A Thorny Path — Complete

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  The statue of Serapis, a figure of colossal size, carved by themaster-hand of Bryaxis, out of ivory overlaid with gold, sat enthronedin the inner chamber of the great Temple of Serapis, with the kalathoscrowning his bearded face, and the three-headed Cerberus at his feet,gazing down in supreme silence on the scene around. He did not lack forpious votaries and enthusiastic admirers, for, so long as Caesar washis guest, the curtain was withdrawn which usually hid his majestic formfrom their eyes. But his most devoted worshipers thought that the god'snoble, benevolent, grave countenance had a wrathful look; for, thoughnothing had been altered in this, the finest pillared hall in the world;though the beautiful pictures in relief on the walls and ceiling, thestatues and altars of marble, bronze, and precious metals between thecolumns, and the costly mosaic-work of many colors which decked thefloor in regular patterns, were the same as of yore, this splendidpavement was trodden to-day by thousands of feet which had no concernwith the service of the god.

  Before Caesar's visit, solemn silence had ever reigned in this worthyhome of the deity, fragrant with the scarcely visible fumes of kyphi;and the worshipers gathered without a sound round the foot of hisstatue, and before the numerous altars and the smaller images of thedivinities allied to him or the votive tablets recording the gifts andservices instituted in honor of Serapis by pious kings or citizens. Onfeast-days, and during daily worship, the chant of priestly choirs mightbe heard, or the murmur of prayer; and the eye might watch the stolistswho crowned the statues with flowers and ribbons, as required by theritual, or the processions of priests in their various rank. Carryingsacred relics and figures of the gods on trays or boats, with emblematicstandards, scepters, and cymbals, they moved about the sacred precinctin prescribed order, and most of them fulfilled their duties withdevotion and edification.

  But Caesar's presence seemed to have banished these solemn feelings.From morning till night the great temple swarmed with visitors, buttheir appearance and demeanor were more befitting the market-place orpublic bath than the sanctuary. It was now no more than the anteroom toCaesar's audience-chamber, and thronged with Roman senators, legates,tribunes, and other men of rank, and the clients and "friends" ofCaesar, mingled with soldiers of inferior grades, scribes, freedmen,and slaves, who had followed in Caracalla's train. There were, too,many Alexandrians who expected to gain some benefit, promotion, ordistinction through the emperor's favorites. Most of these kept close tohis friends and intimates, to make what profit they could out of them.Some were corn and wine dealers, or armorers, who wished to obtaincontracts for supplying the army; others were usurers, who had money tolend on the costly objects which warriors often acquired as booty; andhere, as everywhere, bedizened and painted women were crowding round thefree-handed strangers. There were Magians, astrologers, and magiciansby the dozen, who considered this sacred spot the most suitable placein which to offer their services to the Romans, always inquisitivefor signs and charms. They knew how highly Egyptian magic was esteemedthroughout the empire; though their arts were in fact prohibited, eachoutdid the other in urgency, and not less in a style of dress whichshould excite curiosity and expectancy.

  Serapion held aloof. Excepting that he wore a beard and robe, hisappearance even had nothing in common with them; and his talar was notlike theirs, embroidered with hieroglyphics, tongues, and flames, but ofplain white stuff, which gave him the aspect of a learned and priestlysage.

  As Alexander, on his way through the temple to fulfill Caesar'scommission, went past the Magian, Castor, his supple accomplice, stoleup behind a statue, and, when the artist disappeared in the crowd,whispered to his master:

  "The rascally painter is at liberty!"

  "Till further notice!" was the reply, and Serapion was about to give hissatellite some instructions, when a hand was laid on his shoulder, andZminis said in a low voice:

  "I am glad to have found you here. Accusations are multiplying againstyou, my friend; and though I have kept my eyes shut till now, thatcannot last much longer."

  "Let us hope you are mistaken," replied the Magian, firmly. And thenhe went on in a hurried whisper: "I know what your ambition is, and mysupport may be of use to you. But we must not be seen together. We willmeet again in the instrument-room, to the left of the first stairs up tothe observatory. You will find me there."

  "At once, then," said the other. "I am to be in Caesar's presence in aquarter of an hour."

