The Twilight of the Gods, and Other Tales - Richard Garnett
And so Gallienus changed his silk for steel, and departed for his Gallic
campaign, where he bore himself more stoutly than his light talk would
have led those who judged him by it to expect. Plotinus, provided with an
Imperial rescript, undertook the regulation of his philosophical
commonwealth in Campania, where a brief experience of architects and
sophists threw him into an ecstasy, not of joy, which endured an unusually
long time.
II
On awakening from his long trance, Plotinus's first sensation was one of
bodily hunger, the second of an even keener appetite for news of his
philosophical Republic. In both respects it promised well to perceive that
his chamber was occupied by his most eminent scholar, Porphyry, though he
was less gratified to observe his disciple busied, instead of with the
scrolls of the sages, with an enormous roll of accounts, which appeared to
be occasioning him much perplexity.
"Porphyry!" cried the master, and the faithful disciple was by his couch in
a moment.
We pass over the mutual joy, the greetings, the administration of
restoratives and creature comforts, the eager interrogations of Porphyry
respecting the things his master had heard and seen in his trance, which
proved to be unspeakable.
"And now," said Plotinus, who with all his mysticism was so good a man of
business that, as his biographers acquaint us, he was in special request as
a trustee, "and now, concerning this roll of thine. Is it possible that the
accounts connected with the installation of a few abstemious lovers of
wisdom can have swollen to such a prodigous bulk? But indeed, why few?
Peradventure all the philosophers of the earth have flocked to my city."
"It has, indeed," said Porphyry evasively, "been found necessary to incur
certain expenses not originally foreseen."
"For a library, perhaps?" inquired Plotinus. "I remember thinking, just
before my ecstasy, that the scrolls of the divine Plato, many of them
autographic, might require some special housing."
"I rejoice to state," rejoined Porphyry, "that it is not these volumes that
have involved us in our present difficulties with the superintendent of the
Imperial treasury, nor can they indeed, seeing that they are now
impignorated with him."
"Plato's manuscripts pawned!" exclaimed Plotinus, aghast. "Wherefore?"
"As part collateral security for expenses incurred on behalf of objects
deemed of more importance by the majority of the philosophers."
"For example?"
"Repairing bath and completing amphitheatre."
"Bath! Amphitheatre!" gasped Plotinus.
"O dear master," remonstrated Porphyry, "thou didst not deem that
philosophers could be induced to settle in a spot devoid of these
necessaries? Not a single one would have stayed if I had not yielded to
their demands, which, as regarded the bath, involved the addition of
exedrae and of a sphaeristerium."
"And what can they want with an amphitheatre?" groaned Plotinus.
"They _say_ it is for lectures," replied Porphyry; "I trust there is no
truth in the rumour that the head of the Stoics is three parts owner of a
lion of singular ferocity."
"I must see to this as soon as I can get about," said Plotinus, turning to
the accounts. "What's this? To couch and litter for head of Peripatetic
school!"
"Who is so enormously fat," explained Porphyry, "that these conveniences
are really indispensable to him. The Peripatetic school is positively at a
standstill."
"And no great matter," said Plotinus; "its master Aristotle was at best a
rationalist, without perception of the supersensual. What's this? To
Maximus, for the invocation of demons."
"That," said Porphyry, "is our own Platonic dirty linen, and I heartily
wish we were washing it elsewhere. Thou must know, dear master, that during
thy trance the theurgic movement has attained a singular development, and
that thou art regarded with disdain by thy younger disciples as one wholly
behind the age, unacquainted with the higher magic, and who can produce no
other outward and visible token of the Divine favour than the occasional
companionship of a serpent."
"I would not assert that theurgy may not be lawfully undertaken," replied
Plotinus, "provided that the adept shall have purified himself by a fast of
forty months."
"It may be from neglect of this precaution," said Porphyry, "that our
Maximus finds it so much easier to evoke the shades of Commodus and
Caracalla than those of Socrates and Marcus Aurelius; and that these good
spirits, when they do come, have no more recondite information to convey
than that virtue differs from vice, and that one's grandmother is a fitting
object of reverence."
"I fear this must expose Platonic truth to the derision of Epicurean
scoffers," remarked Plotinus.
"O master, speak not of Epicureans, still less of Stoics! Wait till thou
hast regained thy full strength, and then take counsel of some oracle."
"What meanest thou?" exclaimed Plotinus, "I insist upon knowing."
Porphyry was saved from replying by the hasty entrance of a bustling portly
personage of loud voice and imperious manner, in whom Plotinus recognised
Theocles, the chief of the Stoics.
