CHAPTER XVII.
Cleopatra had sought the venerable Anubis, who now, as the priestof Alexander, at the age of eighty, ruled the whole hierarchy of thecountry. It was difficult for him to leave his arm-chair, but he hadbeen carried to the observatory to examine the adverse result of theobservation made by the Queen herself. The position of the stars,however, had been so unfavourable that the more deeply Cleopatra enteredinto these matters, the less easy he found it to urge the mitigatinginfluences of distant planets, which he had at first pointed out.
In his reception-hall, however, the chief priest had assured her thatthe independence of Egypt and the safety of her own person lay inher hands; only--the planets showed this--a terrible sacrifice wasrequired--a sacrifice of which his dignity, his eighty years, and hislove for her alike forbade him to speak. Cleopatra was accustomed tohear these mysterious sayings from his lips, and interpreted them in herown way. Many motives had induced her to seek the venerable prelate atthis late hour. In difficult situations he had often aided her withgood counsel; but this time she was not led to him by the magic cup ofNektanebus, which the eight pastophori who accompanied it had that dayrestored to the temple, for since the battle of Actium the superb vesselhad been a source of constant anxiety to her.
Cleopatra had now asked the teacher of her childhood the direct questionwhether the cup--a wide, shallow vessel, with a flat, polished bottomcould really have induced Antony to leave the battle and follow herere the victory was decided. She had used it just before the conflictbetween the galleys, and this circumstance led Anubis to answerpositively in the affirmative.
Long ago the marvellous chalice had been exhibited to her among thetemple treasures, and she was told that every one who induced anotherperson to be reflected from its shining surface obtained the masteryover his will. Her wish to possess it, however, was not gratified, andshe did not ask for it again until the limitless devotion and ardentlove of Antony had seemed less fervent than of yore. From that time shehad never ceased to urge her aged friend to place the wondrous cup inher keeping. At first he had absolutely refused, predicting that its usewould bring misfortune upon her; but when her request was followed by animperative command, and the goblet was entrusted to her, Anubis himselfbelieved that this one vessel did possess the magic power attributed toit. He deemed that the drinking-cup afforded the strongest proof of themagic art, far transcending human ability, of the great goddess by whoseaid King Nektanebus--who, according to tradition, was the father ofAlexander the Great--was said to have made the vessel in the Isis islandof Philoe.
Anubis had intended to remind Cleopatra of his refusal, and show her thegreat danger incurred by mortals who strove to use powers beyond theirsphere. It had been his purpose to bid her remember Phaeton, who hadalmost kindled a conflagration in the world, when he attempted, in thechariot of his father, Phoebus Apollo, to guide the horses of the sun.But this was unnecessary, for he had scarcely assented to the questionere, with passionate vehemence, she ordered him to destroy before hereyes the cup which had brought so much misfortune.
The priest feigned that her desire harmonized with a resolution which hehad himself formed. In fact, before her arrival, he had feared thatthe goblet might be used in some fatal manner if Octavianus should takepossession of the city and country, and the wonder-working vessel shouldfall into his hands. Nektanebus had made the cup for Egypt. To wrestit from the foreign ruler was acting in the spirit of the last king inwhose veins had flowed the blood of the Pharaohs, and who had toiledwith enthusiastic devotion for the independence and liberty of hispeople. To destroy this man's marvellous work rather than deliver itto the Roman conqueror seemed to the chief priest, after the Queen'scommand, a sacred duty, and as such he represented it to be when hecommanded the smelting furnace to be fired and the cup transformed intoa shapeless mass before the eyes of Cleopatra.
While the metal was melting he eagerly told the Queen how easily shecould dispense with the vessel which owed its magic power to the mightyIsis.
