y an admixture, even here, of coarse superstition, bloody
sacrifices, and foolish adoration of perishable stone idols and beasts
without understanding; and in other places by the false and delusive arts
of Magians and sorcerers. Even the dim apprehension of true salvation was
darkened and distorted by the subtleties of a vain and inconsistent
philosophy, which held a theory as immutably true one day and overthrew
or denied it the next. Thus, by degrees, the temple of the idol of Sinope
degenerated into a stronghold of deceit and bloodshed, of the basest
superstition, the pleasures of the flesh, and abominations that cried to
Heaven. Learning, to be sure, was still cherished in the halls of the
Serapeum; but its disciples turned with hardened hearts from the truth
which was sent into the world by the grace of God, and they remained the
prophets of error. The doctrines which the sages had associated with the
idea of Serapis, debased and degraded by the most contemptible
trivialities; lost all their worth and dignity; and after the great
Apostle to whom this basilica is dedicated, had brought the gospel to
Alexandria, the idol's throne began to totter, and the tidings of
salvation shook its foundations and brought it to the verge of
destruction in spite of the persecutions, in spite of the edicts of the
apostate Julian, in spite of the desperate efforts of the philosophers,
sophists, and heathen--for our Lord and Master, Jesus Christ, has given
certainty and actuality to the fleeting shadow of half-divined truth
which lies in the core of the worship of Serapis. The pure and radiant
star of Christian love has risen in the place of the dim nebulous mist of
Serapis; and just as the moon pales when the sun appears triumphant, the
worship of Serapis has died away in a thousand places where the gospel
has been received. Even here, in Alexandria, its feeble flame is kept
alive only by infinite care, and if the might of our pious and Christian
Emperor makes itself felt-tomorrow, or next day--then, my beloved, it
will vanish in smoke, and no power on earth can fan it into life again.
Not our grandsons, no, but our own children will ask: Who--what was
Serapis? For he who shall be overthrown is no longer a mighty god but an
idol bereft of his splendor and his dignity. This is no struggle of might
against might; it is the death-stroke given to a wounded and vanquished
foe. The tree is rotten to the core and can crush no one in its fall,