"I rejoice, Plotinus," he began, "that thou hast at length emerged from
that condition of torpor, so unworthy of a philosopher, which I might well
designate as charlatanism were I not so firmly determined to speak no word
which can offend any man. Thou wilt now be able to reprehend the malice or
obtuseness of thy deputy, and to do me right in my contention with these
impure dogs."
"Which be they?" asked Plotinus.
"Do I not sufficiently indicate the followers of Epicurus?" demanded the
Stoic.
"O master," explained Porphyry, "in allotting and fitting up apartments
designed for the respective sects of philosophers I naturally gave heed to
what I understood to be the principles of each. To the Epicureans, as
lovers of pleasure and luxury, I assigned the most commodious quarters,
furnished the same with soft cushions and costly hangings, and provided a
liberal table. I should have deemed it insulting to have offered any of
these things to the frugal followers of Zeno, and nothing can surpass my
astonishment at the manner in which the austere Theocles has incessantly
persecuted me for choice food and wine, stately rooms and soft couches."
"O Plotinus," replied Theocles, "let me make the grounds of my conduct
clear to thee. In the first place, the honour of my school is in my
keeping. What will the vulgar think when they see the sty of Epicurus
sumptuously adorned, and the porch of Zeno shabby and bare? Will they not
deem that the Epicureans are highly respected and the Stoics made of little
account? Furthermore, how can I and my disciples manifest our contempt for
gold, dainties, wine, fine linen, and all the other instruments of luxury,
unless we have them to despise? Shall we not appear like foxes, vilipending
the grapes that we cannot reach? Not so; offer me delicacies that I may
reject them, wine that I may pour it into the kennel, Tyrian purple that I
may trample upon it, gold that I may fling it away; if it break an
Epicurean's head, so much the better."
"Plotinus," said Hermon, the chief of the Epicureans, who had meanwhile
entered the apartment, "let this hypocrite have what he wants, and send him
away. I and my followers are perfectly willing to remove at once into the
inferior apartments, and leave ours for his occupation with all their
furniture, and the reversion of our bill of fare. Thou should'st know that
the imputations of the vulgar against our sect are the grossest calumnies.
The Epicurean places happiness in tranquil enjoyment, not in luxury or
sensual pleasures. There is not a thing I possess which I am not perfectly
willing to resign, except the society of my female disciple."
"Thy female disciple!" exclaimed the horrified Plotinus. "Thou art worse
than the Stoic!"
"Plotinus," said the Epicurean, "consider well ere, as is the manner of
Platonists, thou committest thyself to a proposition of a transparently
foolish nature. Thou desirest to gather all sorts of philosophers around
thee, but to what end, if they are restrained from manifesting their
characteristic tenets? Thou mightest as well seek to illustrate the habits
of animals by establishing a menagerie in which panthers should eat grass,
and antelopes be dieted on rabbits. An Epicurean without his female
companion, unless by his own choice, is no more an Epicurean than a Cynic
is a Cynic without his rags and his impudence. Wilt thou take from me my
Pannychis, an object pleasing to the eye, and leave yonder fellow his
tatters and his vermin?"
The apartment had gradually filled with philosophers, and Hermon was
pointing to a follower of Diogenes whose robe so fully bespoke his
obedience to his master's precepts that his skin seemed almost clean in
comparison.
"Consider also," continued the Epicurean, "that thou art thyself by no
means exempt from scandal."
"What does the man mean?" demanded Plotinus, turning to Porphyry.
"Get them away," whispered the disciple, "and I will tell thee."
Plotinus hastily conceded the point raised with reference to the
interesting Pannychis, and the philosophers went off to effect their
exchange of quarters. As soon as the room was clear, he repeated:
"What _does_ the man mean?"
"I suppose he is thinking of Leaena," said Porphyry.
"The most notorious character in Rome, who, finding her charms on the wane,
has lately betaken herself to philosophy?"
"The same."
"What of her?"
"She has followed thee here. She affects the greatest devotion to thee. She
vows that nothing shall make her budge until thou hast recovered from thy
ecstasy, and admitted her as thy disciple. She has rejected numerous
overtures from the philosopher Theocles; entirely for thy sake, she
affirms. She comes three times a day to inquire respecting thy condition,
and I fear it must be acknowledged that she has once or twice managed to
get into thy chamber."
"O ye immortal Gods!" groaned Plotinus.
"Here she is!" exclaimed Porphyry, as a woman of masculine stature and
bearing, with the remains of beauty not unskilfully patched, forced an
entrance into the room.