The spell of woman's charms was also a gift of the goddess. It wouldsuffice to render Antony's heart soft and yielding as the fire meltedthe gold. Perhaps the Imperator had forfeited, with the Queen's respect,her love--the most priceless of blessings. He, Anubis, would regard thisas a great boon of the Deity; "for," he concluded, "Mark Antony is thecliff which will shatter every effort to secure to my royal mistressundiminished the heritage which has come to her and her children fromtheir ancestors, and preserve the independence and prosperity of thisbeloved land. This cup was a costly treasure. The throne and prosperityof Egypt are worthy of greater sacrifices. But I know that there is noneharder for a woman to make than her love."
The meaning of the old man's words Cleopatra learned the followingmorning, when she granted the first interview to Timagenes, Octavianus'senvoy.
The keen-witted, brilliant man, who had been one of her best teachersand with whom, when a pupil, she had had many an argument, was kindlyreceived, and fulfilled his commission with consummate skill.
The Queen listened attentively to his representations, showed him thather own intellect had not lost in flexibility, though it had gainedpower; and when she dismissed him, with rich gifts and gracious words,she knew that she could preserve the independence of her beloved nativeland and retain the throne for herself and her children if she wouldsurrender Antony to the conqueror or to him, as "the person acting,"or--these were Timagenes's own words--"remove him forever from the playwhose end she had the power to render either brilliant or fateful."
When she was again alone her heart throbbed so passionately and her soulwas in such a tumult of agitation that she felt unable to attend theappointed meeting of the Council of the crown. She deferred the sessionuntil the following day, and resolved to go out upon the sea, toendeavour to regain her composure.
Antony had refused to see her. This wounded her. The thought of thegoblet and its evil influences had by no means passed from her memorywith the destruction of the vessel caused by one of those outbursts ofpassion to which, in these days of disaster, she yielded more frequentlythan usual. On the contrary, she felt the necessity of being alone, tocollect her thoughts and strive to dispel the clouds from her troubledsoul.
The beaker had been one of the treasures of Isis, and the memory ofit recalled hours during which, in former days, she had often foundcomposure in the temple of the goddess. She wished to seek the sanctuaryunnoticed and, accompanied only by Iras and the chief Introducer, went,closely veiled, to the neighbouring temple at the Corner of the Muses.
But she failed to find the object of her pilgrimage. The throngwhich filled it to pray and offer sacrifices, and the fear of beingrecognized, destroyed her calmness.
She was in the act of retiring, when Gorgias, the architect, followed byan assistant carrying surveying instruments, advanced towards her. Sheinstantly called him to her side, and he informed her how wonderfullyFate itself seemed to favour her plan of building. The mob had destroyedthe house of the old philosopher Didymus, and the grey-haired sage, towhom he had offered the shelter of his home, was now ready to transferthe property inherited from his ancestors, if her Majesty would assurehim and his family of her protection.
Then she asked to see the architect's plan for joining the museum tothe sanctuary, and became absorbed in the first sketch, to which hehad devoted part of the night and morning. He showed it, and witheager urgency Cleopatra commanded him to begin the building as soon aspossible and pursue the work night and day. What usually required monthsmust be completed in weeks.
Iras and the "Introducer," clad in plain garments, had waited for herin the temple court and, joined by the architect, accompanied her to theunpretending litter standing at one of the side gates but, instead ofentering it, she ordered Gorgias to attend her to the garden.
The inspection proved that the architect was right and, even if themausoleum occupied a portion of it, and the street which separated itfrom the Temple of Isis were continued along the shore of the sea, ther
emainder would still be twice as large as the one belonging to thepalace at Lochias.
Cleopatra's thorough examination showed Gorgias that she had somedefinite purpose in view. Her inquiry whether it would be possible toconnect it with the promontory of Lochias indicated what she hadin mind, and the architect answered in the affirmative. It was onlynecessary to tear down some small buildings belonging to the Crown and alittle temple of Berenike at the southern part of the royal harbour. Thearm of the Agathodaemon Canal which entered here had been bridged longago.
