Chapter IV
THE TEMPLE OF ISIS. ITS PRIEST. THE CHARACTER OF ARBACES DEVELOPSITSELF.
THE story returns to the Egyptian. We left Arbaces upon the shores ofthe noonday sea, after he had parted from Glaucus and his companion. Ashe approached to the more crowded part of the bay, he paused and gazedupon that animated scene with folded arms, and a bitter smile upon hisdark features.
'Gulls, dupes, fools, that ye are!' muttered he to himself; 'whetherbusiness or pleasure, trade or religion, be your pursuit, you areequally cheated by the passions that ye should rule! How I could loatheyou, if I did not hate--yes, hate! Greek or Roman, it is from us, fromthe dark lore of Egypt, that ye have stolen the fire that gives yousouls. Your knowledge--your poesy--your laws--your arts--your barbarousmastery of war (all how tame and mutilated, when compared with the vastoriginal!)--ye have filched, as a slave filches the fragments of thefeast, from us! And now, ye mimics of a mimic!--Romans, forsooth! themushroom herd of robbers! ye are our masters! the pyramids look down nomore on the race of Rameses--the eagle cowers over the serpent of theNile. Our masters--no, not mine. My soul, by the power of its wisdom,controls and chains you, though the fetters are unseen. So long ascraft can master force, so long as religion has a cave from whichoracles can dupe mankind, the wise hold an empire over earth. Even fromyour vices Arbaces distills his pleasures--pleasures unprofaned byvulgar eyes--pleasures vast, wealthy, inexhaustible, of which yourenervate minds, in their unimaginative sensuality, cannot conceive ordream! Plod on, plod on, fools of ambition and of avarice! your pettythirst for fasces and quaestorships, and all the mummery of servilepower, provokes my laughter and my scorn. My power can extend whereverman believes. I ride over the souls that the purple veils. Thebes mayfall, Egypt be a name; the world itself furnishes the subjects ofArbaces.'
Thus saying, the Egyptian moved slowly on; and, entering the town, histall figure towered above the crowded throng of the forum, and swepttowards the small but graceful temple consecrated to Isis.
That edifice was then but of recent erection; the ancient temple hadbeen thrown down in the earthquake sixteen years before, and the newbuilding had become as much in vogue with the versatile Pompeians as anew church or a new preacher may be with us. The oracles of the goddessat Pompeii were indeed remarkable, not more for the mysterious languagein which they were clothed, than for the credit which was attached totheir mandates and predictions. If they were not dictated by adivinity, they were framed at least by a profound knowledge of mankind;they applied themselves exactly to the circumstances of individuals, andmade a notable contrast to the vague and loose generalities of theirrival temples. As Arbaces now arrived at the rails which separated theprofane from the sacred place, a crowd, composed of all classes, butespecially of the commercial, collected, breathless and reverential,before the many altars which rose in the open court. In the walls ofthe cella, elevated on seven steps of Parian marble, various statuesstood in niches, and those walls were ornamented with the pomegranateconsecrated to Isis. An oblong pedestal occupied the interior building,on which stood two statues, one of Isis, and its companion representedthe silent and mystic Orus. But the building contained many otherdeities to grace the court of the Egyptian deity: her kindred andmany-titled Bacchus, and the Cyprian Venus, a Grecian disguise forherself, rising from her bath, and the dog-headed Anubis, and the oxApis, and various Egyptian idols of uncouth form and unknownappellations.
But we must not suppose that among the cities of Magna Graecia, Isis wasworshipped with those forms and ceremonies which were of right her own.The mongrel and modern nations of the South, with a mingled arroganceand ignorance, confounded the worships of all climes and ages. And theprofound mysteries of the Nile were degraded by a hundred meretriciousand frivolous admixtures from the creeds of Cephisus and of Tibur. Thetemple of Isis in Pompeii was served by Roman and Greek priests,ignorant alike of the language and the customs of her ancient votaries;and the descendant of the dread Egyptian kings, beneath the appearanceof reverential awe, secretly laughed to scorn the puny mummeries whichimitated the solemn and typical worship of his burning clime.
Ranged now on either side the steps was the sacrificial crowd, arrayedin white garments, while at the summit stood two of the inferiorpriests, the one holding a palm branch, the other a slender sheaf ofcorn. In the narrow passage in front thronged the bystanders.
