Cleopatra — Complete

  CHAPTER I.

  Gorgias, the architect, had learned to bear the scorching sunbeams ofthe Egyptian noonday. Though not yet thirty, he had directed--firstas his late father's assistant and afterwards as his successor--theconstruction of the huge buildings erected by Cleopatra in Alexandria.

  Now he was overwhelmed with commissions; yet he had come hither ere thehours of work were over, merely to oblige a youth who had barely passedthe confines of boyhood.

  True, the person for whom he made this sacrifice was Caesarion, the sonwhom Cleopatra had given to Julius Caesar. Antony had honoured him withthe proud title of "King of kings"; yet he was permitted neither to rulenor even to issue orders, for his mother kept him aloof from affairs ofstate, and he himself had no desire to hold the sceptre.

  Gorgias had granted his wish the more readily, because it was apparentthat he wanted to speak to him in private, though he had not the leastidea what Caesarion desired to confide, and, under any circumstances,he could give him only a brief interview. The fleet, at whose head theQueen had set sail, with Mark Antony, for Greece, must have already metOctavianus's galleys, and doubtless a battle wherein the destiny of theworld was decided had also been fought upon the land, Gorgias believedthat the victory would fall to Antony and the Queen, and wished thenoble pair success with his whole heart. He was even obliged to actas if the battle had been already determined in their favour, for thearchitectural preparations for the reception of the conquerors wereentrusted to his charge, and that very day must witness the decision ofthe location of the colossal statues which represented Antony hand inhand with his royal love.

  The epitrop Mardion, a eunuch, who as Regent, represented Cleopatra; andZeno, the Keeper of the Seal, who rarely opposed him, wished to havethe piece of sculpture erected in a different place from the one hefavoured. The principal objection to the choice made by the powerfulhead of the government was that it had fallen on land owned by a privateindividual. This might lead to difficulties, and Gorgias opposed it.As an artist, too, he did not approve Mardion's plan; for though, onDidymus's land, the statues would have faced the sea, which the Regentand the Keeper of the Seal regarded as very important, no fittingbackground could have been obtained.

  At any rate, the architect could now avail himself of Caesarion'sinvitation to overlook from the appointed place of meeting--the loftysteps of the Temple of Isis--the Bruchium, and seek the best site forthe twin statues. He was anxious to select the most suitable one; themaster who had created this work of art had been his friend, and hadclosed his eyes in death shortly after its completion.

  The sanctuary whence Gorgias commenced his survey was in one of thefairest portions of the Bruchium, the Alexandrian quarter, where stoodthe royal palace with its extensive annexes, the finest temples--exceptthe Serapeum, situated in another part of the city-and the largesttheatres; the Forum invited the council of Macedonian citizens to itsassemblies, and the Museum afforded a resort for the scholars.

  The little square closed in the east by the Temple of Isis was calledthe "Corner of the Muses," on account of the two marble statues of womenbefore the entrance of the house, which, with its large garden facingthe square northward and extending along the sea, belonged to Didymus,an old and highly respected scholar and member of the Museum.

  The day had been hot, and the shade of the Temple of Isis was verywelcome to the architect.

  This sanctuary rested upon a lofty foundation, and a long flight ofsteps led to the cella. The spot afforded Gorgias a wide prospect.

  Most of the buildings within his vision belonged to the time ofAlexander and his successors in the house of the Ptolemies, but some,and by no means the least stately, were the work of Gorgias himself orof his father. The artist's heart swelled with enthusiastic delight atthe sight of this portion of his native city.

  He had been in Rome, and visited many other places numbered among theworld's fairest and most populous cities; but not one contained so manysuperb works of art crowded together in so small a space.

  "If one of the immortals themselves," he murmured, "should strive toerect for the inhabitants of Olympus a quarter meet for their grandeurand beauty, it could scarcely be much more superb or better fitted tosatisfy the artistic needs which we possess as their gift, and it wouldsurely be placed on the shore of such a sea."

  While speaking, he shaded his keen eyes with his hand. The architect,who usually devoted his whole attention to the single object thatclaimed his notice, now permitted himself the pleasure of enjoying theentire picture in whose finishing touches he had himself borne a part;and, as his practised eye perceived in every temple and colonnade thestudied and finished harmony of form, and the admirable grouping ofthe various buildings and statues, he said to himself, with a sigh ofsatisfaction, that his own art was the noblest and building the highestof royal pleasures. No doubt this belief was shared by the princes who,three centuries before, had endeavoured to obtain an environmentfor their palaces which should correspond with their vast power andoverflowing wealth, and at the same time give tangible expression totheir reverence for the gods and their delight in art and beauty. Noroyal race in the universe could boast of a more magnificent abode.These thoughts passed through Gorgias's mind as the deep azure hue ofsea and sky blended with the sunlight to bring into the strongest reliefall that the skill and brains of man, aided by exhaustless resources,had here created.

