her ordinary course, but that she might, by the cabala of some master soul, be diverted from that course itself.  Thus he pursued science, across her appointed boundaries, into the land of perplexity and shadow.  From the truths of astronomy he wandered into astrological fallacy; from the secrets of chemistry he passed into the spectral labyrinth of magic; and he who could be sceptical as to the power of the gods, was credulously superstitious as to the power of man.

The cultivation of magic, carried at that day to a singular height among the would-be wise, was especially Eastern in its origin; it was alien to the early philosophy of the Greeks; nor had it been received by them with favor until Ostanes, who accompanied the army of Xerxes, introduced, amongst the simple credulities of Hellas, the solemn superstitions of Zoroaster.  Under the Roman emperors it had become, however, naturalized at Rome (a meet subject for Juvenal’s fiery wit).  Intimately connected with magic was the worship of Isis, and the Egyptian religion was the means by which was extended the devotion to Egyptian sorcery.  The theurgic, or benevolent magic—­the goetic, or dark and evil necromancy—­were alike in pre-eminent repute during the first century of the Christian era; and the marvels of Faustus are not comparable to those of Apollonius.  Kings, courtiers, and sages, all trembled before the professors of the dread science.  And not the least remarkable of his tribe was the most formidable and profound Arbaces.  His fame and his discoveries were known to all the cultivators of magic; they even survived himself.  But it was not by his real name that he was honored by the sorcerer and the sage:  his real name, indeed, was unknown in Italy, for ‘Arbaces’ was not a genuinely Egyptian but a Median appellation, which, in the admixture and unsettlement of the ancient races, had become common in the country of the Nile; and there were various reasons, not only of pride, but of policy (for in youth he had conspired against the majesty of Rome), which induced him to conceal his true name and rank.  But neither by the name he had borrowed from the Mede, nor by that which in the colleges of Egypt would have attested his origin from kings, did the cultivators of magic acknowledge the potent master.  He received from their homage a more mystic appellation, and was long remembered in Magna Graecia and the Eastern plain by the name of ‘Hermes, the Lord of the Flaming Belt’.  His subtle speculations and boasted attributes of wisdom, recorded in various volumes, were among those tokens ‘of the curious arts’ which the Christian converts most joyfully, yet most fearfully, burnt at Ephesus, depriving posterity of the proofs of the cunning of the fiend.

The conscience of Arbaces was solely of the intellect—­it was awed by no moral laws.  If man imposed these checks upon the herd, so he believed that man, by superior wisdom, could raise himself above them.  ’If (he reasoned) I have the genius to impose laws, have I not the right to command my own creations?  Still more, have I not the right to control—­to evade—­to scorn—­the fabrications of yet meaner intellects than my own?’ Thus, if he were a villain, he justified his villainy by what ought to have made him virtuous—­namely, the elevation of his capacities.