'And what,' whispered Arbaces to one of the bystanders, who was amerchant engaged in the Alexandrian trade, which trade had probablyfirst introduced in Pompeii the worship of the Egyptian goddess--'whatoccasion now assembles you before the altars of the venerable Isis? Itseems, by the white robes of the group before me, that a sacrifice is tobe rendered; and by the assembly of the priests, that ye are preparedfor some oracle. To what question is it to vouchsafe a reply?'
'We are merchants,' replied the bystander (who was no other than Diomed)in the same voice, 'who seek to know the fate of our vessels, which sailfor Alexandria to-morrow. We are about to offer up a sacrifice andimplore an answer from the goddess. I am not one of those who havepetitioned the priest to sacrifice, as you may see by my dress, but Ihave some interest in the success of the fleet--by Jupiter! yes. I havea pretty trade, else how could I live in these hard times?
The Egyptian replied gravely--'That though Isis was properly the goddessof agriculture, she was no less the patron of commerce.' Then turninghis head towards the east, Arbaces seemed absorbed in silent prayer.
And now in the centre of the steps appeared a priest robed in white fromhead to foot, the veil parting over the crown; two new priests relievedthose hitherto stationed at either corner, being naked half-way down tothe breast, and covered, for the rest, in white and loose robes. At thesame time, seated at the bottom of the steps, a priest commenced asolemn air upon a long wind-instrument of music. Half-way down thesteps stood another flamen, holding in one hand the votive wreath, inthe other a white wand; while, adding to the picturesque scene of thateastern ceremony, the stately ibis (bird sacred to the Egyptian worship)looked mutely down from the wall upon the rite, or stalked beside thealtar at the base of the steps.
At that altar now stood the sacrificial flamen.
The countenance of Arbaces seemed to lose all its rigid calm while thearuspices inspected the entrails, and to be intent in pious anxiety--torejoice and brighten as the signs were declared favorable, and the firebegan bright and clearly to consume the sacred portion of the victimamidst odorous of myrrh and frankincense. It was then that a deadsilence fell over the whispering crowd, and the priests gathering roundthe cella, another priest, naked save by a cincture round the middle,rushed forward, and dancing with wild gestures, implored an answer fromthe goddess. He ceased at last in exhaustion, and a low murmuring noisewas heard within the body of the statue: thrice the head moved, and thelips parted, and then a hollow voice uttered these mystic words:
There are waves like chargers that meet and glow, There are graves ready wrought in the rocks below, On the brow of the future the dangers lour, But blest are your barks in the fearful hour.
The voice ceased--the crowd breathed more freely--the merchants lookedat each other. 'Nothing can be more plain,' murmured Diomed; 'there isto be a storm at sea, as there very often is at the beginning of autumn,but our vessels are to be saved. O beneficent Isis!'
'Lauded eternally be the goddess!' said the merchants: 'what can be lessequivocal than her prediction?'
Raising one hand in sign of silence to the people, for the rites of Isisenjoined what to the lively Pompeians was an impossible suspense fromthe use of the vocal organs, the chief priest poured his libation on thealtar, and after a short concluding prayer the ceremony was over, andthe congregation dismissed. Still, however, as the crowd dispersedthemselves here and there, the Egyptian lingered by the railing, andwhen the space became tolerably cleared, one of the priests, approachingit, saluted him with great appearance of friendly familiarity.
The countenance of the
priest was remarkably unprepossessing--his shavenskull was so low and narrow in the front as nearly to approach to theconformation of that of an African savage, save only towards thetemples, where, in that organ styled acquisitiveness by the pupils of ascience modern in name, but best practically known (as their sculptureteaches us) amongst the ancients, two huge and almost preternaturalprotuberances yet more distorted the unshapely head--around the browsthe skin was puckered into a web of deep and intricate wrinkles--theeyes, dark and small, rolled in a muddy and yellow orbit--the nose,short yet coarse, was distended at the nostrils like a satyr's--and thethick but pallid lips, the high cheek-bones, the livid and motley huesthat struggled through the parchment skin, completed a countenance whichnone could behold without repugnance, and few without terror anddistrust: whatever the wishes of the mind, the animal frame was wellfitted to execute them; the wiry muscles of the throat, the broad chest,the nervous hands and lean gaunt arms, which were bared above the elbow,betokened a form capable alike of great active exertion and passiveendurance.
