Hypatia — Ch 30: Every Man To His Own Place, pt 1 (4007 words)
CHAPTER XXX: EVERY MAN TO HIS OWN PLACE
It was near midnight.
Raphael had been sitting some three hours in Miriam’s inner chamber, waiting in vain for her return.
To recover, if possible, his ancestral wealth; to convey it, without a day’s delay, to Cyrene; and, if possible, to persuade the poor old Jewess to accompany him, and there to soothe, to guide, perhaps to convert her, was his next purpose:--at all events, with or without his wealth, to flee from that accursed city.
And he counted impatiently the slow hours and minutes which detained him in an atmosphere which seemed reeking with innocent blood, black with the lowering curse of an avenging God.
More than once, unable to bear the thought, he rose to depart, and leave his wealth behind: but he was checked again by the thought of his own past life.
How had he added his own sin to the great heap of Alexandrian wickedness!
How had he tempted others, pampered others in evil!
Good God!
how had he not only done evil with all his might, but had pleasure in those who did the same!
And now, now he was reaping the fruit of his own devices.
For years past, merely to please his lust of power, his misanthropic scorn, he had been malting that wicked Orestes wickeder than he was even by his own base will and nature; and his puppet had avenged itself upon him!
He, he had prompted him to ask Hypatia’s hand....
He had laid, half in sport, half in envy of her excellence, that foul plot against the only human being whom he loved....
and he had destroyed her!
He, and not Peter, was the murderer of Hypatia!
True, he had never meant her death....
No; but had he not meant for her worse than death?
He had never foreseen....
No; but only because he did not choose to foresee.
He had chosen to be a god; to kill and to make alive by his own will and law; and behold, he had become a devil by that very act.
Who can--and who dare, even if he could--withdraw the sacred veil from those bitter agonies of inward shame and self-reproach, made all the more intense by his clear and undoubting knowledge that he was forgiven?
What dread of punishment, what blank despair, could have pierced that great heart so deeply as did the thought that the God whom he had hated and defied had returned him good for evil, and rewarded him not according to his iniquities?
That discovery, as Ezekiel of old had warned his forefathers, filled up the cup of his self-loathing....
To have found at last the hated and dreaded name of God: and found that it was Love!....
To possess Victoria, a living, human likeness, however imperfect, of that God; and to possess in her a home, a duty, a purpose, a fresh clear life of righteous labour, perhaps of final victory....
That was his punishment; that was the brand of Cain upon his forehead;
and he felt it greater than he could bear.
But at least there was one thing to be done.
Where he had sinned, there he must make amends; not as a propitiation, not even as a restitution;
but simply as a confession of the truth which he had found.
And as his purpose shaped itself, he longed and prayed that Miriam might return, and make it possible.
And Miriam did return.
He heard her pass slowly through the outer room, learn from the girls who was within, order them out of the apartments, close the outer door upon them; at last she entered, and said quietly-- ‘Welcome!
I have expected you.
You could not surprise old Miriam.
The teraph told me last night that you would be here....
’ Did she see the smile of incredulity upon Raphael’s face, or was it some sudden pang of conscience which made her cry out-- ‘....
No!
I did not!
I never expected you!
I am a liar, a miserable old liar, who cannot speak the truth, even if I try!
Only look kind!
Smile at me, Raphael!
--Raphael come back at last to his poor, miserable, villainous old mother!
Smile on me but once, my beautiful, my son!
my son!
’ And springing to him, she clasped him in her arms.
‘Your son?
’ ‘Yes, my son!
Safe at last!
Mine at last!
I can prove it now!
The son of my womb, though not the son of my vows!
’ And she laughed hysterically.
‘My child, my heir, for whom I have toiled and hoarded for three-and-thirty years!
Quick!
here are my keys.
In that cabinet are all my papers--all I have is yours.
Your jewels are safe--buried with mine.
The negro-woman, Eudaimon’s wife, knows where.
I made her swear secrecy upon her little wooden idol, and, Christian as she is, she has been honest.
Make her rich for life.
She hid your poor old mother, and kept her safe to see her boy come home.
But give nothing to her little husband: he is a bad fellow, and beats her.
--Go, quick!
take your riches, and away!....
No; stay one moment just one little moment--that the poor old wretch may feast her eyes with the sight of her darling once more before she dies!
’ ‘Before you die?
Your son?
God of my fathers, what is the meaning of all this, Miriam?
This morning I was the son of Ezra the merchant of Antioch!
’ ‘His son and heir, his son and heir!
He knew all at last.
We told him on his death-bed!
I swear that we told him, and he adopted you!
’ ‘We!
Who?
’ ‘His wife and I. He craved for a child, the old miser, and we gave him one--a better one than ever came of his family.
But he loved you, accepted you, though he did know all.
