions of the unthinking vulgar. I am\nproud to assure you that our race comprises many philosophical\nreasoners\u2014mostly indeed such as have been disabled by accidental\ninjuries from joining in the amusements of the rest. The Origin of our\nSpecies has always occupied a distinguished place in their\ninvestigations. It has on several occasions engaged the attention of\nour profoundest thinkers for not less than two consecutive minutes.\nThere is hardly a quadruped on the land, a bird in the air, or a fish\nin the water to which it has not been ascribed by some one at some\ntime; but never, I am rejoiced to say, has any Butterfly ever dreamed\nof attributing it to the obnoxious thing to which you have\nunaccountably made reference.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe should rather think not,\u201d chorussed all the Butterflies.\n\n\u201cLook here,\u201d said the Philosopher, picking up and exhibiting a large\nhairy Caterpillar of very unprepossessing appearance. \u201cLook here, what\ndo you call this?\u201d\n\n\u201cAn abnormal organisation,\u201d said the scientific Butterfly.\n\n\u201cA nasty beast,\u201d said the others.\n\n\u201cHeavens,\u201d exclaimed the Philosopher, \u201cthe obtuseness and arrogance of\nthese creatures! No, my poor friend,\u201d continued he, addressing the\nCaterpillar, \u201cdisdain you as they may, and unpromising as your aspect\ncertainly is at present, the time is at hand when you will prank it\nwith the gayest of them all.\u201d\n\n\u201cI cry your mercy,\u201d rejoined the Caterpillar somewhat crossly, \u201cbut I\nwas digesting a gooseberry leaf when you lifted me in that abrupt\nmanner, and I did not quite follow your remarks. Did I understand you\nto mention my name in connection with those flutterers?\u201d\n\n\u201cI said the time would arrive when you would be even as they.\u201d\n\n\u201cI,\u201d exclaimed the Caterpillar, \u201cI retrograde to the level of a\nButterfly! Is not the ideal of creation impersonated in me already?\u201d\n\n\u201cI was not aware of that,\u201d replied the Philosopher, \u201calthough,\u201d he\nadded in a conciliatory tone, \u201cfar be it from me to deny you the\npossession of many interesting qualities.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou probably refer to my agility,\u201d suggested the Caterpillar; \u201cor\nperhaps to my abstemiousness?\u201d\n\n\u201cI was not referring to either,\u201d returned the Philosopher.\n\n\u201cTo my utility to mankind?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot by any manner of means.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo what then?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, if you must know, the best thing about you appears to me to be\nthe prospect you enjoy of ultimately becoming a Butterfly.\u201d\n\nThe Caterpillar erected himself upon his tail, and looked sternly at\nthe Philosopher. The Philosopher\u2019s countenance fell. A thrush, darting\nfrom an adjacent tree, seized the opportunity and the insect, and bore\nthe latter away in his bill. At the same moment the shower\nprognosticated by the Sage burst forth, scattering the Butterflies in\nall directions, drenching the Philosopher, whose foresight had not\nassumed the shape of an umbrella, and spoiling his new hat. But he had\nample consolation in the superiority of his head. And the Caterpillar\nwas right too, for after all he never did become a Butterfly.\n\n\n\n\nTRUTH AND HER COMPANIONS\n\n\n_Jupiter._ Daughter Truth, is this a befitting manner of presenting\nyourself before your divine father? You are positively dripping; the\nfloor of my celestial mansion would be a swamp but for your\npraiseworthy economy in wearing apparel. Whence, in the name of the\nNaiads, do you come?\n\n_Truth._ From the bottom of a well, father.\n\n_Jupiter._ I thought, my daughter, that you had descended upon earth in\nthe capacity of a benefactress of men rather than of frogs.\n\n_Truth._ Such, indeed, was my purpose, father, and I accordingly\nrepaired to the great city.\n\n_Jupiter._ The city of the Emperor Apollyon?\n\n_Truth._ The same; and I there obtained an audience of the monarch.\n\n_Jupiter._ What passed?\n\n_Truth._ I took the liberty of observing to him, father, that, having\nobtained his throne by perjury, and cemented it by blood, and\nmaintained it by hypocrisy, he could entertain no hope of preserving it\nunless the collective baseness of his subjects should be found to\nexceed his own, which was not probable.\n\n_Jupiter._ What reply did he vouchsafe to these admonitions?\n\n_Truth_. He threatened to cut out my tongue. Perceiving that this would\ninterfere with my utility to mankind, I retired somewhat precipitately\nfrom the Imperial presence, marvelling that I should ever have been\nadmitted, and resolved never to be found there for the future. I then\nproceeded to the Nobles.\n\n_Jupiter_. What said you to them?\n\n_Truth_. I represented to them that they were, as a class, both\narrogant and luxurious, and would, indeed, have long ago become\ninsupportable, only that the fabric which their rapacity was for ever\nstriving to erect, their extravagance as perpetually undermined. I\nfurther commented upon the insecurity of any institution dependent\nsolely upon prescription. Finding these suggestions unpalatable, I next\naddressed myself to the priesthood.\n\n_Jupiter_. Those holy men, my daughter, must have rejoiced at the\nopportunity of learning from you which portion of their traditions was\nimpure or fabricated, and which authentic and sublime.\n\n\n_Truth_. The value they placed upon my instructions was such that they\nwished to reserve them exclusively for themselves, and proposed that\nthey should be delivered within the precincts of a certain subterranean\napartment termed a dungeon, the key of which should be kept by one of\ntheir order. Whereupon I betook myself to the philosophers.\n\n_Jupiter_. Your reception from these professed lovers of wisdom, my\ndaughter, was, no doubt, all that could be expected.\n\n_Truth_. It was all that could be expected, my father, from learned and\nvirtuous men, who had already framed their own systems of the universe\nwithout consulting me.\n\n_Jupiter._ You probably next addressed yourself to the middling orders\nof society?\n\n_Truth._ I can scarcely say that I did, father; for although I had much\nto remark concerning their want of culture, and their servility, and\ntheir greed, and the absurdity of many of their customs, and the\nrottenness of most of their beliefs, and the thousand ways in which\nthey spoiled lives that might have been beautiful and harmonious, I\nsoon discovered that they were so absolutely swayed by the example of\nthe higher orders that it was useless to expostulate with them until I\nshould have persuaded the latter.\n\n_Jupiter._ You returned, then, to the latter with this design?\n\n_Truth._ On the contrary, I hastened to the poor and needy, whom I\nfully acquainted with the various wrongs and oppressions which they\nunderwent at the hands of the powerful and the rich. And here, for the\nfirst time, I found myself welcome. All listened with gratitude and\nassent, and none made any endeavour to stone me or imprison me, as\nthose other unprincipled persons had done.\n\n_Jupiter._ That was indeed satisfactory, daughter. But when you\nproceeded to point out to these plebeians how much of their misery\narose from their own idleness, and ignorance, and dissoluteness, and\nabasement before those higher in station, and jealousy of the best\namong themselves\u2014what said they to that?\n\n_Truth._ They expressed themselves desirous of killing me, and indeed\nwould have done so if my capital enemies, the priests, had not been\nbeforehand with them.\n\n_Jupiter_. What did they?\n\n_Truth_. Burned me.\n\n_Jupiter_. Burned you?\n\n_Truth_. Burned me in the market-place. And, but for my peculiar\nproperty of reviving from my ashes, I should not be here now. Upon\nreconsolidating myself, I felt in such a heat that I was fain to repair\nto the bottom of the nearest well. Finding myself more comfortable\nthere than I had ever yet been on earth, I have come to ask permission\nto remain.