The new scene which would result from this change had been conjuredbefore the Queen's mental vision with marvellous celerity, and shedescribed it in brief, vivid language to the architect. The gardenshould remain, but must be enlarged from the Lochias to the bridge.Thence a covered colonnade would lead to the palace. After Gorgiashad assured her that all this could easily be arranged, she gazedthoughtfully at the ground for a time, and then gave orders that thework should be commenced at once, and requested him to spare neithermeans nor men.
Gorgias foresaw a period of feverish toil, but it did not daunt him.With such a master builder he was ready to roof the whole city. Besides,the commission delighted him because it proved that the woman whosemausoleum was to rise from the earth so swiftly still thought ofenhancing the pleasures of existence; for, though she wished the gardento remain unchanged, she desired to see the colonnade and the remainderof the work constructed of costly materials and in beautiful forms. Whenshe bade him farewell, Gorgias kissed her robe with ardent enthusiasm.
What a woman! True, she had not even raised her veil, and was attired inplain dark clothing, but every gesture revealed the most perfect grace.
The arm and hand with which she pointed now here, now there, againseemed to him fairly instinct with life; and he, who deemed perfectionof form of so much value, found it difficult to avert his eyes fromher marvellous symmetry. And her whole figure! What lines, what genuinearistocratic elegance, and warm, throbbing life!
That morning when Helena, now an inmate of his own home, greeted him,he had essayed to compare her, mentally, with Cleopatra, but speedilydesisted. The man to whom Hebe proffers nectar does not ask for eventhe best wine of Byblus. A feeling of grateful, cheerful satisfaction,difficult to describe, stole over him when the reserved, quiet Helenaaddressed him so warmly and cordially; but the image of Cleopatraconstantly thrust itself between them, and it was difficult for him tounderstand himself. He had loved many women in succession, and now hisheart throbbed for two at once, and the Queen was the brighter of thetwo stars whose light entranced him. Therefore his honest soul wouldhave considered it a crime to woo Helena now.
Cleopatra knew what an ardent admirer she had won in the able architect,and the knowledge pleased her. She had used no goblet to gain him.Doubtless he would begin to build the mausoleum the next morning. Thevault must have space for several coffins. Antony had more than onceexpressed the desire to be buried beside her, wherever he might die,and this had occurred ere she possessed the beaker. She must in any casegrant him the same favour, no matter in what place or by whose hand hemet death, and the bedimmed light of his existence was but too evidentlynearing extinction. If she spared him, Octavianus would strike him fromthe ranks of the living, and she----Again she was overpowered by theterrible, feverish restlessness which had induced her to command thedestruction of the goblet, and had brought her to the temple. She couldnot return in this mood to meet her councillors, receive visitors, greether children. This was the birthday of the twins; Charmian had remindedher of it and undertaken to provide the gifts. How could she have foundtime and thought for such affairs? She had returned from the chiefpriest late in the evening, yet had asked for a minute description ofthe condition in which they found Mark Antony. The report made by Irasharmonized with the state in which she had herself seen him duringand after the battle. Ay, his brooding gloom seemed to have deepened.Charmian had helped her dress in the morning, and had been on the pointof making her difficult confession, and owning that she had aided Barineto escape the punishment of her royal mistress; but ere she could begin,Timagenes was announced, for Cleopatra had not risen from her couchuntil a late hour.
The object for which the Queen had sought the temple had not beengained; but the consultation with Gorgias had diverted her mind, andthe emotions which the thought of her last resting-place had evokednow drowned everything else, as the roar of the surf dominates thetwittering of the swallows on the rocky shore.
Ay, she needed calmness! She must weigh and ponder over many things inabsolute quietude, and this she could not obtain at Lochias. Then herglance rested upon the little sanctuary of Berenike, which she hadordered removed to make room for a garden near at hand, where thechildren could indulge their love of creative work. It was empty. Sheneed fear no interruption there. The interior contained only a single,quiet, pleasant chamber, with the image of Berenike. The "Introducer"commanded the guard to admit no other visitors, and soon the littlewhite marble, circular room with its vaulted roof received the Queen.She sank down on one of the bronze benches opposite to the statue. Allwas still; in this cool silence her mind, trained to thought, could findthat for which it longed--clearness of vision, a plain understanding ofher own feelings and position in the presence of the impending decision.