  Waiting, usually a hard task for the busy architect, became a pleasurein this spot; for the rays streaming lavishly in all directions from thediadem of the sovereign sun flooded with dazzling radiance the thousandsof white marble statues on the temples and colonnades, and werereflected from the surfaces of the polished granite of the obelisks andthe equally smooth walls of the white, yellow, and green marble, thesyenite, and the brown, speckled porphyry of sanctuaries and palaces.They seemed to be striving to melt the bright mosaic pictures whichcovered every foot Of the ground, where no highway intersected and notree shaded it, and flashed back again from the glimmering metal or thesmooth glaze in the gay tiles on the roofs of the temples and houses.Here they glittered on the metal ornaments, yonder they seemed to betrying to rival the brilliancy of the gilded domes, to lend to thesuperb green of the tarnished bronze surfaces the sparkling lustre ofthe emerald, or to transform the blue and red lines of the white marbletemples into lapis-lazuli and coral and their gilded decorations intotopaz. The pictures in the mosaic pavement of the squares, and on theinner walls of the colonnades, were doubly effective against the lightmasses of marble surrounding them, which in their turn were indebtedto the pictures for affording the eye an attractive variety instead ofdazzling monotony.

  Here the light of the weltering sun enhanced the brilliancy of colour inthe flags and streamers which fluttered beside the obelisks and Egyptianpylons, over the triumphal arches and the gates of the temples andpalaces. Yet even the exquisite purplish blue of the banner waving abovethe palace on the peninsula of Lochias, now occupied by Cleopatra'schildren, was surpassed by the hue of the sea, whose deep azure near theshore merged far away into bands of lighter and darker blue, blendingwith dull or whitish green.

  Gorgias was accustomed to grasp fully whatever he permitted to influencehim, and though still loyal to his custom of associating with his artevery remarkable work of the gods or man, he had not forgotten in hisenjoyment of the familiar scene the purpose of his presence in thisspot.

  No, the garden of Didymus was not the proper place for his friend's lastwork.

  While gazing at the lofty plane, sycamore, and mimosa trees whichsurrounded the old scholar's home, the quiet square below him suddenlybecame astir with noisy life, for all classes of the populace weregathering in front of the sequestered house, as if some unusualspectacle attracted them.

  What could they want of the secluded philosopher?

  Gorgias gazed earnestly at them, but soon turned away again; a gay voicefrom below called his name.

  A singular procession had approached the temple--a small body of armedmen,
led by a short, stout fellow, whose big head, covered with bushycurls, was crowned with a laurel wreath. He was talking eagerly to ayounger man, but had paused with the others in front of the sanctuary togreet the architect. The latter shouted a few pleasant words in reply.The laurel-crowned figure made a movement as if he intended to join him,but his companion checked him, and, after a short parley, the older mangave the younger one his hand, flung his heavy head back, and struttedonward like a peacock, followed by his whole train.

  The other looked after him, shrugging his shoulders; then called toGorgias, asking what boon he desired from the goddess.

  "Your presence," replied the architect blithely.

  "Then Isis will show herself gracious to you," was the answer, and thenext instant the two young men cordially grasped each other's hands.

  Both were equally tall and well formed; the features bore witness totheir Greek origin; nay, they might have been taken for brothers, hadnot the architect's whole appearance seemed sturdie and plainer thanthat of his companion, whom he called "Dion" and friend. As the latterheaped merry sarcasms upon the figure wearing the laurel wreath who hadjust left him, Anaxenor, the famous zither-player, on whom Antony hadbestowed the revenues of four cities and permission to keep body-guard,and Gorgias's deeper voice sometime assented, sometimes opposed withsensible objections, the difference between these two men of the sameage and race became clearly apparent.

  Both showed a degree of self-reliance unusual, at their age; but thearchitect's was the assurance which a man gains by toil and his ownmerit, Dion's that which is bestowed by large possession and a highposition in society. Those who were ignorant that the weight of Dion'scarefully prepared speech had more than once turned the scale in thecity councils would probably have been disposed to take him for one ofthe careless worldlings who had no lack of representatives among thegilded youth of Alexandria; while the architect's whole exterior, fromhis keen eye to the stouter leather of his sandals, revealed earnestpurpose and unassuming ability.

  Their friendship had commenced when Gorgias built a new palace for Dion.During long business association people become well acquainted, eventhough their conversations relate solely to direction and execution.But in this case, he who gave the orders had been only the inspirer andadviser, the architect the warm-hearted friend, eager to do hisutmost to realize what hovered before the other's mind as the highestattainable excellence. So the two young men became first dear, andfinally almost indispensable to each other. As the architect discoveredin the wealthy man of the world many qualities whose existence he hadnot suspected, the latter was agreeably surprised to find in the artist,associated with his solidity of character, a jovial companion, who--thisfirst made him really beloved by his friend--had no lack of weaknesses.