\n\n_Jupiter_. It does not appear to me, daughter, that the mission you\nhave undertaken on behalf of mankind can be efficiently discharged at\nthe bottom of a well.\n\n_Truth_. No, father, nor in the middle of a fire either.\n\n_Jupiter_. I fear that you are too plain and downright in your dealings\nwith men, and deter where you ought to allure.\n\n_Truth_. I were not Truth, else, but Flattery. My nature is a\nmirror\u2019s\u2014to exhibit reality with plainness and faithfulness.\n\n_Jupiter_. It is no less the nature of man to shatter every mirror that\ndoes not exhibit to him what he wishes to behold.\n\n_Truth_. Let me, therefore, return to my well, and let him who wishes\nto behold me, if such there be, repair to the brink and look down.\n\n_Jupiter_. No, daughter, you shall not return to your well. I have\nalready perceived that you are not of yourself sufficient for the\noffice I have assigned to you, and I am about to provide you with two\nauxiliaries. You are Truth. Tell me how this one appears to you.\n\n_Truth_. Oh, father, the beautiful nymph! how mature, and yet how\ncomely! how good-humoured, yet how gentle and grave! Her robe is\nclosely zoned; her upraised finger approaches her lip; her foot falls\nsoft as snow. What is her name?\n\n_Jupiter_. Discretion. And this other?\n\n_Truth_. Oh, father! the cordial look, the blooming cheek, the bright\nsmile that is almost a laugh, the buoyant step, and the expansive\nbosom! What name bears she?\n\n_Jupiter_. Good Nature. Return, my daughter, to earth; continue to\nenlighten man\u2019s ignorance and to reprove his folly; but let Discretion\nsuggest the occasion, and Good Nature inspire the wording of your\nadmonitions. I cannot engage that you may not, even with these\nprecautions, sometimes pay a visit to the stake; and if, when an\nadventure of this sort appears imminent, Discretion should counsel a\ntemporary retirement to your well, I am sure Good Nature will urge\nnothing to the contrary.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THREE PALACES\n\n\nThree pairs of young people, each a youth with his bride, came together\nalong a road to the point where it divided to the right and left. On\none side was inscribed, \u201cTo the Palace of Truth,\u201d and on the other, \u201cTo\nthe Palace of Illusion.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis way, my beauty!\u201d cried one of the youths, drawing his companion\nin the direction of the Palace of Truth. \u201cTo the place where and where\nalone thy perfections may be beheld as they are!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd my imperfections!\u201d whispered the young spouse, but her tone was\nairy and confident.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said the second youth, \u201cdoes the choice beseem you upon whom\nthe moon of your nuptials is beaming still. My beloved and I are riper\nin Hymen\u2019s lore by not less, I ween, than one fortnight. Prudence\nimpels us towards the Palace of Illusion.\u201d\n\n\u201cThy will is mine, Alonso,\u201d said his lady.\n\n\u201cI,\u201d said the third youth, \u201cwill seek neither; for I would not be wise\nover-much, while of what I deem myself to know I would be well assured.\nHappy am I, and bless my lot, yet have I beheld a red mouse in closer\ncontiguity to my beloved than I could bring myself to approve, albeit\nit leapt not from her mouth as they do sometimes. Yet do I know it for\na red mouse and nothing worse; had I inhabited the Palace of Illusion\nhaply I had deemed it a rat. And, it being a red mouse as it\nindubitably was, to what end fancy it a tawny-throated nightingale?\u201d\n\nWhile, therefore, the other pairs proceeded on the paths they had\nrespectively chosen, this sage youth and his bride settled themselves\nat the parting of the ways, built their cot, tended their garden,\ntilled their field and raised fruits around them, including children.\n\nThe preparation of a cheerful repast was one day well advanced, when,\nlifting up their eyes, the pair beheld a haggard and emaciated couple\ntottering along the road that led from the Palace of Illusion.\n\n\u201cHeavens!\u201d exclaimed they simultaneously, \u201cno! yes! \u2019tis surely they!\u201d\nO friends! whence this forlorn semblance? whence this osseous\ncondition?\u201d\n\n\u201cOf them anon,\u201d replied the attenuated youth, \u201cbut, before all things,\ndinner!\u201d\n\nThe restorative was speedily administered, and the pilgrim commenced\nhis narration.\n\n\u201cGuarded,\u201d he said, \u201cthough the Palace of Illusion was by every species\nof hippogriffic chimaera, my bride and I experienced no difficulty in\npenetrating inside its precincts. The giants lifted us in their arms,\nthe dragons carried us on their backs, fairy bridges spanned the moats,\ngolden ladders inclined against the ramparts, we scaled the towers and\ntrod the courts securely, though constructed to all seeming of\ndissolving cloud. Delicate fare loaded every dish; smiling companions\ninvited to every festivity; perfumes caressed our nostrils; music\nenwrapped our ears.\n\n\u201cBut while all else charmed and allured, one fact intruded of which we\ncould not pretend unconsciousness, the intensity of our aversion for\neach other. Never could I behold my Imogene without marvelling whatever\ncould have induced me to wed her, and she has acknowledged that she\nlaboured under the like perplexity. On the other hand, our good opinion\nof ourselves had grown prodigiously. The other\u2019s dislike appeared to\neach an insane delusion, and we seriously questioned whether it could\nbe right to mate longer with a being so destitute of true aesthetic\nfeeling. We confided these scruples to each other, with the result of a\nmost tempestuous altercation.\n\n\u201cAs this was attaining its climax, one of the inmates of the Palace, a\npert forward boy, resembling a page out of livery, passed by, and\nironically, as I thought, congratulated us on the strength of our\nmutual attachment. \u2018Never,\u2019 exclaimed he, \u2018have I beheld the like here\nbefore, and I am the oldest inhabitant.\u2019\n\n\u201cAs this felicitation was proffered at the precise moment when I was\nengaged in staunching a rent in my cheek with a handful of my wife\u2019s\nhair, I was constrained to regard it as unseasonable, and expressed\nmyself to that effect.\n\n\u201c\u2018What!\u2019 exclaimed he, with equal surprise, \u2018know ye not that this is\nthe Palace of Illusion, where everything is inverted and appears the\nreverse of itself? Intense indeed must be the affection which can thus\ndrive you to fisticuffs! Had I beheld you billing and cooing, truly I\nhad counselled a judicial separation!\u2019\n\n\u201cMy wife and I looked at each other, and by a common impulse made at\nour utmost speed for the gate of the Palace of Illusion.\n\n\u201cAlas! it is one thing to enter and another to quit that domain of\nenchantment. The golden clouds enwrapt us still, cates and dainties\ntempted us as of old, the most bewitching strains detained us\nspellbound. The giant and dragon warders, indeed, offered no violent\nresistance, they simply turned into open portals which appeared to\nyield us egress, but proved entrances to interminable labyrinthine\nmazes. At last we escaped by resolutely, following the exact opposite\ntrack to that which we observed to be taken by a poet, who was chasing\na phantom of Fame with a scroll of unintelligible and inharmonious\nverse.\n\n\u201cThe moment that we emerged from the enchanted castle we knew ourselves\nand each other for what we were, and fell weeping into each other\u2019s\narms. So feeble were we that we could hardly move, nevertheless we have\nmade a shift to crawl hither, trusting to your hospitality to recruit\nus from the sawdust and ditch-water which we vehemently suspect to have\nbeen our diet during the whole of our residence.\u201d\n\n\u201cEat and drink without stint and without ceremony,\u201d rejoined their\nhost, \u201cprovided only that somewhat remain for the guests whom I see\napproaching.\u201d\n\nAnd in a few moments the fugitives from the Palace of Illusion were\nreinforced by travellers from the Palace of Truth, whose backs were\nmost determinately turned to that august edifice.