The Prince of India; Or, Why Constantinople Fell — Volume 01

by Lew Wallace

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE ACADEMY OF EPICURUS

  "I would have a word with you," the Greek said, in a low tone, asSergius was proceeding to the door.

  "But thy father is suffering, and I must make haste."

  "I will accompany thee."

  Sergius stopped while the young man went to the cot, removed his hatand knelt, saying, "Thy blessing, father."

  The Hegumen laid a hand on the petitioner's head.

  "My son, I have not seen thee for many days," he said; "yet in hopethat thou hast heard me, and abandoned the associates who have beenendangering thy soul and my good name, and because I love thee--Godknows how well--and remember thy mother, who lived illustrating everybeatitude, and died in grace, praying for thee, take thou my blessing."

  With tears starting in his own eyes, Sergius doubted not the effect ofthe reproof upon the son; and he pitied him, and even regrettedremaining to witness the outburst of penitence and grief he imaginedforthcoming. The object of his sympathy took down the hand, kissed itin a matter-of-fact way, arose, and said, carelessly: "This lamentationshould cease. Why can I not get you to understand, father, that thereis a new Byzantium? That even in the Hippodrome nothing is as it usedto be except the colors? How often have I explained to you the latestsocial discovery admitted now by everybody outside the religiousorders, and by many within them--I mean the curative element in sin."

  "Curative element in sin!" exclaimed the father.

  "Ay--Pleasure."

  "O God!" sighed the old man, turning his face hopelessly to the wall,"Whither are we drifting?"

  He hardly heard the prodigal's farewell.

  "If you wish to speak with me, stay here until I return."

  This Sergius said when the two passed out of the cell. Going down thedarkened passage, he glanced behind him, and saw the Greek outside thedoor; and when he came back with the Hegumen's breakfast, and reenteredthe apartment, he brushed by him still on the outside. At the cot,Sergius offered the refreshment on his knees, and in that posturewaited while his superior partook of it; for he discerned how the agedheart was doubly stricken--once for the Church, deserted by so many ofits children, and again for himself, forsaken by his own son.

  "What happiness to me, O Sergius, wert thou of my flesh and blood!"

  The expression covered every feeling evoked by the situation.Afterwhile another of the Brotherhood appeared, permitting Sergius toretire.

  "I am ready to hear you now," he said, to the Greek at the door.

  "Let us to your cell then."

  In the cell, Sergius drew forth the one stool permitted him by therules of the Brotherhood.

  "Be seated," he said.

  "No," the visitor returned, "I shall be brief. You do not know myfather. The St. James' should relieve him of active duty. His years aresadly enfeebling him."

  "But that would be ungrateful in them."

  "Heaven knows," the prodigal continued, complainingly, "how I havelabored to bring him up abreast of the time; he lives entirely in thepast. But pardon me; if I heard aright, my father called you Sergius."

  "That is my monastic name."

  "You are not a Greek?"

  "The Great Prince is my political sovereign."

  "Well, I am Demedes. My father christened me Metrophanes, after thelate Patriarch; but it did not please me, and I have entitled myself.And now we know each other, let us be friends."

  Sergius' veil had fallen over his face, and while replacing it underthe hat, he replied, "I shall strive, Demedes, to love you as I lovemyself."

  The Greek, it should be remembered, was good featured, and of apleasant manner; so much so, indeed, as to partially recompense him forhis failure in stature; wherefore the overture was by no meansrepulsive.

  "You may wonder at my plucking you from my father's side; you maywonder still more at my presumption in seeking to attach myself to you;but I think my reasons good.... In the first place, it is my duty toacknowledge that but for your interference yesterday the giganticenergumen by whom I was unexpectedly beset would have slain me. Infact, I had given myself up for lost. The rocks at the foot of the wallseemed springing out of the water to catch me, and break every bone inmy body. You will accept my thanks, will you not?"

  "The saving two fellow beings, one from murder, the other from beingmurdered, is not, in my opinion, an act for thanks; still, to ease youof a sense of obligation, I consent to the acknowledgment."

  "It does relieve me," Demedes said, with a taking air; "and I amencouraged to go on."

  He paused, and surveyed Sergius deliberately from head to foot, and theadmiration he permitted to be seen, taken as a second to his continuingwords, could not have been improved by a professed actor.

  "Are not flesh and blood of the same significance in all of us? Withyouth and health superadded to a glorious physical structure, may wenot always conclude a man rich in spirit and lusty impulses? Is itpossible a gown and priestly hat can entirely suppress his humannature? I have heard of Anthony the Anchorite."