  The Magian, as being one of the most skillful makers of astronomicalinstruments, and attached to the sanctuary, had a key of the room hehad designated. Zminis found him there, and their business was quicklysettled. They knew each other well, and each knew things of the otherwhich inspired them with mutual fear. However, as time pressed, they setaside all useless antagonisms, to unite against the common foe.

  The Magian knew already that Zminis had been named to Caesar as apossible successor to the chief of the night-watch, and that he had apowerful rival. By the help of the Syrian, whose ventriloquism was soperfect that he never failed to produce the illusion that his feignedvoice proceeded from any desired person or thing, Serapion had enmeshedthe praetorian prefect, the greatest magnate in the empire next toCaesar himself, and in the course of the past night had gained a firmhold over him.

  Macrinus, a man of humble birth, who owed his promotion to Severus, thefather of Caracalla, had, the day before, been praying in the Pantheonto the statue of his deceased patron. A voice had proceeded from theimage, telling him that the divine Severus needed him for a great work.A pious seer was charged to tell him more exactly what this was; andhe would meet him if he went at about sunset to the shrine of Isis,and called three times on the name of Severus before the altar of thegoddess.

  The Syrian ventriloquist had, by Serapion's orders, hidden behind apillar and spoken to the prefect from the statue; and Macrinus had, ofcourse, obeyed his instructions. He had met the Magian in the Templeof Isis, and what he had seen, heard, and felt during the night had sodeeply affected him that he had promised to revisit Serapion the nextevening. What means he had used to enslave so powerful a man the Magiandid not tell his ally; but he declared that Macrinus was as wax inhis hands, and he came to an agreement with the Egyptian that if he,Serapion, should bring about the promotion for which Zminis sighed,Zminis, on his part, should give him a free hand, and commend his artsto Caesar.

  It needed but a few minutes to conclude this compact; but then theMagian proceeded to insist that Alexander's father and brother should bemade away with.

  "Impossible," replied Zminis. "I should be only too glad to wring thenecks of the whole brood; but, as it is, I am represented to Caesar astoo stern and ruthless. And a pretty little slut, old Heron's daughter,has entangled him in her toils."

  "No," said Serapion, positively. "I have seen the girl, and she is asinnocent as a child. But I know the force of contrast: when depravitymeets purity--"

  "Come, no philosophizing!" interrupted the other. "We have better thingsto attend to, and one or the other may turn to your advantage."

  And he told him that Caesar, whose whim it was to spare Alexander'slife, regarded Melissa as an incarnation of Roxana.

  "That is worth considering," said the Magian, stroking his beardmeditatively; then he suddenly exclaimed:

  "By the law, as you know, all the relatives of a state criminal are sentto the quarries or the mines. Dispatch Heron and his philosopher sonforthwith. Whither?--that is your concern; only, for the next few daysthey must be out of reach."

  "Good!" said the Egyptian, and an odious smile overspread his thin brownface. "They may go as galley-slaves and row themselves to the Sardinianmines. A good idea!"

  "I have even better ideas than that to serve a friend," repliedSerapion. "Only get the philosopher out of the way. If Caesar lends anear to his ready tongue, I shall never see you guardian of the peace.The painter is less dangerous."

  "He shall share their fate," cried the spy, and he licked his thick lipsas if tasting some dainty morsel.
He waved an adieu to the Magian, andhastened back to the great hall. There he strictly instructed one of hissubordinates to take care that the gem-cutter and his son Philip foundplaces on board a galley bound for Sardinia.

  At the great door he again met Serapion, with the Syrian at his heels,and the Magian said:

  "My friend here has just seen a clay figure, molded by some practicedhand. It represents Caesar as a defiant warrior, but in the shape of adeformed dwarf. It is hideously like him; you can see it at the Elephanttavern."

  The Egyptian pressed his hand, with an eager "That will serve," andhastily went out.

  Two hours slipped by, and Zminis was still waiting in Caesar's anteroom.The Greek, Aristides, shared his fate, the captain hitherto of thearmed guard; while Zminis had been the head of the spies, intrustedwith communicating written reports to the chief of the night-watch. TheGreek's noble, soldierly figure looked strikingly fine by the slovenly,lank frame of the tall Egyptian. They both knew that within an hour orso one would be supreme over the other; but of this they thought it bestto say nothing. Zminis, as was his custom when he wished to assume anappearance of respect which he did not feel, was alternately abjectand pressingly confidential; while Aristides calmly accepted hishypocritical servility, and answered it with dignified condescension.Nor had they any lack of subjects, for their interests were the same,and they both had the satisfaction of reflecting what injury must ensueto public safety through their long and useless detention here.