\n\n\u201cMy friends,\u201d said the youth last arrived, when the first greetings\nwere over, \u201cTruth\u2019s Palace might be a not ineligible residence were not\nthe inmates necessitated not merely to know the truth but to speak it,\nand did not all innocent embellishments of her majestic person become\nentirely inefficient and absolutely nugatory. For example, the number\nof my wife\u2019s grey hairs speedily confounded me; and how should it be\notherwise, when the excellent dye she had brought with her had\ncompletely lost its virtues? She on her part found herself continually\nobliged to acquaint me with the manifold defects she was daily\ndiscovering in my mind and person, which I was unable to deny,\nfrequently as I opened my mouth for that purpose. It is true that I had\nthe satisfaction of pointing out equal defects in herself; but this\ncould not be considered a great satisfaction, seeing that every such\ndiscovery impugned my taste and judgment, and impaired the worth of my\nmost cherished possession. At length we resolved that Truth and we were\nnot made for each other, and, having verified the accuracy of this\nconclusion by uttering it unrebuked in Truth\u2019s own palace, quitted the\nunblest spot with all possible expedition. No sooner were we outside\nthan our tenderness revived, and, the rites of reconciliation duly\nperformed, my wife found nothing more urgent than to try whether her\ndye had recovered its natural properties, which, as ye may perceive,\nproved to be the case. We are now bound for the Palace of Illusion.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay,\u201d said he who had escaped thence, \u201cif my experience suffices not\nto deter you, learn that they who have known Truth can never taste of\nIllusion. Illusion is for life\u2019s golden prime, its fanes and pavilions\nmay be reared but by the magic wand of Youth. The maturity that would\nrecreate them builds not for Illusion but for Deceit. Yet, lest\nmortality should despair, there exists, as I have learned, yet another\npalace, founded midway between that of Illusion and that of Truth, open\nto those who are too soft for the one and too hard for the other.\nThither, indeed, the majority of mankind in this age resort, and there\nappear to find themselves comfortable.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd this palace is?\u201d inquired Truth\u2019s runaways simultaneously.\n\n\u201cThe Palace of Convention,\u201d replied the youth.\n\n\n\n\nNEW READINGS IN BIOGRAPHY\n\nI.\u2014TIMON OF ATHENS\n\nNo, it was not true that Timon was dead, and buried on the sea-shore.\nSo the first party discovered that hastened to his cave at the tidings,\nthinking to seize his treasure, and had their heads broken for their\npains. But the second party fared better; for these were robbers,\ncaptained by Alcibiades, who had taken to the road, as many a man of\nspirit, has done before and since. They took Timon\u2019s gold, and left him\nbound in his chair. But on the way home the lesser thieves mysteriously\ndisappeared, and the gold became the sole property of Alcibiades. As it\nis written, \u201cThe tools to him that can handle them.\u201d\n\nTimon sat many hours in an uncomfortable position, and though, in a\ngeneral way, he abhorred the face of man, he was not displeased when a\ngentleman of bland appearance entered the cavern, and made him a low\nobeisance. And perceiving that Timon was bound, the bland man exclaimed\nwith horror, and severed his bonds, ere one could say Themistocles. And\nin an instant the cavern was filled with Athenian senators.\n\n\u201cHail,\u201d they cried, \u201cto Timon the munificent! Hail to Timon the\ncompassionate! Hail to Timon the lover of his kind!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am none of these things,\u201d said Timon. \u201cI am Timon the misanthrope.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis must be my Lord\u2019s wit and playfulness,\u201d said the bland man, \u201cfor\nhow else should the Senate and the people have passed a decree, indited\nby myself, ordering an altar to be raised to Timon the Benefactor, and\nappointing him chief archon? But come, hand over thy treasure, that thy\ninstallation may take effect with due observance.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have been deprived of my treasure,\u201d said Timon.\n\nBut the ambassadors gave him no credit until they had searched every\nchink and crevice in the cavern, and dug up all the earth round the\nentrance. They then regarded each other with blank consternation.\n\n\u201cLet us leave him as we found him,\u201d said one.\n\n\u201cLet us hang him up,\u201d said another.\n\n\u201cLet us sell him into captivity,\u201d said a third.\n\n\u201cNay, friends,\u201d said the bland gentleman, \u201csuch confession of error\nwould impeach our credit as statesmen. Moreover, should the people\nlearn that Timon has lost his money, they will naturally conclude that\nwe have taken it. Let us, therefore, keep this misfortune from their\nknowledge, and trust for relief to the chapter of accidents, as usual\nin State affairs.\u201d\n\nThey therefore robed Timon in a dress of honour, and conducted him to\nAthens, where half the inhabitants were awaiting him. Two triumphal\narches spanned the principal street, and on one was inscribed \u201cTimon\nthe Benefactor,\u201d and on the other \u201cTimon the Friend of Humanity.\u201d And\nall along, far as the eye could reach, stood those whom his bounty, as\nwas stated, had rescued from perdition, the poor he had relieved, the\nsick he had medicined, the orphans he had fathered, the poets and\npainters he had patronised, all lauding and thanking him, and\nsoliciting a continuance of his liberality. And the rabble cried\n\u201cLargesse, largesse!\u201d and horsemen galloped forth, casting among them\nnuts enveloped in silver-leaf and apples and comfits and trinkets and\nbrass farthings in incredible quantities. At which the people murmured\nsomewhat, and spoke amiss respecting Timon and the senators who\nescorted him, and the bland gentleman strove to keep Timon between\nhimself and the populace. While Timon was pondering what the end of\nthese things should be, his mob encountered another cheering for\nAlcibiades, and playing pitch and toss with drachmas and didrachmas and\ntetradrachmas, yea, even with staters and darics.\n\n\u201cLong live Alcibiades,\u201d cried Timon\u2019s followers, as they attacked\nAlcibiades\u2019s supporters to get their share.\n\n\u201cLong live Timon,\u201d cried Alcibiades\u2019s party, as they defended\nthemselves.\n\nTimon and Alcibiades extricated themselves from the scuffle, and walked\naway arm in arm.\n\n\u201cMy dear friend,\u201d said Timon, \u201chow inexpressibly beholden I am to you\nfor taking the burden of my wealth upon yourself! There is nothing I\nwould not do to evince my gratitude.\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing?\u201d queried Alcibiades.\n\n\u201cNothing,\u201d persisted Timon.\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d said Alcibiades, \u201cI will thank thee to relieve me of Timandra,\nwho is as tired of me as I am of her.\u201d\n\nTimon winced horribly, but his word was his bond, and Timandra\naccompanied him to his cavern, where at first she suffered much\ninconvenience from the roughness of the accommodation. But Timon,\nthough a misanthrope, was not a brute; and when in process of time\nTimandra\u2019s health required special care, rugs and pillows were provided\nfor her, and also for Timon; for he saw that he could no longer pass\nfor a churl if he made his wife more comfortable than himself. And,\nthough he counted gold as dross, yet was he not dissatisfied that\nTimandra had saved the gold he had given her formerly against a rainy\nday. And when a child was born, Timon was at his wits\u2019 end, and blessed\nthe old woman who came to nurse it. And she admonished him of his duty\nto the Gods, which meant sacrifice, which meant merry-making. And the\nchild grew, and craved food and drink, and Timon possessed himself of\nthree acres and a cow. And not being able to doubt his child\u2019s\naffection for him, he came to believe in Timandra\u2019s also. And when the\ntax-gatherer oppressed his neighbours, he pleaded their cause, which\nwas also his own, in the courts of Athens, and gained it by the\ninterest of Alcibiades. And his neighbours made him demarch, and he\nfeasted them. And Apemantus came to deride him, and Timon bore with\nhim; but he was impertinent to Timandra, and Timon beat him.