'Calenus,' said the Egyptian to this fascinating flamen, 'you haveimproved the voice of the statue much by attending to my suggestion; andyour verses are excellent. Always prophesy good fortune, unless thereis an absolute impossibility of its fulfilment.'
'Besides,' added Calenus, 'if the storm does come, and if it doesoverwhelm the accursed ships, have we not prophesied it? and are thebarks not blest to be at rest?--for rest prays the mariner in the AEgeansea, or at least so says Horace--can the mariner be more at rest in thesea than when he is at the bottom of it?'
'Right, my Calenus; I wish Apaecides would take a lesson from yourwisdom. But I desire to confer with you relative to him and to othermatters: you can admit me into one of your less sacred apartments?'
'Assuredly,' replied the priest, leading the way to one of the smallchambers which surrounded the open gate. Here they seated themselvesbefore a small table spread with dishes containing fruit and eggs, andvarious cold meats, with vases of excellent wine, of which while thecompanions partook, a curtain, drawn across the entrance opening to thecourt, concealed them from view, but admonished them by the thinness ofthe partition to speak low, or to speak no secrets: they chose theformer alternative.
'Thou knowest,' said Arbaces, in a voice that scarcely stirred the air,so soft and inward was its sound, 'that it has ever been my maxim toattach myself to the young. From their flexile and unformed minds I cancarve out my fittest tools. I weave--I warp--I mould them at my will.Of the men I make merely followers or servants; of the women...'
'Mistresses,' said Calenus, as a livid grin distorted his ungainlyfeatures.
'Yes, I do not disguise it: woman is the main object, the greatappetite, of my soul. As you feed the victim for the slaughter, I loveto rear the votaries of my pleasure. I love to train, to ripen theirminds--to unfold the sweet blossom of their hidden passions, in order toprepare the fruit to my taste. I loathe your ready-made and ripenedcourtesans; it is in the soft and unconscious progress of innocence todesire that I find the true charm of love; it is thus that I defysatiety; and by contemplating the freshness of others, I sustain thefreshness of my own sensations. From the young hearts of my victims Idraw the ingredients of the caldron in which I re-youth myself. Butenough of this: to the subject before us. You know, then, that inNeapolis some time since I encountered Ione and Apaecides, brother andsister, the children of Athenians who had settled at Neapolis. The deathof their parents, who knew and esteemed me, constituted me theirguardian. I was not unmindful of the trust. The youth, docile and mild,yielded readily to the impression I sought to stamp upon him. Next towoman, I love the old recollections of my ancestral land; I love to keepalive--to propagate on distant shores (which her colonies perchance yetpeople) her dark and mystic creeds. It may be, that it pleases me todelude mankind, while I thus serve the deities. To Apaecides I taughtthe solemn faith of Isis. I unfolded to him something of those sublimeallegories which are couched beneath her worship. I excited in a soulpeculiarly alive to religious fervor that enthusiasm which imaginationbegets on faith. I have placed him amongst you: he is one of you.'
'He is so,' said Calenus: 'but in thus stimulating his faith, you haverobbed him of wisdom. He is horror-struck that he is no longer duped:our sage delusions, our speaking statues and secret staircases dismayand revolt him; he pines; he wastes away; he mutters to himself; herefuses to share our ceremonies. He has been known to frequent thecompany of men suspected of adherence to that new and atheistical creedwhich denies all our gods, and terms our oracles the inspirations ofthat malevolent spirit of which eastern tradition speaks. Ouroracles--alas! we know well whose inspirations they are!'
'This is what I feared,' said Arbaces, musingly, 'from variousreproaches he made me when I last saw him. Of late he hath shunned mysteps. I must find him: I must continue my lessons: I must lead himinto the adytum of Wisdom. I must teach him that there are two stages ofsanctity--the first, FAITH--the next, DELUSION; the one for the vulgar,the second for the sage.'
'I never passed through the first, I said Calenus; 'nor you either, Ithink, my Arbaces.'