"Plotinus," she exclaimed, "behold the most impassioned of thy disciples.
Let us celebrate the mystic nuptials of Wisdom and Beauty. Let the claims
of my sex to philosophic distinction be vindicated in my person."
"The question of the admission of women to share the studies and society of
men," rejoined Plotinus, "is one by no means exempt from difficulty."
"How so? I deemed it had been determined long ago in favour of Aspasia?"
"Aspasia," said Plotinus, "was a very exceptional woman."
"And am not I?"
"I hope, that is, I conceive so," said Plotinus. "But one may be an
exceptional woman without being an Aspasia."
"How so? Am I inferior to Aspasia in beauty?"
"I should hope not," said Plotinus ambiguously.
"Or in the irregularity of my deportment?"
"I should think not," said Plotinus, with more confidence.
"Then why does the Plato of our age hesitate to welcome his Diotima?"
"Because," said Plotinus, "you are not Diotima, and I am not Plato."
"I am sure I am as much like Diotima as you are like Plato," retorted the
lady. "But let us come to our own time. Do I not hear that that creature
Pannychis has obtained the freedom of the philosophers' city, and the right
to study therein?"
"She takes private lessons from Hermon, who is responsible for her."
"The very thing!" exclaimed Leaena triumphantly. "I take private lessons
from thee, and thou art responsible for me. Venus! what's that?"
The exclamation was prompted by the sudden appearance of an enormous
serpent, which, emerging from a chink in the wall, glided swiftly towards
the couch of Plotinus. He reached forward to greet it, uttering a cry of
pleasure.
"My guardian, my tutelary daemon," he exclaimed, "visible manifestation of
AEsculapius! Then I am not forsaken by the immortal gods."
"Take away the monster," cried Leaena, in violent agitation, "the nasty
thing! Plotinus, how can you? Oh, I shall faint! I shall die! Take it away,
I say. You must choose between it and me."
"Then, Madam," said Plotinus, civilly but firmly, "I choose _it_."
"Thank AEsculapius we are rid of her," he added, as Leaena vanished from
the apartment.
"I wish I knew that," said Porphyry.
And indeed after no long time a note came up from Theocles, who was sure
that Plotinus would not refuse him that privilege of instructing a female
disciple which had been already, with such manifest advantage to
philosophical research, accorded to his colleague Hermon. No objection
could well be made, especially as Plotinus did not foresee how many
chambermaids, and pages, and cooks, and perfumers, and tiring women and
bath attendants would be required, ere Leaena could feel herself moderately
comfortable. How unlike the modest Pannychis! who wanted but half a bed,
which need not be stuffed with the down of hares or the feathers of
partridges, without which sleep refused to visit Leaena's eyelids.
It was natural that Plotinus should appeal to Gallienus, now returned from
the Gallic expedition, but he could extract nothing save mysterious
intimations that the Emperor had his eye upon the philosophers, and that
they might find him among them when they least expected it. Plotinus's
spirits drooped, and Porphyry was almost glad when he again relapsed into
an ecstasy.
III
When Plotinus's eyes were at length opened, they fell not this time upon
the faithful Porphyry, but upon two youthful followers of Plato who were
beguiling the tedium of their vigil at his bedside by a game of dice, which
prevented their observing his resuscitation. After a moment's hesitation
Plotinus resolved to lie quiet in the hopes of hearing something that might
indicate what influences were in the ascendant in the philosophical
republic. He had not long to wait.
"Dice is dull work for long," said one of the young men, indolently
throwing himself back, and letting his caster fall upon the floor. "To
think how much better one might be employed, but for having to watch this
old fool here! I've a great mind to call up a slave."
"All the slaves are sure to have gone to the show, unless any of them
should be Christians. Besides, Porphyry would hear you, he's only in a
cat's sleep," returned his companion.
"Well, I mean to say it's a shame. All the town will be in the theatre by
this time."
"How many gladiators, said you?"
"Forty pairs, the best show Campania has seen time out of mind."
"How has it all come about?"
"Oh, news comes of the death of Postumus, killed by his own soldiers, and
this passes as a great victory for want of a better, 'We must have a day
of thanksgiving,' says Theocles. 'Right,' says Leaena, 'I am dying to see
an exhibition of gladiators.' Theocles demurs at first, expecting to have
to find the money--but Leaena tugs at his beard, and he gives in. Just at
the nick of time the right sort of fellow pops up nobody knows whence, a
lanista with hair like curling helichryse, as Theocritus has it, and a
small army of gladiators, whom, out of devotion to the Emperor, he offers
to exhibit for nothing. Who so pleased as Theocles now? He takes the chair
as archon with Leaena by his side, and off goes every soul in the place,
except Pannychis, who cannot bear the sight of blood, and Porphyry, who is
an outrageous humanitarian, and us poor devils left in charge of this old
dreamer."