  The idea excited his humor, and he laughed.

  "I mean no irreverence," he resumed; "but you know, dear Sergius, it iswith laughter as with tears, we cannot always control it.... Anthonyresolved to be a Saint, but was troubled by visions of beautiful women.To escape them, he followed some children of Islam into the desert.Alas! the visions went with him. He burrowed then in a tomb--still thevisions. He hid next in the cellar of an old castle--in vain--thevisions found him out. He flagellated himself for eighty and nineyears, every day and night of which was a battle with the visions. Heleft two sheepskins to as many bishops, and one haircloth shirt to twofavorite disciples--they had been his armor against the visions.Finally, lest the seductive goblins should assail him in death, he badethe disciples lose him by burial in an unknown place. Sergius, my goodfriend"--here the Greek drew nearer, and laid a hand lightly on themonk's flowing sleeve--"I heard some of your replies to my father, andrespect your genius too much to do more than ask why you should wasteyour youth"--

  "Forbear! Go not further--no, not a word!" Sergius exclaimed. "Dostthou account the crown the Saint at last won nothing?"

  Demedes did not seem in the least put out by the demonstration;possibly he expected it, and was satisfied with the hearing continuedhim.

  "I yield to you," he said, with a smile, "and willingly since youconvince me I was not mistaken in your perception.... My father is agood man. His goodness, however, but serves to make him more sensitiveto opposition. The divisions of the Church give him downrightsuffering. I have heard him go on about them hours at a time. Probablyhis proneness to lamentation should be endured with respectfulpatience; but there is a peculiarity in it--he is blind to everythingsave the loss of power and influence the schisms are fated to entailupon the Church. He fights valorously in season and out for the oldorthodoxies, believing that with the lapse of religion as at presentorganized the respectability and dominion of the holy orders will alsolapse. Nay, Sergius, to say it plainly, he and the Brotherhood are fastkeying themselves up to a point in fanaticism when dissent appearsblackest heresy. To you, a straightforward seeker after information, ithas never occurred, I suspect, to inquire how far--or rather howclose--beyond that attainment lie punishments of summary infliction andmost terrible in kind? Torture--the stake--holocausts in theHippodrome--spectacles in the Cynegion--what are they to the enthusedChurchmen but righteous judgments mercifully executed on waywardheretics? I tell you, monk--and as thou lovest her, heed me--I tell youthe Princess Irene is in danger."

  This was unexpected, and forcibly put; and thinking of the Princess,Sergius lost the calmness he had up to this time successfully kept.

  "The Princess--tortured--God forbid!"

  "Recollect," the Greek continued--"for you will reflect uponthis--recollect I overheard the close of your interview with my father.To-morrow, or upon your return from Therapia, be it when it may, hewill interrogate you with respect to whatever she may confide to you inthe least relative to the Creed, wh
ich, as he states, she has preparedfor herself. You stand warned. Consider also that now I have in partacquitted myself of the obligation I am under to you for my life."

  The simple-mindedness of the monk, to whom the book of the world wasjust beginning to open, was an immense advantage to the Greek. Itshould not be surprising, therefore, if the former relaxed his air, andleaned a little forward to hear what was further submitted to him.

  "Have you breakfasted?" the prodigal asked, in his easy manner.

  "I have not."

  "Ah! In concern for my father, you have neglected yourself. Well, Imust not be inconsiderate. A hungry man is seldom a patient listener.Shall I break off now?"

  "You have interested me, and I may be gone several days."

  "Very well. I will make haste. It is but justice to the belligerents inthe spiritual war to admit the zeal they have shown; Gregory thePatriarch, and his Latins, on the one side, and Scholarius and hisGreeks on the other. They have occupied the pulpits alternately, eachrefusing presence to the other. They decline association in theSacramental rites. In Sta. Sophia, it is the Papal mass to-day;to-morrow, it will be the Greek mass. It requires a sharp sense todetect the opposition in smell between the incense with which theparties respectively fumigate the altars of the ancient house. Isuppose there is a difference. Yesterday the parabaloni came to blowsover a body they were out burying, and in the struggle the bier wasknocked down, and the dead spilled out. The Greeks, being the mostnumerous, captured the labarum of the Latins, and washed it in the mud;yet the monogram on it was identical with that on their own. Still Isuppose there was a difference."

  Demedes laughed.