He was afraid of being laughed at after he was dead--afraid of having it known that he was childless, the old dotard!
No--he was right--true Jew in that, after all!
’ ‘Who was my father, then?
’ interrupted Raphael, in utter bewilderment.
The old woman laughed a laugh so long and wild, that Raphael shuddered.
‘Sit down at your mother’s feet.
Sit down....
just to please the poor old thing!
Even if you do not believe her, just play at being her child, her darling, for a minute before she dies; and she will tell you all....
perhaps there is time yet!
’ And he sat down....
‘What if this incarnation of all wickedness were really my mother?....
And yet--why should I shrink thus proudly from the notion?
Am I so pure myself as to deserve a purer source?
’....
And the old woman laid her hand fondly on his head, and her skinny fingers played with his soft locks, as she spoke hurriedly and thick.
‘Of the house of Jesse, of the seed of Solomon; not a rabbi from Babylon to Rome dare deny that!
A king’s daughter I am, and a king’s heart I had, and have, like Solomon’s own, my son!....
A kingly heart....
It made me dread and scorn to be a slave, a plaything, a soul-less doll, such as Jewish women are condemned to be by their tyrants, the men.
I
craved for wisdom, renown, power--power--power!
and my nation refused them to me; because, forsooth, I was a woman!
So I left them.
I went to the Christian priests....
They gave me what I asked....
They gave me more....
They pampered my woman’s vanity, my pride, my self-will, my scorn of wedded bondage, and bade me be a saint, the judge of angels and archangels, the bride of God!
Liars!
liars!
And so--if you laugh, you kill me, Raphael--and so Miriam, the daughter of Jonathan--Miriam, of the house of David--Miriam, the descendant of Ruth and Rachab, of Rachel and Sara, became a Christian nun, and shut herself up to see visions, and dream dreams, and fattened her own mad self-conceit upon the impious fancy that she was the spouse of the Nazarene, Joshua Bar-Joseph, whom she called Jehovah Ishi--Silence!
If you stop me a moment, it may be too late.
I hear them calling me already; and I made them promise not to take me before I had told all to my son--the son of my shame!
’ ‘Who calls you?
’ asked Raphael; but after one strong shudder she ran on, unheeding-- ‘But they lied, lied, lied!
I found them out that day....
Do not look up at me, and I will tell you all.
There was a riot--a fight between the Christian devils and the Heathen devils--and the convent was sacked, Raphael, my son!
--Sacked!....
Then I found out their blasphemy....
Oh God!
I shrieked to Him, Raphael!
I called on Him to rend His heavens and come down--to pour out His thunderbolts upon them--to cleave the earth and devour them--to save the wretched helpless girl who adored Him, who had given up father, mother, kinsfolk, wealth, the light of heaven, womanhood itself, for Him--who worshipped, meditated over Him, dreamed of Him night and day ....
And, Raphael, He did not hear me....
He did not hear me!
....
did not hear the!....
And then I knew it all for a lie!
a lie!
’ ‘And you knew it for what it is!
’ cried Raphael through his sobs, as he thought of Victoria, and felt every vein burning with righteous wrath.
--‘There was no mistaking that test, was there?....
For nine months I was mad.
And then your voice, my baby, my joy, my pride that brought me to myself once more!
And I shook off the dust of my feet against those Galilean priests, and went back to my own nation, where God had set me from the beginning.
I made them--the Rabbis, my father, my kin--I made them all receive me.
They could not stand before my eye.
I can stake people do what I will, Raphael!
I could--I could make you emperor now, if I had but time left!
I went back.
I palmed you off on Ezra as his son, I and his wife, and made him believe that you had been born to him while he was in Byzantium ....
And then--to live for you!
And I did live for you.
For you I travelled from India to Britain, seeking wealth.
For you I toiled, hoarded, lied, intrigued, won money by every means, no matter how base--for was it not for you?
And I have conquered!
You are the richest Jew south of the Mediterranean, you, my son!
And you deserve your wealth.
You have your mother’s soul in you, my boy!
I watched you, gloried in you--in your cunning, your daring, your learning, your contempt for these Gentile hounds.
You felt the royal blood of Solomon within you!
You felt that you were a young lion of Judah, and they the jackals who followed to feed upon your leavings!
And now, now!
Your only danger is past!
The cunning woman is gone--the sorceress who tried to take my young lion in her pitfall, and has fallen into the midst of it herself; and he is safe, and returned to take the nations for a prey, and grind their bones to powder, as it is written, “He couched like a lion, he lay down like a lioness’s whelp, and who dare rouse him up?
”’ ‘Stop!
’ said Raphael, ‘I must speak!
Mother!
I must!
As you love me, as you expect me to love you, answer!
Had you a hand in her death?
Speak!