"Couldn't we leave him to mind himself? He isn't likely to awake yet."
"Try him with your cloak-pin." The student detached the implement in
question, which was about the size of a small stiletto. Feeling uncertain
what part of his person was to be the subject of experiment, Plotinus
judged it advisable to manifest his recovery in an unmistakable fashion.
"O dear Master, what joy!" cried both the students in a breath. "Porphyry!
Porphyry!"
The trusty scholar appeared immediately, and under pretence of fetching
food, the two neophytes eloped to the amphitheatre.
"What means all this, Porphyry?" demanded Plotinus sternly. "The City of
Philosophers polluted by human blood! The lovers of wisdom mingling with
the dregs of the rabble!"
Porphyry's account, which Plotinus could only extract by consenting to eat
while his disciple talked, corresponded in all essential particulars with
that of the two young men.
"And I see not," added he, "what we can do in the matter. This abomination
is supposed to be in honour of the Emperor's victories. If we interfere
with it we shall be executed as rebels, supposing that we are not first
torn to pieces as rioters."
"Porphyry," replied Plotinus, "I should esteem this disgrace to philosophy
a disgrace to myself if I did not my utmost to avert it. Remain thou here,
and perform my funeral rites if it be necessary."
But to this Porphyry would by no means consent, and the two philosophers
proceeded to the amphitheatre together. It was so crowded that there was no
room on the seats for another person. Theocles was enthroned in the chair
of honour, his beard manifesting evident traces of the depilatories
administered by Leaena, who nevertheless sat by his side, her voluptuous
face gloating over the anticipated banquet of agony. The philosophic part
of the spectators were ranged all around, the remaining seats were occupied
by a miscellaneous public. The master of the gladiators, a man of
distinguished appearance, whose yellow locks gave him the aspect of a
barbarian prince, stood in the arena surrounded by his myrmidons. The entry
of Plotinus and Porphyry attracted his attention: he motioned to his
followers, and in an instant the philosophers were seized, bound, and
gagged without the excited assembly being in the least conscious of their
presence.
Two men stepped out into the arena, both fine and attractive figures. The
athletic limbs, the fair complexion, the curling yellow hair of one
proclaimed the Goth; he lightly swung his huge sword in his right hand, and
looked as if his sole arm would easily put to flight the crowd of
effeminate spectators. The other's beauty was of another sort; young,
slender, pensive, spiritual, he looked like anything rather than a
gladiator, and held his downward pointed sword with a negligent grasp.
"Guard thyself!" cried the Goth, placing himself in an attitude of offence.
"I spill not the blood of a fellow-creature," answered the other, casting
his sword away from him.
"Coward!" yelled well-nigh every voice in the amphitheatre.
"No," answered the youth with a grave smile, "Christian."
His shield and helmet followed his sword, he stood entirely defenceless
before his adversary.
"Throw him to my lion," cried Theocles.
"Or thy lioness," suggested Hermon.
This allusion to Leaena provoked a burst of laughter. Suddenly the Goth
aimed a mighty blow at the head of the unresisting man. A shorn curl fell
to the ground, the consummate skill of the swordsman averted all further
contact between his blade and the Christian, who remained erect and
smiling, without having moved a muscle or an eyelash.
"Master," said the Goth, addressing the lanista, "I had rather fight ten
armed men than this unarmed one."
"Good," returned his lord, with a gesture of approval. "Retire both of
you."
A roar of disapprobation broke out from the spectators, which seemed not to
produce the slightest effect on the lanista.
"Turn out the next pair," they cried.
"I shall not," said he.
"Wherefore?"
"Because I do not choose."
"Rogue! Cheat! Swindler! Cast him into prison! Throw him to the lion!" Such
epithets and recommendations rained from the spectators' seats, accompanied
by a pelting of more substantial missiles. In an instant the yellow hair
and common dress lay on the ground, and those who knew him not by the
features could by the Imperial ornaments recognise the Emperor Gallienus.
With no less celerity his followers, the Goth and the Christian excepted,
disencumbered themselves of their exterior vesture, and stood forward in
the character of Roman soldiers.
"Friends," cried Gallienus, turning to the plebeian multitude, "I am not
about to balk you of your sport."