  But when two full hours had elapsed without their being bidden toCaesar's presence, or taken any notice of by their supporters, Zminisgrew wroth, and the Greek frowned in displeasure. Meanwhile the anteroomwas every moment more crowded, and neither chose to give vent to hisanger. Still, when the door to the inner chambers was opened for amoment, and loud laughter and the ring of wine-cups fell on their ears,Aristides shrugged his shoulders, and the Egyptian's eyes showed anominous white ring glaring out of his brown face.

  Caracalla had meanwhile received the praetorian prefect; he had forgivenhim his long delay, when Macrinus, of his own accord, had told him ofthe wonderful things Serapion had made known to him. The prefect's son,too, had been invited to the banquet of Seleukus; and when Caracallaheard from him and others of the splendor of the feast, he had begun tofeel hungry. Even with regard to food, Caesar acted only on the impulseof the moment; and though, in the field, he would, to please hissoldiers, be content with a morsel of bread and a little porridge, athome he highly appreciated the pleasures of the table. Whenever he gavethe word, an abundant meal must at once be ready. It was all the sameto him what was kept waiting or postponed, so long as something to histaste was set before him. Macrinus, indeed, humbly reminded him thatthe guardians of the peace were awaiting him; but he only waved his handwith contempt, and proceeded to the dining-room, which was soon filledwith a large number of guests. Within a few minutes the first dish wasset before his couch, and, as plenty of good stories were told, and anadmirable band of flute-playing and singing girls filled up the pausesin the conversation, he enjoyed his meal. In spite, too, of the warningwhich Galenus had impressed on his Roman physician, he drank freely ofthe fine wine which had been brought out for him from the airy loftsof the Serapeum, and those about him were surprised at their master'sunwonted good spirits.

  He was especially gracious to the high-priest, whom he bade to a placeby his side; and he even accepted his arm as a support, when, the mealbeing over, they returned to the tablinum.

  'There he flung himself on a couch, with a burning head, and beganfeeding the lion, without paying any heed to his company. It was apleasure to him to see the huge brute rend a young lamb. When theremains of this introductory morsel had been removed and the pavementwashed, he gave the "Sword of Persia" pieces of raw flesh, teasingthe beast by snatching the daintiest bits out of his mouth, and thenoffering them to him again, till the satiated brute stretched himselfyawning at his feet. During this entertainment, he had a letter readto him from the senate, and dictated a reply to a secretary. His eyestwinkled with a tipsy leer in his flushed face, and yet he was perfectlycompetent; and his instructions to the senate, though imperious indeed,were neither more nor less rational than in his soberest moods.

  Then, after washing his hands in a golden basin, he acted on Macrinus'ssuggestion, and the two candidates who had so long been waiting wereat last admitted. The prefect of the praetorians had, by the Magian'sdesire, recommended the Egyptian; but Caesar wished to see for himself,and then to decide. Both the applicants had received hints from theirsupporters: the Egyptian, to moderate his rigor; the Greek, to expresshimself in the severest terms. And this was made easy for him, for theannoyance which had been pent up during his three hours' waiting wassufficient to lend his handsome face a stern look. Zminis strove toappear mild by assuming servile humility; but this so ill became hiscunning features that Caracalla saw with secret satisfaction thathe could accede to Melissa's wishes, and confirm the choice of thehigh-priest, in whose god he had placed his hopes.

  Still, his own safety was more precious to him than the wishes of anyliving mortal; so he began by pouring out, on both, the vials of hiswrath at the bad management of the town. Their blundering tools hadnot even succeeded in capturing the most guileless of men, the painterAlexander. The report that the men-at-arms had seized him had been afabrication to deceive, for the artist had given himself up. Nor hadhe as yet heard of any other traitor whom they had succeeded in layinghands on, though the town was flooded with insolent epigrams directedagainst the imperial person. And, as he spoke, he glared with fury atthe two candidates before him.