  When the palace was completed to Dion's satisfaction and became oneof the most lauded ornaments of the city, the young men's friendshipassumed a new form, and it would have been difficult to say whichreceived the most benefit.

  Dion had just been stopped by the zither-player to ask for confirmationof the tidings that the united forces of Antony and Cleopatra had gaineda great victory on sea and land.

  In the eating-house at Kanopus, where he had breakfasted, everyone wasfull of the joyful news, and rivers of wine had been drunk to the healthof the victors and the destruction of the malicious foe. "Inthese days," cried Dion, "not only weak-brained fellows, like thezither-player, believe me omniscient, but many sensible men also. Andwhy? Because, forsooth, I am the nephew of Zeno, the Keeper of the Seal,who is on the brink of despair because he himself knows nothing, noteven the veriest trifle."

  "Yet he stands nearest to the Regent," observed Gorgias, "and mustlearn, if any one does, how the fleet fares."

  "You too!" sighed his friend. "Had I been standing so far above theground as you, the architect--by the dog, I should not have failed tonote the quarter whence the wind blew! It has been southerly a wholefortnight, and keeps back the galleys coming from the north. The Regentknows nothing, absolutely nothing, and my uncle, of course, no more. Butif they do learn anything they will be shrewd enough not to enrich mewith it."

  "True, there are other rumours afloat," said the architect thoughtfully."If I were in Mardion's place--"

  "Thank the Olympians that you are not," laughed his companion. "He hasas many cares as a fish has scales. And one, the greatest. That pertyoung Antyllus was over-ready with his tongue yesterday at Barine's.Poor fellow! He'll have to answer for it to his tutor at home."

  "You mean the remark about the Queen's accompanying the fleet?"

  "St!" said Dion, putting his finger on his lips, for many men and womenwere now ascending the temple steps. Several carried flowers and cakes,and the features of most expressed joyful emotion. The news of thevictory had reached their ears, and they wanted to offer sacrifices tothe goddess whom Cleopatra, "the new Isis," preferred to all others.

  The first court-yard of the sanctuary was astir with life. They couldhear the ringing of the sistrum bells and the murmuring chant of thepriests. The quiet fore-court of the little temple of the goddess, whichhere, in the Greek quarter of palaces, had as few visitors as the greatTemple of Isis in the Rhakotis was overcrowded, had now become theworst possible rendezvous for men who stood so near the rulers ofthe government. The remark made about the Queen the evening before byAntyllus, Antony's nineteen-year-old son, at the house of Barine, abeautiful young woman who attracted all the prominent men in Alexandria,was the more imprudent because it coincided with the opinion of all thewisest heads. The reckless youth enthusiastically reverenced his father,but Cleopatra, the object of Antony's love, and--in the Egyptians'eyes--his wife, was not Antyllus's mother. He was the son of Fulvia, hisfather's first wife, and feeling himself a Roman, would have preferreda thousand times to live on the banks of the Tiber. Besides, it wascertain--Antony's stanchest friends made no attempt to conceal thefact--that the Queen's presence with the army exerted a disturbinginfluence, and could not fail to curb the daring courage of the bravegeneral. Antyllus, with the reckless frankness inherited from hisfather, had expressed this view in the presence of all Barine'sguests, and in a form which would be only too quickly spread throughoutAlexandria, whose inhabitants relished such speeches.

  These remarks would be slow in reaching the plain people who wereattracted to the temple by the news of the victory, yet many doubtlessknew Caesarion, whom the architect was awaiting here. It would be wiserto meet the prince at the foot of the steps. Both men, therefore, wentdown to the square, though the crowds seeking the temple and throngingthe space before Didymus's house made it more and more difficult to paceto and fro.

  They were anxious to learn whether the rumour that Didymus's garden wasto be taken for the twin statues had already spread abroad, and theirfirst questions revealed that this was the case. It was even stated thatthe old sage's house was to be torn down, and within a few hours. Thiswas vehemently contradicted; but a tall, scrawny man seemed to haveundertaken to defend the ruler's violence.

  The friends knew him well. It was the Syrian Philostratus, a cleverextempore speaker and agitator of the people, who placed his clevertongue at the disposal of the highest bidder.

  "The rascal is probably now in my uncle's employ," said Dion. "The ideaof putting the piece of sculpture there originated with him, and it isdifficult to turn him from such plans. There is some secret object to begained here. That is why they have brought Philostratus. I wonder ifthe conspiracy is connected in any way with Barine, whosehusband--unfortunately for her--he was before he cast her off."

  "Cast her off!" exclaimed Gorgias wrathfully. "How that sounds! True, hedid it, but to persuade him the poor woman sacrificed half the fortuneher father had earned by his brush. You know as well as I that life withthat scoundrel would be unbearable."