\n\nAnd in fine, Timon became very like any other Attic country gentleman,\nsave that he always maintained that a young man did well to be a\nmisanthrope until he got a loving and sensible wife, which, as he\nobserved, could but seldom happen. And the Gods looked down upon him\nwith complacency, and deferred the ruin of Athens until he should be no\nmore.\n\nII.\u2014NAPOLEON\u2019S SANGAREE\n\nNapoleon Buonaparte sat in his garden at St. Helena, in the shadow of a\nfig-tree. Before him stood a little table, and upon the table stood a\nglass of sangaree. The day was hot and drowsy; the sea boomed\nmonotonously on the rocks; the broad fig-leaves stirred not; great\nflies buzzed heavily in the sultry air. Napoleon wore a loose linen\ncoat and a broad brimmed planter\u2019s hat, and looked as red as the\nsangaree, but nowise as comfortable.\n\n\u201cTo think,\u201d he said aloud, \u201cthat I should end my life here, with\nnothing to sweeten my destiny but this lump of sugar!\u201d\n\nAnd he dropped it into the sangaree, and little ripples and beads broke\nout on the surface of the liquid.\n\n\u201cThou should\u2019st have followed me,\u201d said a voice.\n\n\u201cMe,\u201d said another.\n\nAnd a steam from the sangaree rose high over Napoleon\u2019s head, and from\nit shaped themselves two beautiful female figures. One was fair and\nvery youthful, with a Phrygian cap on her head, and eager eyes beneath\nit, and a slender spear in her hand. The other was somewhat older, and\ngraver, and darker, with serious eyes; and she carried a sword, and\nwore a helmet, from underneath which her rich brown tresses escaped\nover her vesture of light steel armour.\n\n\u201cI am Liberty,\u201d said the first.\n\n\u201cI am Loyalty,\u201d said the second.\n\nAnd Napoleon laid his hand in that of the first spirit, and instantly\nsaw himself as he had been in the days of his youthful victories, only\nbeset with a multitude of people who were offering him a crown, and\ncheering loudly. But he thrust it aside, and they cheered ten times\nmore, and fell into each other\u2019s arms, and wept and kissed each other.\nAnd troops of young maidens robed in white danced before him, strewing\nhis way with flowers. And the debts of the debtor were paid, and the\nprisoners were released from captivity. And the forty Academicians came\nbringing Napoleon the prize of virtue. And the Abb\u00e9 Siey\u00e8s stood up,\nand offered Napoleon his choice of seventeen constitutions; and\nNapoleon chose the worst. And he came to sit with five hundred other\nmen, mostly advocates. And when he said \u201cYea,\u201d they said \u201cNay\u201d; and\nwhen he said \u201cwhite,\u201d they said \u201cblack.\u201d And they suffered him to do\nneither good nor evil, and when he went to war they commanded his army\nfor him, until he was smitten with a great slaughter. And the enemy\nentered the country, and bread was scarce and wine dear; and the people\ncursed Napoleon, and Liberty vanished from before him. But he roamed\non, ever looking for her, and at length he found her lying dead in the\npublic way, all gashed and bleeding, and trampled with the feet of men\nand horses, and the wheel of a tumbril was over her neck. And Napoleon,\nunder compulsion of the mob, ascended the tumbril; and Abb\u00e9 Siey\u00e8s and\nBishop Talleyrand rode at his side, administering spiritual\nconsolation. Thus they came within sight of the guillotine, whereon\nstood M. de Robespierre in his sky-blue coat, and his jaw bound up in a\nbloody cloth, bowing and smiling, nevertheless, and beckoning Napoleon\nto ascend to him. Napoleon had never feared the face of man; but when\nhe saw M. de Robespierre great dread fell upon him, and he leapt out of\nthe tumbril, and fled amain, passing amid the people as it were mid\nwithered leaves, until he came where Loyalty stood awaiting him.\n\nShe took his hand in hers, and, lo! another great host of people\nproffering him a crown, save one little old man, who alone of them all\nwore his hair in a queue with powder.\n\n\u201cSee,\u201d said the little old man, \u201cthat thou takest not what doth not\nbelong to thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo whom belongeth it then?\u201d asked Napoleon, \u201cfor I am a plain soldier,\nand have no skill in politics.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo Louis the Disesteemed,\u201d said the little old man, \u201cfor he is a\ngreat-great-nephew of the Princess of Schwoffingen, whose ancestors\nreigned here at the flood.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere dwells Louis the Disesteemed?\u201d asked Napoleon.\n\n\u201cIn England,\u201d said the little old man.\n\nNapoleon therefore repaired to England, and sought for Louis the\nDisesteemed. But none could direct him, save that it behoved him to\nseek in the obscurest places. And one day, as he was passing through a\nmean street, he heard a voice of lamentation, and perceived a man whose\ncoat and shirt were rent and dirty; but not so his pantaloons, for he\nhad none.\n\n\u201cWho art thou, thou pantaloonless one?\u201d asked he, \u201cand wherefore makest\nthou this lamentation?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am Louis the Esteemed, King of France and Navarre,\u201d replied the\ndistrousered personage, \u201cand I lament for my pantaloons, which I have\nbeen enforced to pawn, inasmuch as the broker would advance nothing\nupon my coat or my shirt.\u201d\n\nAnd Napoleon went upon his knees and divested himself of his own nether\ngarments, and arrayed the king therein, to the great diversion of those\nwho stood about.\n\n\u201cThou hast done wickedly,\u201d said the king when he heard who Napoleon\nwas, \u201cin that thou hast presumed to fight battles and win victories\nwithout any commission from me. Go, nevertheless, and lose an arm, a\nleg, and an eye in my service, then shall thy offence be forgiven\nthee.\u201d\n\nAnd Napoleon raised a great army, and gained a great battle for the\nking, and lost an arm. And he gained another greater battle, and lost a\nleg. And he gained the greatest battle of all; and the king sat on the\nthrone of his ancestors, and was called Louis the Victorious: but\nNapoleon had lost an eye. And he came into the king\u2019s presence, bearing\nhis eye, his arm, and his leg.\n\n\u201cThou art pardoned,\u201d said the king, \u201cand I will even confer a singular\nhonour upon thee. Thou shalt defray the expense of my coronation, which\nshall be the most splendid ever seen in France.\u201d\n\nSo Napoleon lost all his substance, and no man pitied him. But after\ncertain days the keeper of the royal wardrobe rushed into the king\u2019s\npresence, crying \u201cTreason! treason! O Majesty, whence these republican\nand revolutionary pantaloons?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are those I deigned to receive from the rebel Buonaparte,\u201d said\nthe king. \u201cIt were meet to return them. Where abides he now?\u201d\n\n\u201cSaving your Majesty\u2019s presence,\u201d they said, \u201che lieth upon a certain\ndunghill.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf this be so,\u201d said the king, \u201clife can be no gratification to him,\nand it were humane to relieve him of it. Moreover, he is a dangerous\nman. Go, therefore, and strangle him with his own pantaloons. Yet, let\na monument be raised to him, and engrave upon it, \u2018Here lies Napoleon\nBuonaparte, whom Louis the Victorious raised from the dunghill.\u2019\u201d\n\nThey went accordingly; but behold! Napoleon already lay dead upon the\ndunghill. And this was told unto the king.\n\n\u201cHe hath ever been envious of my glory,\u201d said the king, \u201clet him\ntherefore be buried underneath.