  "But seriously, Sergius, there is much more of the world outside of theChurch--or Churches, as you prefer--than on the inside. In the tearingeach other to pieces, the militants have lost sight of the major part,and, as normally bound, it has engaged in thinking for itself. That is,the shepherd is asleep, the dogs are fighting, and the sheep, left totheir individual conduct, are scattered in a hunt for fresher water andgreener pasturage. Have you heard of the Academy of Epicurus?"

  "No."

  "I will tell you about it. But do you take the seat there. It is notwithin my purpose to exhaust you in this first conference."

  "I am not tired."

  "Well"--and the Greek smiled pleasantly--"I was regardful of myselfsomewhat in the suggestion. My neck is the worse of having to look upso constantly.... The youth of Byzantium, you must know, are notcomplaining of neglect; far from it--they esteem it a great privilegeto be permitted to think in freedom. Let me give you of theirconclusions. There is no God, they say, since a self-respecting Godwould not tolerate the strife and babble carried on in his name to thediscredit of his laws. Religion, if not a deceit, is but the tinklingof brazen cymbals. A priest is a professor eking out an allowance offine clothes and bread and wine; with respect to the multitude, he is abelled donkey leading a string of submissive camels. Of what accountare Creeds except to set fools by the ears? Which--not what--_which_ isthe true Christian Faith? The Patriarch tells us, 'Verily it is this,'and Scholarius replies, 'Verily the Patriarch is a liar and a traitorto God for his false teaching'--he then tells us it is that other thingjust as unintelligible. Left thus to ourselves--I acknowledge myselfone of the wandering flock--flung on our own resources--we resorted tocounselling each other, and agreed that a substitute for religion was asocial necessity. Our first thought was to revive Paganism; worshippingmany gods, we might peradventure stumble upon one really existent:whether good or bad ought not to trouble us, provided he tookintelligent concern in the drift of things. To quarrel about hisqualities would be a useless repetition of the folly of our elders--thefolly of swimming awhile in a roaring swirl. Some one suggested howmuch easier and more satisfactory it is to believe in one God than inmany; besides which Paganism is a fixed system intolerant of freedom.Who, it was argued, would voluntarily forego making his own gods? Theprivilege was too delightful. Then it was proposed that we resolveourselves each into a God unto himself. The idea was plausible; itwould at least put an end to wrangling, by giving us all an agreeableobject to worship, while for mental demands and social purposesgenerally we could fall back on Philosophy. Had not our fathers triedPhilosophy? When had society a better well being than in the halcyonages of Plato and Pythagoras? Yet there was a term of indecision withus--or rather incubation. To what school should we attach ourselves? Acopy of the Enchiridion of Epictetus fell into our hands, and afterstudying it faithfully, we rejected Stoicism. The Cynics were proposed;we rejected them--there was nothing admirable in Diogenes as a patron.We next passed upon Socratus. _Sons of Sophroniscus_ had a lofty sound;still his system of moral philosophy was not acceptable, and as hebelieved in a creative God, his doctrine was too like a religion.Though the Delphian oracle pronounced him the wisest of mankind, weconcluded to look further, and in so doing, came to Epicurus. There westopped. His promulgations, we determined, had no application except tothis life; and as they offered choice between the gratification of thesenses and the practice of virtue, leaving us free to adopt either as arule of conduct, we formally enrolled ourselves Epicureans. Then, forprotection against the Church, we organized. The departure might sendus to the stake, or to Tamerlane, King of the Cynegion, or, infinitelyworse, to the cloisters, if we were few; but what if we took in theyouths of Byzantium as an entirety? The policy was clear. We founded anAcademy--the Academy of Epicurus--and lodged it handsomely in a temple;and three times every week we have a session and lectures. Ourmembership is already up in the thousands, selected from the best bloodof the Empire; for we do not confine our proselyting to the city."

  Here Sergius lifted his hand. He had heard the prodigal in silence, andit had been difficult the while to say which dominated hisfeeling--disgust, amazement, or pity. He was scarcely in condition tothink; yet he comprehended the despairing cry of the Hegumen, Oh, myGod! whither are we drifting? The possibilities of the scheme flewabout him darkly, like birds in a ghastly twilight. He had studied theoppositions to religion enough to appreciate the attractive power therewas for youth in the pursuit of pleasure. He knew also something of therace Epicureanism had run in the old competitions of philosophy--thatit had been embraced by more of the cultivated Pagan world than theother contemporary systems together. It had been amongst the last, ifnot in fact the very last, of the conquests of Christianity. But hereit was again; nor that merely--here it was once more a subject oforganized effort. Who was responsible for the resurrection? The Church?How wicked its divisions seemed to him! Bishop fighting Bishop--theclergy distracted--altars discredited--sacred ceremoniesneglected--what did it all mean, if not an interregnum of the Word? Mencannot fight Satan and each other at the same time. With suchself-collection as he could command, he asked: "What have you insubstitution of God and Christ?"