’ ‘Did I not tell you that I was no more a Christian?
Had I remained one--who can tell what I might not have done?
All I, the Jewess, dare do was--Fool that I am!
I have forgotten all this time the proof--the proof--’ ‘I need no proof, mother.
Your words are enough,’ said Raphael, as he clasped her hand between his own, and pressed it to his burning forehead.
But the old woman hurried on ‘See!
See the black agate which you gave her in your madness!
’ ‘How did you obtain that?
’ ‘I stole it--stole it, my son; as thieves steal, and are crucified for stealing.
What was the chance of the cross to a mother yearning for her child?
--to a mother who put round her baby’s neck, three-and-thirty black years ago, that broken agate, and kept the other half next her own heart by day and night?
See!
See how they fit!
Look, and believe your poor old sinful mother!
Look, I say!
’ and she thrust the talisman into his hands.
‘Now, let me die!
I vowed never to tell this secret but to you: never to tell it to you, until the night I died.
Farewell, my son!
Kiss me but once--once, my child, my joy!
Oh, this makes up for all!
Makes up even for that day, the last on which I ever dreamed myself the bride of the Nazarene!
’ Raphael felt that he must speak, now or never.
Though it cost him the loss of all his wealth, and a mother’s curse, he must speak.
And not daring to look up, he said gently-- ‘Men have lied to you about Him, mother: but has He ever lied to you about Himself?
He did not lie to me when He sent me out into the world to find a man, and sent me back again to you with the good news that The Man is born into the world.
’ But to his astonishment, instead of the burst of bigoted indignation which he had expected, Miriam answered in a low, confused, abstracted voice-- ‘And did He send you hither?
Well--that was more like what I used to fancy Him....
A grand thought it is after all--a Jew the king of heaven and earth!....
Well--I shall know soon....
I loved Him once,....
and perhaps....
perhaps....
’ Why did her head drop heavily upon his shoulder?
He turned--a dark stream of blood was flowing from her lips!
He sprang to his feet.
The girls rushed in.
They tore open her shawl, and saw the ghastly wound, which she had hidden with such iron resolution to the last.
But it was too late.
Miriam the daughter of Solomon was gone to her own place.
Early the next morning, Raphael was standing in Cyril’s anteroom, awaiting an audience.
There were loud voices within; and after a while a tribune--whom he knew well hurried out, muttering curses-- ‘What brings you here, friend?
’ said Raphael.
‘The scoundrel will not give them up,’ answered he, in an undertone.
‘Give up whom?
’ ‘The murderers.
They are in sanctuary now at the Caesareum.
Orestes sent me to demand them: and this fellow defies him openly!
’ And the tribune hurried out.
Raphael, sickened with disgust, half-turned to follow him: but his better angel conquered, and he obeyed the summons of the deacon who ushered him in.
Cyril was walking up and down, according to his custom, with great strides.
When he saw who was his visitor, he stopped short with a look of fierce inquiry.
Raphael entered on business at once, with a cold calm voice.
‘You know me, doubtless; and you know what I was.
I am now a Christian catechumen.
I come to make such restitution as I can for certain past ill-deeds done in this city.
You will find among these papers the trust-deeds for such a yearly sum of money as will enable you to hire a house of refuge for a hundred fallen women, and give such dowries to thirty of them yearly as will enable them to find suitable husbands.
I
have set down every detail of my plan.
On its exact fulfilment depends the continuance of my gift.
’ Cyril took the document eagerly, and was breaking out with some commonplace about pious benevolence, when the Jew stopped him.
‘Your Holiness’s compliments are unnecessary.
It is to your office, not to yourself, that this business relates.
’ Cyril, whose conscience was ill enough at ease that morning, felt abashed before Raphael’s dry and quiet manner, which bespoke, as he well knew, reproof more severe than all open upbraidings.
So looking down, not without something like a blush, he ran his eye hastily over the paper; and then said, in his blandest tone-- ‘My brother will forgive me for remarking, that while I acknowledge his perfect right to dispose of his charities as he will, it is somewhat startling to me, as Metropolitan of Egypt to find not only the Abbot Isidore of Pelusium, but the secular Defender of the Plebs, a civil officer, implicated, too, in the late conspiracy, associated with me as co-trustees.
’ ‘I have taken the advice of more than one Christian bishop on the matter.
I acknowledge your authority by my presence here.
If the Scriptures say rightly, the civil magistrates are as much God’s ministers as you; and I am therefore bound to acknowledge their authority also.
I should have preferred associating the Prefect with you in the trust: but as your dissensions with the present occupant of that post might have crippled my scheme, I have named the Defender of the Plebs, and have already put into his hands a copy of this document.
Another copy has been sent to Isidore, who is empowered to receive all moneys from my Jewish bankers in Pelusium.