  The Greek bowed his head in silence, as if conscious of hisshort-comings; the Egyptian's eyes flashed, and, with an amazinglylow bend of his supple spine, he announced that, more than threehours since, he had discovered a most abominable caricature in clay,representing Caesar as a soldier in a horrible pygmy form.

  "And the perpetrator," snarled Caracalla, listening with a scowl for thereply.

  Zminis explained that great Caesar himself had commanded his attendancejust as he hoped to find the traces of the criminal, and that, whilehe was waiting, more than three precious hours had been lost. At thisCaracalla broke out in a fury:

  "Catch the villain! And let me see his insolent rubbish. Where are youreyes? You bungling louts ought to protect me against the foul broodthat peoples this city, and their venomous jests. Past grievances areforgotten. Set the painter's father and brother at liberty. They havehad a warning. Now I want something new. Something new, I say; and,above all, let me see the ringleaders in chains; the man who nailedup the rope, and the caricaturists. We must have them, to serve as anexample to the others."

  Aristides thought that the moment had now come for displaying hisseverity, and he respectfully but decidedly represented to Caesarthat he would advise that the gem-cutter and his son should be kept incustody. They were well-known persons, and too great clemency would onlyaggravate the virulence of audacious tongues. The painter was free,and if his relatives were also let out of prison, there was nothing toprevent their going off to the other end of the world. Alexandria wasa seaport, and a ship would carry off the criminals before a man couldturn round.

  At this the emperor wrathfully asked him whether his opinion had beeninvited; and the cunning Egyptian said to himself that Caracalla wasanxious to spare the father and his sons for the daughter's sake. Andyet Caesar would surely wish to keep them in safety, to have some holdover the girl; so he lied with a bold face, affirming that, in obedienceto the law of the land, he had removed Heron and Philip, at any rate forthe moment, beyond the reach of Caesar's mercy. They had in the courseof the night been placed on board a galley and were now on the way toSardinia. But a swift vessel should presently be sent to overtake it andbring them back.

  And the informer was right, for Caesar's countenance brightened. He did,indeed, blame the Egyptian's overhasty action; but he gave no orders forfollowing up the galley.

  Then, after reflecting for a sh
ort time, he said:

  "I do not find in either of you what I require; but at a pinch we arefain to eat moldy bread, so I must need choose between you two. The onewho first brings me that clay figure, and the man who modeled it, inchains and bonds, shall be appointed chief of the night-watch."

  Meanwhile Alexander had entered the room. As soon as Caracalla saw him,he beckoned to him, and the artist informed him that he had made gooduse of his time and had much to communicate. Then he humbly inquired asto the clay figure of which Caesar was speaking, and Caracalla referredhim to Zminis. The Egyptian repeated what the Magian had told him.

  Alexander listened calmly; but when Zminis ceased speaking, the artisttook a deep breath, drew himself up, and pointing a contemptuous fingerat the spy, as if his presence poisoned the air, he said: "It is thatfellow's fault, great Caesar, if the citizens of my native town darecommit such crimes. He torments and persecutes them in your name. Howmany a felony has been committed here, merely to scoff at him and hiscreatures, and to keep them on the alert! We are a light-headed race.Like children, we love to do the forbidden thing, so long as it is nostain on our honor. But that wretch treats all laughter and the mostinnocent fun as a crime, or so interprets it that it seems so. Fromthis malignant delight in the woes of others, and in the hope of risinghigher in office, that wicked man has brought misery on hundreds. It hasall been done in thy great name, O Caesar! No man has raised you upmore foes than this wretch, who undermines your security instead ofprotecting it."

  Here Zminis, whose swarthy face had become of ashy paleness, broke outin a hoarse tone: "I will teach you, and the whole rabble of traitors atyour back--"

  But Caesar wrathfully commanded him to be silent, and Alexander quietlywent on: "You can threaten, and you will array all your slanderousarts against us, I know you. But here sits a sovereign who protects theinnocent--and I and mine are innocent. He will set his heel on your headwhen he knows you--the curse of this city--for the adder that you are!He is deceiving you now in small things, great Caesar, and later he willdeceive you in greater ones. Listen now how he has lied to you. He sayshe discovered a caricature of your illustrious person in the guise ofa soldier. Why, then, did he not bring it away from the place where itcould only excite disaffection, and might even mislead those who shouldsee it into the belief that your noble person was that of a dwarf?The answer is self-evident. He left it to betray others into furthermockery, to bring them to ruin."