  "Very true," replied Dion quietly. "But as all Alexandria melted intoadmiration after her singing of the 'yalemos' at the Adonis festival,she no longer needed her contemptible consort."

  "How can yo
u take pleasure, whenever it is possible, in casting suchslurs upon a woman, whom but yesterday you called blameless, charming,peerless?"

  "That the light she sheds may not dazzle your eyes. I know how sensitivethey are."

  "Then spare, instead of irritating them. Besides, your suggestion givesfood for thought Barine is the granddaughter of the man whose gardenthey want, and the advocate would probably be glad to injure both.But I'll spoil his game. It is my business to choose the site for thestatues."

  "Yours?" replied Dion. "Unless some on who is more powerful opposes you.I would try to win my uncle, but there are others superior to him. TheQueen has gone, it is true; but Iras, whose commands do not die awayin empty air, told me this morning that she had her own ideas about theerection of the statue."

  "Then you bring Philostratus here!" cried the architect.

  "I?" asked the other in amazement.

  "Ay, you," asserted Gorgias. "Did not you say that Iras, with whom youplayed when a boy is now becoming troublesome by watching your everystep? And then--you visit Barine constantly and she so evidently prefersyou, that the fact might easily reach the ears of Iras."

  "As Argus has a hundred, jealousy has a thousand eyes," interruptedDion, "yet I seek nothing from Barine, save two pleasant hours when theday is drawing towards its close. No matter; Iras, I suppose, heard thatI was favoured by this much-admired woman. Iras herself has somelittle regard for me, so she bought Philostratus. She is willing to paysomething for the sake of injuring the woman who stands between us,or the old man who has the good or evil fortune of being her rival'sgrandfather. No, no; that would be too base! And believe me, if Irasdesired to ruin Barine, she need not make so long a circuit. Besides,she is not really a wicked woman. Or is she? All I know is that whereany advantage is to be gained for the Queen, she does not shrink evenfrom doubtful means, and also that the hours speed swiftly for any onein her society. Yes, Iras, Iras--I like to utter the name. Yet I do notlove her, and she--loves only herself, and--a thing few can say--anotherstill more. What is the world, what am I to her, compared with theQueen, the idol of her heart? Since Cleopatra's departure, Iras seemslike the forsaken Ariadne, or a young roe which has strayed from itsmother. But stop; she may have a hand in the game: the Queen trustedher as if she were her sister, her daughter. No one knows what sheand Charmian are to her. They are called waiting-women, but are theirsovereign's dearest friends. When, on the departure of the fleet,Cleopatra was compelled to leave Iras here--she was ill with afever--she gave her the charge of her children, even those whose beardswere beginning to grow, the 'King of kings' Caesarion, whose tutorpunishes him for every act of disobedience; and the unruly lad Antyllus,who has forced his way the last few evenings into our friend's house."

  "Antony, his own father, introduced him to her."

  "Very true, and Antyllus took Caesarion there. This vexed Iras, likeeverything which may disturb the Queen. Barine is troublesome on accountof Cleopatra, whom she wishes to spare every annoyance, and perhaps shedislikes her a little for my sake. Now she wants to inflict on theold man, Barine's grandfather, whom she loves, some injury which thespoiled, imprudent woman will scarcely accept quietly, and which willrouse her to commit some folly that can be used against her. Iras willhardly seek her life, but she may have in mind exile or something ofthat kind. She knows people as well as I know her, my neighbour andplaymate, whom many a time I was obliged to lift down from some treeinto which the child had climbed as nimbly as a kitten."

  "I myself suggested this conjecture, yet I cannot credit her with suchunworthy intrigues," cried Gorgias.

  "Credit her?" repeated Dion, shrugging his shoulders. "I only transportmyself in imagination to the court and to the soul of the woman whohelps make rain and sunshine there. You have columns rounded and beamshewed that they may afterwards support the roof to which in due time youwish to direct attention. She and all who have a voice in the managementof court affairs look first at the roof and then seek anything to raiseand support it, though it should be corpses, ruined lives, and brokenhearts. The point is that the roof shall stand until the architect,the Queen, sees and approves it. As to the rest--But there is thecarriage--It doubtless brings--You were--"

  He paused, laid his hand on his friend's arm, and whispered hastily:"Iras is undoubtedly at the bottom of this, and it is not Antyllus,but yonder dreaming lad, for whom she is moving. When she spoke of thestatues just now, she asked in the same breath where I had seen him onthe evening of the day before yesterday, and that was the very time hecalled on Barine. The plot was made by her, and Iras is doing all thework. The mouse is not caught while the trap is closed, and she is justraising her little hand to open it."

  "If only she does not use some man's hand," replied the architectwrathfully, and then turned towards the carriage and the elderly man whohad just left it, and was now approaching the two friends.