\u201d\n\nAnd it was so. And after no long space the king also died, and slept\nwith his fathers. But when there was again a revolution in France, the\npeople cast his bones out of the royal sepulchre, and laid Napoleon\u2019s\nthere instead. And the dunghill complained grievously that it should be\ndisturbed for so slight a cause.\n\nAnd Napoleon withdrew his hand from the hand of Loyalty, saying,\n\u201cPish!\u201d And his eyes opened, and he heard the booming of the sea, and\nthe buzzing of the flies, and felt the heat of the sun, and saw that\nthe sugar he had dropped into his sangaree had not yet reached the\nbottom of the tumbler.\n\nIII.\u2014CONCERNING DANIEL DEFOE\n\nDaniel Defoe, at the invitation of the judge, came forth from the\ngarret wherein he abode, and rode in a cart unto the Royal Exchange,\nwherein he ascended the pillory, to the end that his ears might be\nnailed thereunto. And much people stood before him, some few pelting,\nsome mocking, but the most part cheering or weeping, for they knew him\nfor a friend to the poor, and especially those men who were called\nDissenters. And a certain person in black stood by him, invisible to\nthe people, but well seen of Daniel, who knew him for one whose life he\nhad himself written. And the man in black reasoned with Daniel, and\nsaid, \u201cThou seest this multitude of people, but which of them shall\ndeliver thee out of my hand? Nay, but let thy white be black, and thy\nblack white, and I myself will deliver thee, and make thee rich, and\nheal thy hurts, save the holes in thy ears, that I may know thee for\nmine own.\u201d But Daniel gave no heed to him. So the Devil departed,\nhaving great wrath, and entered into a certain smug-faced man standing\nby.\n\nAnd now the crowd before Daniel was greatly diminished, and consisted\nmainly of his enemies, for his friends had gone away to drown their\nsorrow. And the smug-faced man into whom Satan had entered came forth\nfrom among them, and said unto him, \u201cO Daniel, inasmuch as I am a\nDissenter I am greatly beholden to thee; but inasmuch as I am an honest\ntradesman I have somewhat against thee, for thou hast written\nconcerning short weights and measures. And a man\u2019s shop is more to him\nthan his country or his religion. Wherefore I must needs be avenged of\nthee. Yet shalt thou own that the tender mercies of the good man are\npiteous, and that even in his wrath he thinketh upon compassion.\u201d\n\nAnd he picked up a great stone from the ground, and wrapped it in a\npiece of paper, saying, \u201cLest peradventure it hurt him overmuch.\u201d And\nthe stone was very rough and sharp, and the paper was very thin. And he\nhurled it with all his might at the middle of Daniel\u2019s forehead, and\nthe blood spouted forth. And Daniel cried aloud, and called upon the\nname of the Devil. And in an instant the pillory and the people were\ngone, and he found himself in the Prime Minister\u2019s cabinet, healed of\nall his hurts, except the holes in his ears. And the Minister was so\nlike the Devil that you could not tell the difference. And he said,\n\u201cAgainst what wilt thou write first, Daniel?\u201d\n\n\u201cDissenters,\u201d said Daniel.\n\nAnd he wrote a pamphlet, and such as read it took firebrands, and\nvisited the Dissenters in their habitations. And many Dissenters were\nput into prison, and others fined and spoiled of their goods. And he\nwrote other pamphlets, and each was cleverer and wickeder than the\nlast. And whatsoever Daniel had of old declared to be white, lo! it was\nblack; and what he had said was black, behold! it was white. And he\nthrove and prospered exceedingly, and became a commissioner for\npublic-houses and hackney-coaches and the imposing of oaths and the\nlevying of custom, and all other such things as one does by deputy. And\nhe mended the holes in his ears.\n\nBut the time came when Daniel must be judged, and he went before the\nLord. And all the court was full of Dissenters, and the Devil was there\nalso. And the Dissenters testified many and grievous things against\nDaniel.\n\n\u201cDaniel,\u201d said the Lord, \u201cwhat answerest thou?\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing, Lord,\u201d said Daniel. \u201cOnly I would that the Dissenter who\nthrew that stone at me should receive due and condign punishment,\nadequate to his misdeed.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat,\u201d said the Devil, \u201cis impossible.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou sayest well, Satan,\u201d said the Lord, \u201cand therefore shall Daniel\ngo free. For if anything can excuse the apostasy of the noble, it is\nthe ingratitude of the base.\u201d\n\nSo the Devil went to his own place, looking very small. And Daniel\nfound himself in the same garret whence he had gone forth to the\npillory; and before him were bread and cheese, and a pen and ink and\npaper. And he dipped the pen into the ink, and wrote _Robinson Crusoe_.\n\nIV.\u2014CORNELIUS THE FERRYMAN\n\nFourscore years ago there was a good ferryman named Cornelius, who\nrowed people between New York and Brooklyn. He had neither wife nor\nchild, nor any one to think of except himself. It was, therefore, his\ncustom, when he had earned enough in a day for his own wants, to put\nthe rest aside, and bestow it upon sick or blind or maimed persons,\nlest they should come to the workhouse. And the sick and the blind and\nthe maimed gathered around him, and waited by the water\u2019s edge, until\nCornelius\u2019s day\u2019s work should be over.\n\nThis went on until one of the little sooty imps who are always in\nmischief came to hear of it, and told the principal devil in charge of\nthe United States, whose name is Politicianus.\n\n\u201cDear me,\u201d said the Devil, \u201cthis will never do. I will see to it\nimmediately.\u201d\n\nAnd he went off to Cornelius, and caught him in the act of giving two\ndimes to a blind beggar.\n\n\u201cHow foolish you are!\u201d he said; \u201cwhat waste of money is this! If you\nsaved it up, you would by-and-by be able to build an hospital for all\nthe beggars in New York.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt would be a long time before there was enough,\u201d objected Cornelius.\n\n\u201cNot at all,\u201d said the Devil, \u201cif you let me invest your money for\nyou.\u201d And he showed Cornelius the plan of a most splendid hospital, and\nacross the front of it was inscribed in letters of gold, _Cornelius\nDiabolodorus_. And Cornelius was persuaded, and that evening he gave\nnothing to the poor. And the poor had come to think that Cornelius\u2019s\nmoney was their own, and abused him as though he had robbed them. And\nCornelius drove them away: and his heart was hardened against them from\nthat day forth.\n\nBut the Devil kept his promise to Cornelius, and put him up to all the\ngood things in Wall Street, and he soon had enough to build ten\nhospitals. But the more he had to build with, the less he wanted to\nbuild. And by-and-by the Devil called upon him, and found him\ncontemplating two pictures. One of them showed the finest hospital you\ncan imagine, full of neat, clean rooms, in one of which sat Cornelius\nhimself, wearing a dress with a number and badge, and sipping\narrowroot. The other showed fine houses, and opera-boxes, and\nfast-trotting horses, and dry champagne, and ladies who dance in\nballets, and paintings by the great masters. Cornelius thrust the\npictures away, and the Devil did not ask to see them, nor was it\nneedful that he should, for he had painted them himself.\n\n\u201cO dear Mr. Devil,\u201d said Cornelius, \u201cI am so glad that you have called,\nfor I wanted to speak to you. It strikes me that there is a great\ndefect in the plan which you have been so good as to draw for me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is that?\u201d asked the Devil.\n\n\u201cThere is no place for black men,\u201d said Cornelius. \u201cAnd you know white\nmen will never let them come into the same hospital.