  Caesar had listened with approval, and now sternly asked the Egyptian:

  "Did you see the image?"

  "In the Elephant tavern!" yelled the man.

  But Alexander shook his head doubtfully, and begged permission to askthe Egyptian a question. This was granted, and the artist inquiredwhether the soldier stood alone.

  "So far as I remember, yes," replied Zminis, almost beside himself.

  "Then your memory is as false as your soul!" Alexander shouted in hisface, "for there was another figure by the soldier's side. The clay,still wet, clung to the same board as the figure of the soldier, modeledby the same hand. No, no, my crafty fellow, you will not catch theworkman; for, being warned, he is already on the high-seas."

  "It is false!" shrieked Zminis.

  "That remains to be proved," said Alexander, scornfully.--"Allow menow, great Caesar, to show you the figures. They have been brought by myorders, and are in the anteroom-carefully covered up, of course, for thefewer the persons who see them the better."

  Caracalla nodded his consent, and Alexander hurried away; the despotheaping abuse on Zminis, and demanding why he had not at once had theimages removed. The Egyptian now confessed that he had only heard of thecaricature from a friend, and declared that if he had seen it he shouldhave destroyed it on the spot. Macrinus here tried to excuse the spy, byremarking that this zealous official had only tried to set his servicesin a favorable light. The falsehood could not be approved, but wasexcusable. But he had scarcely finished speaking, when his opponent, thepraetor, Lucius Priscillianus, observed, with a gravity he but rarelydisplayed:

  "I should have thought that it was the first duty of the man who oughtto be Caesar's mainstay and representative here, to let his sovereignhear nothing but the undistorted truth. Nothing, it seems to me, can beless excusable than a lie told to divine Caesar's face!"

  A few courtiers, who were out of the prefect's favor, as well as thehigh-priest of Serapis, agreed with the speaker. Caracalla, however,paid no heed to them, but sat with his eyes fixed on the door, deeplywounded in his vanity by the mere existence of such a caricature.

  He had not long to wait. But when the wrapper was taken off the clayfigures, he uttered a low snarl, and his flushed face turned pale.Sounds of indignation broke from the bystanders; the blood rose to hischeeks again, and, shaking his fist, he muttered unintelligible threats,while his eyes wandered again and again to the caricatures. Theyattracted his attention more than all else, and as in an April day thesky is alternately dark and bright, so red and white alternated in hisface. Then, while Alexander replied to a few questions, and assuredhim that the host of the "Elephant" had been very angry, and had gladlyhanded them over to him to be destroyed, Caracalla seemed to becomeaccustomed to them, for he gazed at them more calmly, and tried toaffect indifference. He inquired of Philostratus, as though he wishedto be informed, whether he did not think that the artist who had modeledthese figures must be a very clever follow; and when the philosopherassented conditionally, he declared that he saw some resemblance tohimself--in the features of the apple-dealer. And then he pointed to hisown straight legs, only slightly disfigured by an injury to the ankle,to show how shamefully unfair it was to compare them with the lowerlimbs of a misshapen dwarf. Finally, the figure of the apple-dealer--ahideous pygmy form, with the head of an old man, like enough to hisown--roused his curiosity. What was the point of this image? Whatpeculiarity was it intended to satirize? The basket which hung about theneck of the figure was full of fruit, and the object he held in his handmight be an apple, or might be anything else.

  With eager and constrained cheerfulness, he inquired the opinion of his"friends," treating as sheer flattery a suggestion from his favorite,Theocritus, that this was not an apple-dealer, but a human figure, who,though but a dwarf in comparison with the gods, nevertheless endowed theworld with the gifts of the immortals.

  Alexander and Philostratus could offer no explanation; but when theproconsul, Julius Paulinus, observed that the figure was offeringthe apples for money, as Caesar offered the Roman citizenship to theprovincials, he knew for what, Caracalla nodded agreement.