’ ‘You doubt, then, either my ability or my honesty?
’ said Cyril, who was becoming somewhat nettled.
‘If your Holiness dislikes my offer, it is easy to omit your name in the deed.
One word more.
If you deliver up to justice the murderers of my friend Hypatia, I double my bequest on the spot.
’ Cyril burst out instantly-- ‘Thy money perish with thee!
Do you presume to bribe me into delivering up my children to the tyrant?
’ ‘I offer to give you the means of showing more mercy, provided that you will first do simple justice.
’ ‘Justice?
’ cried Cyril.
‘Justice?
If it be just that Peter should die, sir, see first whether it was not just that Hypatia should die.
Not that I compassed it.
As I live, I would have given my own right hand that this had not happened!
But now that it is done--let those who talk of justice look first in which scale of the balance it lies!
Do you fancy, sir, that the people do not know their enemies from their friends?
Do you fancy that they are to sit with folded hands, while a pedant makes common cause with a profligate, to drag them back again into the very black gulf of outer darkness, ignorance, brutal lust, grinding slavery, from which the Son of God died to free them, from which they are painfully and slowly struggling upward to the light of day?
You, sir, if you be a Christian catechumen, should know for yourself what would have been the fate of Alexandria had the devil’s plot of two days since succeeded.
What if the people struck too fiercely?
They struck in the right place.
What if they have given the reins to passions fit only for heathens?
Recollect the centuries of heathendom which bred those passions in them, and blame not my teaching, but the teaching of their forefathers.
That very Peter....
What if he have for once given place to the devil, and avenged where he should have forgiven?
Has he no memories which may excuse him for fancying, in a just paroxysm of dread, that idolatry and falsehood must be crushed at any risk?
--He who counts back for now three hundred years, in persecution after persecution, martyrs, sir!
martyrs--if you know what that word implies--of his own blood and kin; who, when he was but a seven years’ boy, saw his own father made a sightless cripple to this day, and his elder sister, a consecrated nun, devoured alive by swine in the open streets, at the hands of those who supported the very philosophy, the very gods, which Hypatia attempted yesterday to restore.
God shall judge such a man; not I, nor you!
’ ‘Let God judge him, then, by delivering him to God’s minister.
’ ‘God’s minister?
That heathen and apostate Prefect?
When he has expiated his apostasy by penance, and returned publicly to the bosom of the Church, it will be time enough to obey him: till then he is the minister of none but the devil.
And no ecclesiastic shall suffer at the tribunal of an infidel.
Holy Writ forbids us to go to law before the unjust.
--Let the world say of me what it will.
I defy it and its rulers.
I have to establish the kingdom of God in this city, and do it I will, knowing that other foundation can no man lay than that which is laid, which is Christ.
’ ‘Wherefore you proceed to lay it afresh.
A curious method of proving that it is laid already.
’ ‘What do you mean?
’ asked Cyril angrily.
‘Simply that God’s kingdom, if it exist at all, must be a sort of kingdom, considering Who is The King of it, which would have established itself without your help some time since; probably, indeed, if the Scriptures of my Jewish forefathers are to be believed, before the foundation of the world; and that your business was to believe that God was King of Alexandria, and had put the Roman law there to crucify all murderers, ecclesiastics included, and that crucified they must be accordingly, as high as Haman himself.
’ ‘I will hear no more of this, sir!
I am responsible to God alone, and not to you: let it be enough that by virtue of the authority committed to me, I shall cut off these men from the Church of God, by solemn excommunication, for three years to come.
’ ‘They are not cut off, then, it seems, as yet?
’ ‘I tell you, sir, that I shall cut them off!
Do you come here to doubt my word?
’ ‘Not in the least, most august sir.
But I should have fancied that, according to my carnal notions of God’s Kingdom and The Church, they had cut off themselves most effectually already, from the moment when they cast away the Spirit of God, and took to themselves the spirit of murder and cruelty; and that all which your most just and laudable excommunication could effect, would be to inform the public of that fact.
However, farewell!
My money shall be forthcoming in due time; and that is the most important matter between us at this moment.
As for your client Peter and his fellows, perhaps the most fearful punishment which can befall them, is to go on as they have begun.
I only hope that you will not follow in the same direction.
’ ‘I?
’ cried Cyril, trembling with rage.
‘Really I wish your Holiness well when I say so.
If my notions seem to you somewhat secular, yours--forgive me--seem to the somewhat atheistic;
and I advise you honestly to take care lest while you are busy trying to establish God’s kingdom, you forget what it is like, by shutting your eyes to those of its laws which are established already.
I have no doubt that with your Holiness’s great powers you will succeed in establishing something.
My only dread is, that when it is established, you should discover to your horror that it is the devil’s kingdom and not God’s. ’