  "A Principle," was the reply.

  "What Principle?"

  "Pleasure, the Purpose of this Life, and its Pursuit, an ennobledoccupation."

  "Pleasure to one is not pleasure to another--it is of kinds."

  "Well said, O Sergius! Our kind is gratification of the senses. Few ofus think of the practice of virtue, which would be dreaming in themidst of action."

  "And you make the pursuit an occupation?"

  "In our regard the heroic qualities of human nature are patience,courage and judgment; hence our motto--Patience, Courage, Judgment. Thepursuit calls them all into exercise, ennobling the occupation."

  The Greek was evidently serious. Sergius ran him over from the pointedshoes to the red feather in the conical red hat, and said in accents ofpity:

  "Oh, alas! Thou didst wrong in re-entitling thyself. Depravity had beenbetter than Demedes."

  The Greek lifted his brows, and shrugged his shoulders.

  "In the Academy we are used to taking as well as giving," he said,wholly unembarrassed. "But, my dear Sergius, it remains for me todischarge an agreeable commission. Last night, in full session, I toldof the affair on the wall. Could you have he
ard my description of yourintervention, and the eulogium with which I accompanied it, you wouldnot have accused me of ingratitude. The brethren were carried away;there was a tempest of applause; they voted you a hero; and, without adissent, they directed me to inform you that the doors of the Academywere open"--

  "Stop," said Sergius, with both hands up as if to avert a blow. Afterlooking at the commissioner a moment, his eyes fiercely bright, hewalked the floor of the cell twice.

  "Demedes," he said, halting in front of the Greek, a reactionary palloron his countenance, "the effort thou art making to get away from Godproves how greatly He is a terror to thee. The Academy is only amultitude thou hast called together to help hide thee from Christ. Thouart an organizer of Sin--a disciple of Satan"--he was speaking not loudor threateningly, but with a force before which the other shrankvisibly--"I cannot say I thank thee for the invitation on thy tongueunfinished, but I am better of not hearing it. Get thee behind me."

  He turned abruptly, and started for the door.

  The Greek sprang after him, and took hold of his gown.

  "Sergius, dear Sergius," he said, "I did not intend to offend you.There is another thing I have to speak about. Stay!"

  "Is it something different?" Sergius asked.

  "Ay--as light and darkness are different."

  "Be quick then."

  Sergius was standing under the lintel of the door. Demedes slipped pasthim, and on the outside stopped.

  "You are going to Therapia?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  "The Princess of India will be there. She has already set out."

  "How knowest thou?"

  "She is always under my eyes."

  The mockery in the answer reminded Sergius of the Academy. The prodigalwas designing to impress him with an illustration of the Principle ithad adopted in lieu of God. The motto, he was having it thus earlyunderstood, was not an empty formula, but an inspiring symbol, like theCross on the flag. This votary, the advertisement as much as said, wasin pursuit of the little Princess--he had chosen her for his nextoffering to the Principle which, like another God, was insatiable ofgifts, sacrifices, and honors. Such the thoughts of the monk.

  "You know her?" Demedes asked.

  "Yes."

  "You believe her the daughter of the Prince of India?"

  "Yes."

  "Then you do not know her."

  The Greek laughed insolently.

  "The best of us, and the oldest can be at times as much obliged byinformation as by a present of bezants. The Academy sends you itscompliments. The girl is the daughter of a booth-keeper in thebazaar--a Jew, who has no princely blood to spare a descendant--a dogof a Jew, who makes profit by lending his child to an impostor."

  "Whence hadst thou this--this--"

  The Greek paid no attention to the interruption.

  "The Princess Irene gives a fete this afternoon. The fishermen of theBosphorus will be there in a body. I will be there. A pleasant time toyou, and a quick awakening, O Sergius!"

  Demedes proceeded up the passage, but turned about, and said:"Patience, Courage, Judgment. When thou art witness to all there is inthe motto. O Sergius, it may be thou wilt be more placable. I shall seeto it that the doors of the Academy are kept open for thee."

  The monk stood awhile under the lintel bewildered; for the introductionto wickedness is always stunning--a circumstance proving goodness to bethe natural order.