  He then provisionally appointed Aristides to the coveted office. TheEgyptian should be informed as to his fate. When the prefect was aboutto remove the figures, Caesar hastily forbade it, and ordered thebystanders to withdraw. Alexander alone was commanded to remain. As soonas they were together, Caesar sprang up and vehemently demanded toknow what news he had brought. But the young man hesitated to begin hisreport. Caracalla, of his own accord, pledged his word once more tokeep his oath, and then Alexander assured him that he knew no more thanCaesar who were the authors of the epigrams which he had picked up hereand there; and, though the satire they contained was venomous in somecases, still he, the sovereign of the world, stood so high that he couldlaugh them to scorn, as Socrates had laughed when Aristophanes placedhim on the stage.

  Caesar declared that he scorned these flies, but that their buzzingannoyed him.

  Alexander rejoiced at this, and only expressed his regret that most ofthe epigrams he had collected turned on the death of Caesar's brotherGeta. He knew now that it was rash to condemn a deed which--

  Here Caesar interrupted him, for he could not long remain quiet, sayingsternly:

  "The deed was needful, not for me, but for the empire, which is dearerto me than father, mother, or a hundred brothers, and a thousand timesdearer than men's opinions. Let me hear in what form the witty nativesof this city express their disapproval."

  This sounded so dignified and gra
cious that Alexander ventured to repeata distich which he had heard at the public baths, whither he had firstdirected his steps. It did not, however, refer to the murder of Geta,but to the mantle-like garment to which Caesar owed the nickname ofCaracalla. It ran thus:

  "Why should my lord Caracalla affect a garment so ample? 'Tis that the deeds are many of evil he needs to conceal."

  At this Caesar laughed, saying: "Who is there that has nothing toconceal? The lines are not amiss. Hand me your tablets; if the othersare no worse--"

  "But they are," Alexander exclaimed, anxiously, "and I only regret thatI should be the instrument of your tormenting yourself--"

  "Tormenting?" echoed Caesar, disdainfully. "The verses amuse me, and Ifind them most edifying. That is all. Hand me the tablets."

  The command was so positive, that Alexander drew out the little diptych,with the remark that painters wrote badly, and that what he had noteddown was only intended to aid his memory. The idea that Caesar shouldhear a few home-truths through him had struck him as pleasant, but nowthe greatness of the risk was clear to him. He glanced at the scrawledcharacters, and it occurred to him that he had intended to changethe word dwarf in one line to Caesar, and to keep the third and mosttrenchant epigram from the emperor. The fourth and last was veryinnocent, and he had meant to read it last, to mollify him. So he didnot wish to show the tablets. But, as he was about to take them back,Caracalla snatched them from his hand and read with some difficulty:

  "Fraternal love was once esteemed A virtue even in the great,

  And Philadelphos then was deemed A name to grace a potentate. But now the dwarf upon the throne, By murder of his mother's son, As Misadelphos must be known."

  "Indeed!" murmured Caesar, with a pale face, and then he went on ina low, sullen tone: "Always the same story--my brother, and my smallstature. In this town they follow the example of the barbarians, itwould seem, who choose the tallest and broadest of their race to beking. If the third epigram has nothing else in it, the shallow witof your fellow-citizens is simply tedious.--Now, what have we next?Trochaics! Hardly anything new, I fear!--There is the water-jar. I willdrink; fill the cup." But Alexander did not immediately obey the commandso hastily given; assuring Caesar that he could not possibly read thewriting, he was about to take up the tablets. But Caesar laid his handon them, and said, imperiously: "Drink! Give me the cup."

  He fixed his eyes on the wax, and with difficulty deciphered the clumsyscrawl in which Alexander had noted down the following lines, which hehad heard at the "Elephant":

  "Since on earth our days are numbered, Ask me not what deeds of horror Stain the hands of fell Tarautas. Ask me of his noble actions, And with one short word I answer, 'None!'-replying to your question With no waste of precious hours."

  Alexander meanwhile had done Caracalla's bidding, and when he hadreplaced the jar on its stand and returned to Caesar, he was horrified;for the emperor's head and arms were shaking and struggling to and fro,and at his feet lay the two halves of the wax tablets which he had tornapart when the convulsion came on. He foamed at the mouth, with lowmoans, and, before Alexander could prevent him, racked with pain andseeking for some support, he had set his teeth in the arm of the seatoff which he was slipping. Greatly shocked, and full of sincere pity,Alexander tried to raise him; but the lion, who perhaps suspected theartist of having been the cause of this sudden attack, rose on his feetwith a roar, and the young man would have had no chance of his life ifthe beast had not happily been chained down after his meal. With muchpresence of mind, Alexander sprang behind the chair and dragged it,with the unconscious man who served him as a shield, away from the angrybrute.