At first her thoughts wandered to and fro like a dove ere it choosesthe direction of its flight; but after the question why she was havinga tomb built so hurriedly, when she would be permitted to live, her mindfound the right track. Among the Scythian guards, the Mauritanians, andBlemmyes in the army there were plenty of savage fellows whom a wordfrom her lips and a handful of gold would have set upon the vanquishedAntony, as the huntsman's "Seize him!" urges the hounds. A hint, andamong the wretched magicians and Magians in the Rhakotis, the Egyptianquarter of the city, twenty men would have assassinated him by poison orwily snares; one command to the Macedonians in the guard of the Mellakesor youths, and he would be a captive that very day, and to-morrow, ifshe so ordered, on the way to Asia, whither Octavianus, as Timagenestold her, had gone.
What prevented her from grasping the gold, giving the hint, issuing thecommand?
Doubtless she thought of the magic goblet, now melted, which hadconstrained him to cast aside honour, fame, and power, as worthlessrubbish, in order to obey her behest not to leave her; but though thisremembrance burdened her soul, it had no decisive influence. It wasno one thing which prisoned her hand and lips, but every fibre of herbeing, every pulsation of her heart, every glance back into the past tothe confines of childhood.
Yet she listened to other thoughts also. They reminded her of herchildren, the elation of power, love for the land of her ancestors, andthe peril which menaced it without her, the bliss of seeing thelight, and the darkness, the silence, the dull rigidity of death, thedestruction of the body and the mind cherished and developed with somuch care and toil, the horrible torture which might be associated withthe transition from life to death--the act of dying. And what laybefore her in the existence which lasted an eternity? When she no longerbreathed beneath the sun, even if the death hour was deferred, and shefound that not Epicurus, who believed that with death all things ended,had been right, but the ancient teachings of the Egyptians, what wouldawait her in that world beyond the grave if she purchased a few moreyears of life by the murder or betrayal of her lover, her husband?
Yet perhaps the punishments inflicted upon the condemned were butbugbears invented by the priesthood, which guarded the regulation of thestate in order to curb the unruly conduct of the populace and terrifythe turbulent transgressors of the law. And, whispered the daring Greekspirit, in the abode of the condemned, not in the Garden of Aalu, theElysian Fields of the Egyptians, she would meet her father and motherand all her wicked ancestors down to Euergetes I., who was succeeded bythe infamous Philopater. Thus the thought of the other world became anantecedent so uncertain as to permit no definite inference, and mighttherefore be left out of the account. How would--this must be the form
of the question--the years purchased by the murder or betrayal of onewhom she loved shape themselves for her?
During the night the image of the murdered man would drive sleep fromher couch, and the Furies, the Dirx, as the Roman Antony called them,who pursue murderers with the serpent scourge, were no idle creationsof poetic fancy, but fully symbolized the restlessness of the criminal,driven to and fro by the pangs of conscience. The chief good, thepainless happiness of the Epicureans, was forever lost to those burdenedby such guilt.
And during the hours of the day and evening? Ay, then she would be freeto heap pleasure on pleasure. But for whom were the festivals to becelebrated; with whom could she share them? For many a long year nobanquet, no entertainment had given her enjoyment without Mark Antony.For whom did she adorn herself or strive to stay the vanishing charm?And how soon would anguish of soul utterly destroy the spell, which wasslowly, slowly, yet steadily diminishing, and, when the mirror revealedwrinkles which the skill of no Olympus could efface, when she----No,she was not created to grow old! Did the few years of life which mustcontain so much misery really possess a value great enough to surrenderthe right of being called by present and future generations thebewitching Cleopatra, the most irresistible of women?
And the children?
Yes, it would have been delightful to see them grow up and occupy thethrone, but serious, decisive doubts soon blended even with an idea sorich in joy.