'You err,' replied the Egyptian, gravely. 'I believe at this day (notindeed that which I teach, but that which I teach not). Nature has asanctity against which I cannot (nor would I) steel conviction. Ibelieve in mine own knowledge, and that has revealed to me--but nomatter. Now to earthlier and more inviting themes. If I thus fulfilledmy object with Apaecides, what was my design for Ione? Thou knowestalready I intend her for my queen--my bride--my heart's Isis. Nevertill I saw her knew I all the love of which my nature is capable.'
'I hear from a thousand lips that she is a second Helen,' said Calenus;and he smacked his own lips, but whether at the wine or at the notion itis not easy to decide.
'Yes, she has a beauty that Greece itself never excelled,' resumedArbaces. 'But that is not all: she has a soul worthy to match with mine.She has a genius beyond that of woman--keen--dazzling--bold. Poetryflows spontaneous to her lips: utter but a truth, and, however intricateand profound, her mind seizes and commands it. Her imagination and herreason are not at war with each other; they harmonize and direct hercourse as the winds and the waves direct some lofty bark. With this sheunites a daring independence of thought; she can stand alone in theworld; she can be brave as she is gentle; this is the nature I havesought all my life in woman, and never found till now. Ione must bemine! In her I have a double passion; I wish to enjoy a beauty ofspirit as of form.'
'She is not yours yet, then?' said the priest.
'No; she loves me--but as a friend--she loves me with her mind only.She fancies in me the paltry virtues which I have only the profoundervirtue to disdain. But you must pursue with me her history. The brotherand sister were young and rich: Ione is proud and ambitious--proud ofher genius--the magic of her poetry--the charm of her conversation.When her brother left me, and entered your temple, in order to be nearhim she removed also to Pompeii. She has suffered her talents to beknown. She summons crowds to her feasts; her voice enchants them; herpoetry subdues. She delights in being thought the successor of Erinna.'
'Or of Sappho?'
'But Sappho without love! I encouraged her in this boldness ofcareer--in this indulgence of vanity and of pleasure. I loved to steepher amidst the dissipations and luxury of this abandoned city. Mark me,Calenus! I desired to enervate her mind!--it has been too pure toreceive yet the breath which I wish not to pass, but burningly to eatinto, the mirror. I wished her to be surrounded by lovers, hollow,vain, and frivolous (lovers that her nature must despise), in order tofeel the want of love. Then, in those soft intervals of lassitudethat succeed to excitement--I can weave my spells--excite herinterest--attract her passions--possess myself of her heart. For it isnot the young, nor the beautiful, nor the gay, that should fascinateIone; her imagination must be won, and the life of Arbaces has been onescene of triumph over the imaginations of his kind.'
'And hast thou no fear, then, o
f thy rivals? The gallants of Italy areskilled in the art to please.'
'None! Her Greek soul despises the barbarian Romans, and would scornitself if it admitted a thought of love for one of that upstart race.'
'But thou art an Egyptian, not a Greek!'
'Egypt,' replied Arbaces, 'is the mother of Athens. Her tutelaryMinerva is our deity; and her founder, Cecrops, was the fugitive ofEgyptian Sais. This have I already taught to her; and in my blood shevenerates the eldest dynasties of earth. But yet I will own that oflate some uneasy suspicions have crossed my mind. She is more silentthan she used to be; she loves melancholy and subduing music; she sighswithout an outward cause. This may be the beginning of love--it may bethe want of love. In either case it is time for me to begin myoperations on her fancies and her heart: in the one case, to divert thesource of love to me; in the other, in me to awaken it. It is for thisthat I have sought you.'
'And how can I assist you?'
'I am about to invite her to a feast in my house: I wish to dazzle--tobewilder--to inflame her senses. Our arts--the arts by which Egypttrained her young novitiates--must be employed; and, under veil of themysteries of religion, I will open to her the secrets of love.'
'Ah! now I understand:--one of those voluptuous banquets that, despiteour dull vows of mortified coldness, we, the priests of Isis, haveshared at thy house.'
'No, no! Thinkest thou her chaste eyes are ripe for such scenes? No;but first we must ensnare the brother--an easier task. Listen to me,while I give you my instructions.'
The Last Days of Pompeii Page 4