  Galen had urged Caesar to avoid excess in wine and violent emotions, andthe wisdom of the warning was sufficiently proved by the attack whichhad seized him with such fearful violence, just when Caracalla hadneglected it in both particulars. Alexander had to exert all thestrength of his muscles, practised in the wrestling-school, to hold thesufferer on his seat, for his strength, which was not small, was doubledby the demons of epilepsy. In an instant the whole Court had rushedto the spot on hearing the lion's roar of rage, which grew louder andlouder, and could be heard at no small distance, and then Alexander'sshout for help. But the private physician and Epagathos, thechamberlain, would allow no one to enter the room; only old Adventus,who was half blind, was permitted to assist them in succoring thesufferer. He had been raised by Caracalla from the humble office ofletter-carrier to the highest dignities and the office of his privatechamberlain; but the leech availed himself by preference of theassistance of this experienced and quiet man, and between them they soonbrought Caesar to his senses. Caesar then lay pale and exhausted ona couch which had hastily been arranged, his eyes fixed on vacancy,scarcely able to move a finger. Alexander held his trembling hand, andwhen the physician, a stout man of middle age, took the artist's placeand bade him retire, Caracalla, in a low voice, desired him to remain.

  As soon as Caesar's suspended faculties were fully awake again, heturned to the cause of his attack. With a look of pain and entreatyhe desired Alexander to give him the tablets once more; but the artistassured him--and Caracalla seemed not sorry to believe--that he hadcrushed the wax in his convulsion. The sick man himself no doubt feltthat such food was too strong for him. After he had remained staring atnothing in silence for some time, he began again to speak of the gibesof the Alexandrians. Surrounded as he was by servile favorites, whosesuperior he was in gifts and intellect, what had here come under hisnotice seemed to interest him above measure.

  He desired to know where and from whom the painter had got theseepigrams. But again Alexander declared that he did not know the names ofthe authors; that he had found one at the public baths, the second ina tavern, and the third at a hairdresser's shop. Caesar looked sadly atthe youth's abundant brown curls which had been freshly oiled, and said:"Hair is like the other good gifts of life. It remains fine only withthe healthy. You, happy rascal, hardly know what sickness means!" Thenagain he sat staring in silence, till he suddenly started up and askedAlexander, as Philostratus had yesterday asked Melissa:

  "Do you and your sister belong to the Christians?"

  When he vehemently denied it, Caracalla went on: "And yet these epigramsshow plainly enough how the Alexandrians feel toward me. Melissa, too,is a daughter of this town, and when I remember that she could bringherself to pray for me, then--My nurse, who was the best of women, wasa Christian. I learned from her the doctrine of loving our enemies andpraying for those who despitefully treat us. I always regarded it asimpossible; but now--your sister--What I was saying just now about thehair and good health reminds me of another speech of the Crucified onewhich my nurse often repeated--how long ago!--'To him that hath shallbe given, and from him that hath not shall be taken even that which hehath.' How cruel and yet how wise, how terribly striking and true! Ahealthy man! What more can he want, and what abundant gifts that best ofall gifts will gain for him! If he is visited by infirmity--only look atme!--how much misery I have suffered from this curse, terrible enough initself, and tainting everything with the bitterness of wormwood!"

  He laughed softly but scornfully, and continued: "But I! I am thesovereign of the universe. I have so much--oh yes, so much!--and forthat reason more shall be given to me, and my wildest wishes shall besatisfied!"

  "Yes, my liege!" interrupted Alexander, eagerly. "After pain comespleasure!

  'Live, love, drink, and rejoice, And wreath thyself with me!'

  sings Sappho, and it is not a bad plan to follow Anakreon's advice,even at the present day. Think of the short suffering which now andthen embitters for you the sweet cup of life, as being the ring ofPolykrates, with which you appease the envy of the gods who have givenyou so much. In your place, eternal gods! how I would enjoy the happyhours of health, and show the immortals and mortals alike how much trueand real pleasure power an
d riches can procure!"