\u201d\n\nAnd the Devil, to do him justice, talked very reasonably to Cornelius,\nand represented to him that there were very few black men in New York,\nand that these had very vigorous constitutions. But Cornelius was\ninflamed with enthusiasm, and frantic with philanthropy, and he vowed\nthat he would not give a cent to an hospital that had not a wing for\nblack men as big as all the rest of the building. And the Devil had to\ntake his plan back, and come again in a year and a day. And when he did\ncome back, Cornelius asked him if he did not think it would be a most\nexcellent thing if all the Irishmen in New York could be shut up in an\nhospital or elsewhere; and he could not deny it. So he had to take his\nplan back again. And next year it was the turn of the Chinese, and then\nof the Red Indians, and then of the dogs and cats. And then Cornelius\nthought that he ought to provide room for all the people who had been\nruined by his speculations, and the Devil thought so too, but doubted\nwhether Cornelius would be able to afford it. And at last Cornelius\nsaid:\n\n\u201cMethinks I have been very foolish in wishing to build an hospital at\nall while I am living. Surely it would be better that I should enjoy my\nmoney myself during my life, and leave the residue for the lawyers to\ndivide after my death.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are quite right,\u201d said the Devil; \u201cthat is exactly what I should\ndo if I were you.\u201d\n\nSo Cornelius put the plans behind a shelf in his counting-house, and\nthe mice ate them. And he went on prospering and growing rich, until\nthe Devil became envious of him, and insisted on changing places with\nhim. So Cornelius went below, and the Devil came and dwelt in New York,\nwhere he still is.\n\n\n\n\nTHE POISON MAID\n\n\n        O not for him\nBlooms my dark nightshade, nor doth hemlock brew\nMurder for cups within her cavernous root.\n\nI\n\nGrievous is the lot of the child, more especially of the female child,\nwho is doomed from the tenderest infancy to lack the blessing of a\nmother\u2019s care.\n\nWas it from this absence of maternal vigilance that the education of\nthe lovely Mithridata was conducted from her babyhood in such an\nextraordinary manner? That enormous serpents infested her cradle,\nlicking her face and twining around her limbs? That her tiny fingers\npatted scorpions? and tied knots in the tails of vipers? That her\nfather, the magician Locuste, ever sedulous and affectionate, fed her\nwith spoonsful of the honeyed froth that gathers under the tongues of\nasps? That as she grew older and craved a more nutritious diet, she\npartook, at first in infinitesimal doses, but in ever increasing\nquantities, of arsenic, strychnine, opium, and prussic acid? That at\nlast having attained the flower of youth, she drank habitually from\nvessels of gold, for her favourite beverages were so corrosive that no\nother substance could resist their solvent properties?\n\nGradually accustomed to this strange regimen, she had thriven on it\nmarvellously, and was without a peer for beauty, sense, and goodness.\nHer father had watched over her education with care, and had instructed\nher in all lawful knowledge, save only the knowledge of poisons. As no\nother human being had entered the house, Mithridata was unaware that\nher bringing up had differed in so material a respect from that of\nother young people.\n\n\u201cFather,\u201d said she one day, bringing him a book she had been perusing,\n\u201cwhat strange follies learned men will pen with gravity! or is it\nrather that none can set bounds to the licence of romancers? These dear\nserpents, my friends and playfellows, this henbane and antimony, the\nnourishment of my health and vigour\u2014that any one should write of these\nas pernicious, deadly, and fatal to existence! Is it error or\nmalignity? or but the wanton freak of an idle imagination?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy child,\u201d answered the magician, \u201cit is fit that thou shouldst now\nlearn what hath hitherto been concealed from thee, and with this object\nI left this treatise in thy way. It speaks truth. Thou hast been\nnurtured from thy infancy on substances endowed with lethal properties,\ncommonly called poisons. Thy entire frame is impregnated thereby, and,\nalthough thou thyself art in the fullest enjoyment of health, thy kiss\nwould be fatal to any one not, like thy father, fortified by a course\nof antidotes. Now hear the reason. I bear a deadly grudge to the king\nof this land. He indeed hath not injured me; but his father slew my\nfather, wherefore it is meet that I should slay that ancestor\u2019s son\u2019s\nson. I have therefore nurtured thee from thy infancy on the deadliest\npoisons, until thou art a walking vial of pestilence. The young prince\nshall unseal thee, to his destruction and thy unspeakable advantage. Go\nto the great city; thou art beautiful as the day; he is young,\nhandsome, and amorous; he will infallibly fall in love with thee. Do\nthou submit to his caresses, he will perish miserably; thou (such is\nthe charm) ransomed by the kiss of love, wilt become wholesome and\ninnocuous as thy fellows, preserving only thy knowledge of poisons,\nalways useful, in the present state of society invaluable. Thou wilt\ntherefore next repair to the city of Constantinople, bearing\nrecommendatory letters from me to the Empress Theophano, now happily\nreigning.\u201d\n\n\u201cFather,\u201d said Mithridata, \u201ceither I shall love this young prince, or I\nshall not. If I do not love him, I am nowise minded to suffer him to\ncaress me. If I do love him, I am as little minded to be the cause of\nhis death.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot even in consideration of the benefit which will accrue to thee by\nthis event?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot even for that consideration.\u201d\n\n\u201cO these daughters!\u201d exclaimed the old man. \u201cWe bring them up tenderly,\nwe exhaust all our science for the improvement of their minds and\nbodies, we set our choicest hopes upon them, and entrust them with the\nfulfilment of our most cherished aspirations; and when all is done,\nthey will not so much as commit a murder to please us! Miserable\ningrate, receive the just requital of thy selfish disobedience!\u201d\n\n\u201cO father, do not turn me into a tadpole!\u201d\n\n\u201cI will not, but I will turn thee out of doors.\u201d\n\nAnd he did.\n\nII\n\nThough disinherited, Mithridata was not destitute. She had secured a\nparticle of the philosopher\u2019s stone\u2014a slender outfit for a magician\u2019s\ndaughter! yet ensuring her a certain portion of wealth. What should she\ndo now? The great object of her life must henceforth be to avoid\ncommitting murder, especially murdering any handsome young man. It\nwould have seemed most natural to retire into a convent, but, not to\nspeak of her lack of vocation, she felt that her father would justly\nconsider that she had disgraced her family, and she still looked\nforward to reconciliation with him. She might have taken a hermitage,\nbut her instinct told her that a fair solitary can only keep young men\noff by strong measures; and she disliked the character of a hermitess\nwith a bull-dog. She therefore went straight to the great city, took a\nhouse, and surrounded herself with attendants. In the choice of these\nshe was particularly careful to select those only whose personal\nappearance was such as to discourage any approach to familiarity or\nendearment. Never before or since was youthful beauty surrounded by\nsuch moustached duennas, squinting chambermaids, hunchbacked pages, and\nstumpy maids-of-all-work. This was a real sorrow to her, for she loved\nbeauty; it was a still sadder trial that she could no longer feel it\nright to indulge herself in the least morsel of arsenic; she sighed for\nstrychnia, and pined for prussic acid. The change of diet was of course\nat first most trying to her health, and in fact occasioned a serious\nillness, but youth and a sound constitution pulled her through.