At a sign from him the legionaries ascended to the seats allotted to the
philosophic portion of the audience, and a torrent of wisdom in their
persons, including that of Leaena, flung forth with the energy of a
catapult, descended abruptly and violently to the earth. They were
instantly seized and dragged into an erect attitude by the remainder of the
soldiery, who, amid the most tempestuous peals of laughter and applause
from the delighted public, thrust swords into their hands, ranged them in
opposite ranks, and summoned them to begin the fight and quit themselves
like men. It was equally ludicrous and pitiable to see the bald, mostly
grey-bearded men, their garments torn in their expulsion and their persons
bruised by the fall, confronting each other with quaking limbs, helplessly
brandishing their weapons or feebly calling their adversaries to come on,
while the soldiers prodded them from behind with spears, and urged them
into the close quarters they so anxiously desired to avoid. Plotinus,
helpless with his bonds and gag, looked on in impotent horror. Gallienus
was often cruel, but could he intend such a revolting massacre? There must
be something behind.
The honour of developing the Emperor's purpose was reserved for Theocles,
who, with admirable presence of mind, had ever since he found he must fight
been engaged in trying to select the weakest antagonist. After hesitating
between the unwieldy chief of the Peripatetics and the feminine Leaena he
fixed on the latter, partly moved, perhaps, by the hope of avenging his
beard. With a martial cry he sprang towards her, and upraised his weapon
for a swashing blow. But he had sadly miscalculated. Leaena was hardly less
versed in the combats of Mars than in those of Venus, having, in fact,
commenced her distinguished career as a camp-follower of the Emperor
Gordian. A tremendous stroke caught him on the hand; his blade dropped to
the earth; why did not the fingers follow? Leaena elucidated the problem by
a still more violent blow on his face; torrents of blood gushed forth
indeed, but only from the nose. The sword doubled up; it had neither point
nor edge. Encouraged by this opportune discovery the philosophers attacked
each other with infinite spirit and valour. Infuriated by the blows given
and received, by the pokings and proddings of the military, and the
hilarious derision of the public, they cast away the shivered blades and
resorted to the weapons of Nature. They kicked, they cuffed, they
scratched, they tore the garments from each other's shoulders, they foamed
and rolled gasping in the yellow sand of the arena. At a signal from the
Emperor the portal of the amphitheatre was thrown open, and the whole mass
of clawing and cuffing philosophy was bundled ignominiously into the
street.
By this time Gallienus was seated on his tribunal, and Plotinus, released
from his bonds, was standing by his side.
"O Emperor," he murmured, deeply abashed, "what can I urge? Thou wilt
surely demolish my city!"
"No, Plotinus," replied Gallienus, pointing to the Goth and the Christian,
"there are the men who will destroy the City of Philosophers. Would that
were all they will destroy!"
THE DEMON POPE
"So you won't sell me your soul?" said the devil.
"Thank you," replied the student, "I had rather keep it myself, if it's all
the same to you."
"But it's not all the same to me. I want it very particularly. Come, I'll
be liberal. I said twenty years. You can have thirty."
The student shook his head.
"Forty!"
Another shake.
"Fifty!"
As before.
"Now," said the devil, "I know I'm going to do a foolish thing, but I
cannot bear to see a clever, spirited young man throw himself away. I'll
make you another kind of offer. We won't have any bargain at present, but I
will push you on in the world for the next forty years. This day forty
years I come back and ask you for a boon; not your soul, mind, or anything
not perfectly in your power to grant. If you give it, we are quits; if not,
I fly away with you. What say you to this?"
The student reflected for some minutes. "Agreed," he said at last.
Scarcely had the devil disappeared, which he did instantaneously, ere a
messenger reined in his smoking steed at the gate of the University of
Cordova (the judicious reader will already have remarked that Lucifer could
never have been allowed inside a Christian seat of learning), and,
inquiring for the student Gerbert, presented him with the Emperor Otho's
nomination to the Abbacy of Bobbio, in consideration, said the document, of
his virtue and learning, well-nigh miraculous in one so young. Such
messengers were frequent visitors during Gerbert's prosperous career.
Abbot, bishop, archbishop, cardinal, he was ultimately enthroned Pope on
April 2, 999, and assumed the appellation of Silvester the Second. It was
then a general belief that the world would come to an end in the following
year, a catastrophe which to many seemed the more imminent from the
election of a chief pastor whose celebrity as a theologian, though not
inconsiderable, by no means equalled his reputation as a necromancer.