How glorious to greet Caesarion as sovereign of the world inOctavianus's place! But how could the dreamer, whose first love affairhad caused the total sacrifice of dignity and violation of the law, andwho now seemed to have once more relapsed into the old state of torpor,attain the position?
The other children inspired fair hopes, and how beautiful it appearedto the mother's heart to see Antonius Helios as King of Egypt; CleopatraSelene with her first child in her arms; and little Alexander a noblestatesman and hero, rich in virtue and talents! Yet, what would they,Antony's children, whose education she hoped Archibius would direct,feel for the mother who had been their father's murderess?
She shuddered at the thought, remembering the hours when her childishheart had shed tears of blood over the infamous mother whom her fatherhad execrated. And Queen Tryphoena, whom history recorded as a monster,had not killed her husband, but merely thrust him from the throne.
Arsinoe's execrations of her mother and sister came back to hermemory, and the thought that the rosy lips of the twins and her darlingAlexander could ever open to curse her,--the idea that the childrenwould ever raise their beloved hands to point at her, the wickedmurderess of their father, with horror and scorn--No, no, and again no!She would not purchase a few more years of valueless life at the cost ofthis humiliation and shame.
Purchase of whom?
Of that Octavianus who had robbed her son of the heritage of his father,Caesar, and whose mention in the will was like an imputation on herfidelity--the cold-hearted, calculating upstart, whose nature from theirfirst meeting in Rome had repelled, rebuffed, chilled her; of the man bywhose cajolery and power her husband--for in her own eyes and those ofthe Egyptians Antony held this position--had been induced to wed hissister, Octavia, and thereby stamp her, Cleopatra, as merely his love,cast a doubt upon the legitimate birth of her children; of the falsefriend of the trusting Antony who, before the battle of Actium, had mostdeeply humiliated and insulted both!
On the contrary, her royal pride rebelled against obeying the commandof such a man to commit the most atrocious deed; and from childhoodthis pride had been as much a part of her nature as her breath and thepulsation of her heart. And yet, for her children's sake, she mightperhaps have incurred this disgrace, had it not been at the same timethe grave of the best and noblest things which she desired to implant inthe young souls of the twins and Alexander.
While thinking of the children's curses she had risen from her seat.Why should she reflect and consider longer? She had found the clearperception she sought. Let Gorgias hasten the building of the tomb.Should Fate demand her life, she would not resist if she were permittedto preserve it only at the cost of murder or base treachery. Her lover'swas already forfeited. At his side she had enjoyed a radiant, glowing,peerless bliss, of which the world still talked with envious amazement.At his side, when all was over, she would rest in the grave, and compelthe world to remember with respectful sympathy the royal lovers,Antony and Cleopatra. Her children should be able to think of herwith untroubled hearts, and not even the shadow of a bitter feeling, awarning thought, should deter them from adorning their parents' gravewith flowers, weeping at its foot, invoking and offering sacrifices totheir spirits.
Then she glanced at the statue of Berenike, who had also once worn onher brow the double crown of Egypt. She, too, had early died a violentdeath; she, too, had known how to love. The vow to sacrifice herbeautiful hair to Aphrodite if her husband returned uninjured from theSyrian war had rendered her name illustrious. "Berenike's Hair" wasstill to be seen as a constellation in the night heavens.
Though this woman had sinned often and heavily, one act of loyal lovehad made her an honoured, worshipped princess. She--Cleopatra would dosomething still greater. The sacrifice which she intended to impose uponherself would weigh far more heavily in the balance than a handful ofbeautiful tresses, and would comprise sovereignty and life.
With head erect and a sense of proud self-reliance she gazed at thenoble marble countenance of the Cyrenian queen. Ere entering thesanctuary she had imagined that she knew how the criminals whom she hadsentenced to death must feel. Now that she herself had done with life,she felt as if she were relieved from a heavy burden, and yet herheart ached, and--especially when she thought of her children--she wasoverwhelmed with the emotion which is the most painful of all forms ofcompassion--pity for herself.