\n\nReader, hast thou known what it is to live with a heart inflamed by\nlove for thy fellow-creatures which thou couldst manifest neither by\nword nor deed? To pine with fruitless longings for good? and to consume\nwith vain yearnings for usefulness? To be misjudged and haply reviled\nby thy fellows for failing to do what it is not given thee to do? If\nso, thou wilt pity poor Mithridata, whose nature was most ardent,\nexpansive, and affectionate, but who, from the necessity under which\nshe laboured of avoiding as much as possible all contact with human\nbeings, saw herself condemned to a life of solitude, and knew that she\nwas regarded as a monster of pride and exclusiveness. She dared bestow\nno kind look, no encouraging gesture on any one, lest this small\nbeginning should lead to the manifestation of her fatal power. Her own\nservants, whose minds were generally as deformed as their bodies, hated\nher, and bitterly resented what they deemed her haughty disdain of\nthem. Her munificence none could deny, but bounty without tenderness\nreceives no more gratitude than it deserves. The young of her own sex\nsecretly rejoiced at her unamiability, regarding it as a providential\nset-off against her beauty, while they detested and denounced her as\na\u2014well, they would say viper in the manger, who spoiled everybody\nelse\u2019s lovers and would have none of her own. For with all Mithridata\u2019s\nseverity, there was no getting rid of the young men, the giddy moths\nthat flew around her brilliant but baleful candle. Not all the cold\nwater thrown upon them, literally as well as figuratively, could keep\nthem from her door. They filled her house with bouquets and billets\ndoux; they stood before the windows, they sat on the steps, they ran\nbeside her litter when she was carried abroad, they assembled at night\nto serenade her, fighting desperately among themselves. They sought to\ngain admission as tradesmen, as errand boys, even as scullions male and\nfemale. To such lengths did they proceed, that a particularly audacious\nyouth actually attempted to carry her off one evening, and would have\nsucceeded but for the interposition of another, who flew at him with a\ndrawn sword, and after a fierce contest smote him bleeding to the\nground. Mithridata had fainted, of course. What was her horror on\nreviving to find herself in the arms of a young man of exquisite beauty\nand princely mien, sucking death from her lips with extraordinary\nrelish! She shrieked, she struggled; if she made any unfeminine use of\nher hands, let the urgency of the case plead her apology. The youth\nreproached her bitterly for her ingratitude. She listened in silent\nmisery, unable to defend herself. The shaft of love had penetrated her\nbosom also, and it cost her almost as much for her own sake to dismiss\nthe young man as it did to see him move away, slowly and languidly\nstaggering to his doom.\n\nFor the next few days messages came continually, urging her to haste to\na youth dying for her sake, whom her presence would revive effectually.\nShe steadily refused, but how much her refusal cost her! She wept, she\nwrung her hands, she called for death and execrated her nurture. With\nthat strange appetite for self-torment which almost seems to diminish\nthe pangs of the wretched, she collected books on poisons, studied all\nthe symptoms described, and fancied her hapless lover undergoing them\nall in turn. At length a message came which admitted of no evasion. The\nKing commanded her presence. Admonished by past experience, she\nprovided herself with a veil and mask, and repaired to the palace.\n\nThe old King seemed labouring under deep affliction; under happier\ncircumstances he must have been joyous and debonair. He addressed her\nwith austerity, yet with kindness.\n\n\u201cMaiden,\u201d he began, \u201cthy unaccountable cruelty to my son\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cThy son!\u201d she exclaimed, \u201cThe Prince! O father, thou art avenged for\nmy disobedience!\u201d\n\n\u201cSurpasses what history hath hitherto recorded of the most obdurate\nmonsters. Thou art indebted to him for thy honour, to preserve which he\nhas risked his life. Thou bringest him to the verge of the grave by thy\ncruelty, and when a smile, a look from thee would restore him, thou\nwilt not bestow it.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas! great King,\u201d she replied, \u201cI know too well what your Majesty\u2019s\nopinion of me must be. I must bear it as I may. Believe me, the sight\nof me could effect nothing towards the restoration of thy son.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf that I shall judge,\u201d said the King, \u201cwhen thou hast divested\nthyself of that veil and mask.\u201d\n\nMithridata reluctantly complied.\n\n\u201cBy Heaven!\u201d exclaimed the King, \u201csuch a sight might recall the\ndeparting soul from Paradise. Haste to my son, and instantly; it is not\nyet too late.\u201d\n\n\u201cO King,\u201d urged Mithridata, \u201chow could this countenance do thy son any\ngood? Is he not suffering from the effects of seventy-two poisons?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not aware of that,\u201d said the King.\n\n\u201cAre not his entrails burned up with fire? Is not his flesh in a state\nof deliquescence? Has not his skin already peeled off his body? Is he\nnot tormented by incessant gripes and vomitings?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot to my knowledge,\u201d said the King. \u201cThe symptoms, as I understand,\nare not unlike those which I remember to have experienced myself, in a\nmilder form, certainly. He lies in bed, eats and drinks nothing, and\nincessantly calls upon thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is most incomprehensible,\u201d said Mithridata. \u201cThere was no drug in\nmy father\u2019s laboratory that could have produced such an effect.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe sum of the matter is,\u201d continued the King, \u201cthat either thou wilt\nrepair forthwith to my son\u2019s chamber, and subsequently to church; or\nelse unto the scaffold.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf it must be so, I choose the scaffold,\u201d said Mithridata resolutely.\n\u201cBelieve me, O King, my appearance in thy son\u2019s chamber would but\ndestroy whatever feeble hope of recovery may remain. I love him beyond\neverything on earth, and not for worlds would I have his blood on my\nsoul.\u201d\n\n\u201cChamberlain,\u201d cried the monarch, \u201cbring me a strait waistcoat.\u201d\n\nDriven into a corner, Mithridata flung herself at the King\u2019s feet,\ntaking care, however, not to touch him, and confided to him all her\nwretched history.\n\nThe venerable monarch burst into a peal of laughter. \u201c\u00c0 bon chat bon\nrat!\u201d he exclaimed, as soon as he had recovered himself. \u201cSo thou art\nthe daughter of my old friend the magician Locusto! I fathomed his\ncraft, and, as he fed his child upon poisons, I fed mine upon\nantidotes. Never did any child in the world take an equal quantity of\nphysic: but there is now no poison on earth can harm him. Ye are\nclearly made for each other; haste to his bedside, and, as the spell\nrequires, rid thyself of thy venefic properties in his arms as\nexpeditiously as possible. Thy father shall be bidden to the wedding,\nand an honoured guest he shall be, for having taught us that the kiss\nof Love is the remedy for every poison.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nNOTES\n\n\nThe first edition of these Tales was published in 1888. It contained\nsixteen stories, to which twelve are added in the present impression.\nMany originally appeared in periodicals, as will be found indicated in\nthe annotations which the recondite character of some allusions has\nrendered it desirable to append, and which further provide an\nopportunity of tendering thanks to many friends for their assent to\nrepublication.\n\nP. 5. _The divine tongue of Greece was forgotten,_\u2014Hereby we may detect\nthe error of those among the learned who have identified Caucasia with\nArmenia. \u201cHellenic letters,\u201d says Mr. Capes, writing of Armenia in the\nfourth century, \u201cwere welcomed with enthusiasm, and young men of the\nslenderest means crowded to the schools of Athens\u201d (\u201cUniversity Life in\nAncient Athens,\u201d p. 73).