  The emperor's weary eyes brightened, and with the cry--

  "So will I! I am still young, and I have the power!" he started suddenlyto his feet. But he sank back again directly on the couch, shaking hishead as if to say, "There, you see what a state I am in!" The fate ofthis unhappy man touched Alexander's heart even more deeply than before.

  His youthful mind, which easily received fresh impressions, forgot thedeeds of blood and shame which stained the soul of this pitiable wretch.His artistic mind was accustomed to apprehend what he saw with his wholesoul and without secondary considerations, as if it stood there to bepainted; and the man that lay before him was to him at that moment onlya victim whom a cruel fate had defrauded of the greatest pleasures inlife. He also remembered how shamelessly he and others had mocked atCaesar. Perhaps Caracalla had really spilled most of the blood to servethe welfare and unity of the empire.

  He, Alexander, was not his judge.

  If Glaukias had seen the object of his derision lying thus, it certainlywould never have occurred to him to represent him as a pygmy monster.No, no! Alexander's artistic eye knew the difference well between thebeautiful and the ugly--and the exhausted man lying on the divan, was nohideous dwarf. A dreamy languor spread over his nobly chiselled featuresAn expression of pain but rarely passed over them, and Caesar's wholeappearance reminded the painter of the fine Ephesian gladiator hallistosas he lay on the sand, severely wounded after his last fight, awaitingthe death-stroke. He would have liked to hasten home and fetch hismaterials to paint the likeness of the misjudged man, and to show it tothe scoffers.

  He stood silent, absorbed in studying the quiet face so finely formedby Nature and so pathetic to look at. No thoroughly depraved miscreantcould look like that. Yet it was like a peaceful sea: when the hurricaneshould break loose, what a boiling whirl of gray, hissing, tossing,foaming waves would disfigure the peaceful, smooth, glittering surface!

  And suddenly the emperor's features began to show signs of animation.His eye, but now so dull, shone more brightly, and he cried out, as ifthe long silence had scarcely broken the thread of his ideas, but in astill husky voice:

  "I should like to get up and go with you, but I am still too weak. Doyou go now, my friend, and bring me back fresh news."

  Alexander then begged him to consider how dangerous every excitementwould be for him; yet Caracalla exclaimed, eagerly:

  "It will strengthen me and dome good! Everything that surrounds me is sohollow, so insipid, so contemptible--what I hear is so small. A strong,highly spiced word, even if it is sharp, refreshes me--When you havefinished a picture, do you like to hear nothing but how well yourfriends can flatter?"

  The artist thought he understood Caesar. True to his nature, alwayshoping for the best, he thought that, as the severe judgment of theenvious had often done him (Alexander) good, so the sharp satire ofthe Alexandrians would lead Caracalla to introspection and greatermoderation; he only resolved to tell the sufferer nothing further thatwas merely insulting.

  When he bade him farewell, Caracalla glanced up at him with such a lookof pain that the artist longed to give him his hand, and speak tohim with real affection. The tormenting headache which followed eachconvulsion had again come on, and Caesar submitted without resistance towhat the physician prescribed.

  Alexander asked old Adventus at the door if he did not think that theterrible attack had been brought on by annoyance at the Alexandrians'satire, and if it would not be advisable in the future not to allowsuch things to reach the emperor's ear; but the man, looking at himin surprise with his half-blind eyes, replied with a brutal want ofsympathy that disgusted the youth: "Drinking brought on the attack. Whatmakes him ill are stronger things than words. If you yourself, youngman, do not suffer for Alexandrian wit, it will certainly not hurtCaesar!"

  Alexander turned his back indignantly on the chamberlain, and he becameso absorbed in wondering how it was possible that the emperor, who wascultivated and appreciated what was beautiful, could have dragged out ofthe dust and kept near him two such miserable 'creatures as Theocritusand this old man, that Philostratus, who met him in the next room, hadalmost to shout at him.

  Philostratus informed him that Melissa was staying with the chiefpriest's wife; but just as he was about to inquire curiously what hadpassed between the audacious painter and Caesar--for even Philostratuswas a courtier--he was called away to Caracalla.