\n\nP. 28. _Who have discovered the Elixir of Immortality._\u2014The belief in\nthis elixir was general in China about the seventh century, A.D., and\nmany emperors used great exertions to discover it. This fact forms the\ngroundwork of Leopold Schefer\u2019s novel, \u201cDer Unsterblichkeitstrank,\u201d\nwhich has furnished the conception, though not the incidents, of \u201cThe\nPotion of Lao-Tsze.\u201d\n\nP. 38. _So she took the sceptre, and reigned gloriously._\u2014In A.D. 683,\nthe Dowager-Empress Woo How, upon her husband\u2019s death, caused her son\nto be set aside, and ruled prosperously until her decease in 703. In\nour day we have seen China virtually governed by female sovereigns.\n\nP. 50. _Ananda the Miracle Worker._\u2014This story was originally published\nin Fraser\u2019s Magazine for August, 1872. A French translation appeared in\nthe _Revue Britannique_ for November, 1872. Buddha\u2019s prohibition to\nwork miracles rests, so far as the present writer\u2019s knowledge extends,\non the authority of Professor Max M\u00fcller (\u201cLectures on the Science of\nReligion\u201d). It should be needless to observe that Ananda, \u201cthe St. John\nof the Buddhist group,\u201d is not recorded to have contravened this or any\nother of his master\u2019s precepts.\n\nP. 66. _The City of Philosophers._\u2014This story has been translated into\nFrench by M. Sarrazin.\n\nP. 68. _There to establish a philosophic commonwealth._\u2014The petition\nwas actually preferred, and would have been granted but for the\ndisordered condition of the empire. Gallienus, though not the man to\nsave a sinking state, possessed the accomplishments which would have\nadorned an age of peace and culture.\n\nP. 82. _The sword doubled up; it had neither point nor edge._\u2014Gallienus\nwas fond of such practical jocularity. \u201cQuum quidam gemmas vitreas pro\nveris vendiderat ejus uxori, atque illa, re prodita, vindicari vellet,\nsurripi quasi ad leonem venditorem jussit. Deinde e cavea caponem\nemittit, mirantibusque cunctis rem tam ridiculam, per curionem dici\njussit, \u2018Imposturam fecit et passus est\u2019: deinde negotiatorem dimisit\u201d\n(Trebellius in Gallieno, cap. xii.).\n\nP. 100. _Hypati, anthypati, &c._\u2014_Hypati_ and _anthypati_ denote\nconsuls and proconsuls, dignities of course merely titular at the court\nof Constantinople. _Silentiarii_ were properly officers charged with\nmaintaining order at court; but this duty, which was perhaps performed\nby deputy, seems to have been generally entrusted to persons of\ndistinction. The _protospatharius_ was the chief of the Imperial\nbody-guard, of which the _spatharocandidati_ constituted the _\u00e9lite_.\n\nP. 114. _The Wisdom of the Indians._\u2014Appeared in 1890 in _The Universal\nReview_. The idea was suggested by an incident in Dr. Bastian\u2019s travels\nin Burma.\n\nP. 124. _The Dumb Oracle._\u2014Appeared in the _University Magazine_ for\nJune, 1878. The legend on which it is founded, a mediaeval myth here\ntransferred to classical times, is also the groundwork of Browning\u2019s\nballad, \u201cThe Boy and the Angel.\u201d\n\nP. 136. _Duke Virgil._\u2014The subject of this story is derived from\nLeopold Schefer\u2019s novel, \u201cDie Sibylle von Mantua,\u201d though there is but\nlittle resemblance in the incidents. Schefer cites Friedrich von Quandt\nas his authority for the Mantuans having actually elected Virgil as\ntheir duke in the thirteenth century: but the notion seems merely\nfounded upon the interpretation of the insignia accompanying a medi\u00e6val\nstatue of the poet.\n\nP. 138. _To put the devil into a hole_.\u2014\u201cThen sayd Virgilius, \u2018Shulde\nye well passe in to the hole that ye cam out of?\u2019 \u2018Yea, I shall well,\u2019\nsayd the devyl. \u2018I holde the best plegge that I have, that ye shall not\ndo it.\u2019 \u2018Well,\u2019 sayd the devyll, \u2018thereto I consent.\u2019 And then the\ndevyll wrange himselfe into the lytyll hole ageyne, and he was therein.\nVirgilius kyvered the hole ageyne with the borde close, and so was the\ndevyll begyled, and myght nat there come out agen, but abideth shutte\nstill therein\u201d (\u201cRomance of Virgilius\u201d).\n\n_Ibid. Canst thou balance our city upon an egg?_\u2014\u201cThan he thought in\nhis mynde to founde in the middle of the sea a fayre towne, with great\nlandes belongynge to it, and so he did by his cunnynge, and called it\nNapells. And the foundacyon of it was of eggs\u201d (\u201cRomance of\nVirgilius\u201d).\n\nP. 148. _The Claw_.\u2014Originally published in _The English Illustrated\nMagazine_.\n\nP. 151. _Peter of Abano_.\u2014Pietro di Abano, who took his name from his\nbirthplace, a village near Padua, was a physician contemporary with\nDante, whose skill in medicine and astrology caused him to be accused\nof magic. It is nevertheless untrue that he was burned by the\nInquisition or stoned by the populace; but after his death he was\nburned in effigy, his remains having been secretly removed by his\nfriends. Honours were afterwards paid to his memory; and there seems no\ndoubt that he was a man of great attainments, including a knowledge of\nGreek, and of unblemished character, if he had not sometimes sold his\nskill at too high a rate. For his authentic history, see the article in\nthe _Biographie Universelle_ by Ginguen\u00e9; for the legendary, Tieck\u2019s\nromantic tale, \u201cPietro von Abano\u201d (1825), which has been translated\ninto English.\n\nP. 156. _Alexander the Rat-catcher_.\u2014This story, to whose ground-work\nHistory and Rabelais have equally contributed, was first published in\nvol. xii. of _The Yellow Book_, January, 1897.\n\nP. 157. _Cardinal Barbadico_.\u2014This cardinal was actually entrusted by\nAlexander VIII. with the commission of suppressing the rats; an\noccasion upon which the \u201csardonic grin\u201d imputed to the Pope by a\ndetractor may be conjectured to have been particularly apparent.\nBarbadico was a remarkable instance of a man \u201ckicked upstairs.\u201d As\nArchbishop of Corfu he had had a violent dispute with the Venetian\ngovernor, and Innocent XI., equally unwilling to disown the\nrepresentative of Papal authority or offend the Republic, recalled him\nto Rome and made him a Cardinal to keep him there.\n\nP. 177. _The Rewards of Industry._\u2014Appeared originally in _Atalanta for\nAugust_, 1888.\n\nP. 194. _The Talismans._\u2014First published in _Atalanta_ for September,\n1890.\n\nP. 202. _The Elixir of Life._\u2014Published July, 1881, in the third number\nof a magazine entitled _Our Times_, which blasted the elixir\u2019s\ncharacter by expiring immediately afterwards.\n\nP. 226. _The Purple Head._\u2014Appeared originally in _Fraser\u2019s Magazine_\nfor August, 1877.\n\nP. 228. _The purple of the emperor and the matrons appeared ashy grey\nin comparison._ \u201cCineris specie decolorari videbantur caeterae divini\ncomparatione fulgoris\u201d (Vopiscus, in Vita Aureliani, cap. xxix.).\n\nP. 230. _All these sovereigns._\u2014\u201cDiligentissime et Aurelianus et Probus\net proxime Diocletianus missis diligentissimis confectoribus\nrequisiverunt tale genus purpurae, nec tamen invenire potuerunt\u201d\n(Vopiscus, _loc. cit._).\n\nP. 241. _Pan\u2019s Wand._\u2014Published originally in a Christmas number of The\n_Illustrated London News_.\n\nP. 249. _A Page from the Book of Folly._\u2014Appeared in _Temple Bar_ for\n1871.\n\nP. 282. _The Philosopher and the Butterflies._\u2014One of the contributions\nby various writers to \u201cThe New Amphion,\u201d a little book prepared for\nsale at the Fancy Fair got up by the students of the University of\nEdinburgh in 1886.\n\nP. 294. _The Three Palaces._\u2014Published originally on a similar occasion\nto the last story, in \u201cA Volunteer Haversack,\u201d an extensive repertory\nof miscellaneous contributions in prose and verse, printed and sold at\nEdinburgh for a benevolent purpose in 1902.\n\nP. 300. _New Readings in Biography._\u2014Originally published in _The Scots\nObserver_ in 1889.\n\nP. 315. _The Poison Maid._\u2014The author wrote this tale in entire\nforgetfulness of Hawthorne\u2019s \u201cRapaccinip\u2019s Daughter,\u201d which\nnevertheless he had certainly read.","title":"The Twilight of the Gods, and Other Tales","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":80580}