by Georg Ebers
CHAPTER XII.
More pleasant hours were to follow on the amusing arrival of the Emperorat his half-finished residence at Lochias that night. Pontius proposedto him to inspect several well-preserved rooms, which had in the firstinstance been reserved for the gentlemen of his suite; and one ofthese with an open outlook on the harbor, the town, and the islandof Antirrhodus he suggested should be provisionally furnished for theEmperor's reception. Thanks to the architect's foresight, to Mastor'spractised hand, and to the numbers of men employed in the palace whowere accustomed to all kinds of service--provision was soon made for thenight, for Hadrian and his companions. The comfortable couch which theprefect had sent to Lochias for Pontius was carried into the Emperor'ssleeping-room, and the camp-beds for Antinous and the suite were soonset up in the other rooms. Tables, pillows, and various householdvessels which had already been sent in from the manufactories ofAlexandria, and which stood packed in bales and cases in the largecentral court of the palace were soon taken out, and so far as they wereapplicable for use were carried into the hastily-arranged rooms. Evenbefore Hadrian, under the prefect's guidance, had reached the last roomin which restorations were being carried out, Pontius was ready with hisarrangements, and could assure the Emperor that to-night he would finda good bed and very tolerable quarters, and that by to-morrow he shouldhave a really elegantly-furnished room.
"Charming, quite delightful," cried the Emperor, as he entered his room."One might fancy you had some industrious demons at your command. Poursome water over my hands, Mastor, and then to supper! I am as hungry asa beggar's clog."
"I think we shall find all you need," replied Titianus, while Hadrianwashed his hands and his bearded face.
"Have you eaten all that I sent down to Lochias to-day, my dearPontius?"
"Alas! we have," sighed Pontius.
"But I gave orders that a supper for five should be sent."
"It sufficed for six hungry artists," answered the architect, "if only Icould have guessed for whom the food was intended! And now what is tobe done? There are wine and bread still in the hall of the Muses,meanwhile."
"That must satisfy us," said the Emperor, as he wiped his face. "In theDacian war, in Numidia, and often when out hunting, I have been glad ifonly one or the other was to be obtained."
Antinous, who was very hungry and tired, made a melancholy face at thesewords of his master, and Hadrian perceiving it, added with a smile:
"But youth needs something more to live upon than bread and wine. Youpointed out to me just now the residence of the palace-steward. Might wenot find there a morsel of meat or cheese, or something of the kind?"
"Hardly," replied Pontius. "For the man stuffs his fat stomach and hiseight children with bread and porridge. But an attempt will at any ratebe worth making."
"Then send to him; but conduct us at once to the hall where the Museshave preserved some bread and wine for me and these good fellows, thoughthey do not always provide them for their disciples."
Pontius at once conducted the Emperor into the hall. On the way thither,Hadrian asked:
"Is the steward so miserably paid that he is forced to content himselfwith such meagre fare?"
"He has a residence rent free, and two hundred drachmae a month."
"That is not so very little. What is the man's name, and of what kithand kin is he?"
"He is called Keraunus, and is of ancient Macedonian descent. Hisancestors from time immemorial have held the office he now fills, and heeven supposes himself to be related to the extinct royal dynasty throughthe mistress of some one of the Lagides. Keraunus sits in the towncouncil and never stirs out in the streets without his slave, who isone of the sort which the merchants in the slave market throw into thebargain with the buyer. He is as fat as a stuffed pig, dresses likea senator, loves antiquities and curiosities, for which he will lethimself be cheated of his last coin, and bears his poverty with more ofpride than of dignity; and still he is an honorable man, and can be madeuseful, if he is taken on the right side."
"Altogether a queer fellow. And you say he is fat, is he jolly?"
"As far from it as possible."
"Ah, people who are fat and cross are my aversion. What is this by wayof an erection?"
"Behind that screen works Papias' best scholar. His name is Pollux, andhe is the son of the couple who keep the gate-house. You will be pleasedwith him."
"Call him here," said the Emperor.
But before the architect could comply with his desire the sculptor'shead had appeared above the screen. The young man had heard theapproaching voices and steps; he greeted the prefect respectfully fromhis elevated position, and after satisfying his curiosity was about tospring down from the stool on which he had climbed when Pontius calledto him that Claudius Venator, the architect from Rome, wished to makehis acquaintance.
"That is very kind in him, and still more kind in you," Pollux answeredfrom above, "since it is only from you that he can know that I existbeneath the moon, and use the hammer and chisel. Allow me to descendfrom my four-legged cothurnus, for at present you are forced to look upto me, and from all I have heard of your talents from Pontius, nothingcan be more absolutely the reverse of what it ought to be."
"Nay, stop where you are," answered Hadrian. "We, as fellow-artists, maywaive ceremony.--What are you doing in there?"
"I will push the screen back in a moment and show you our Urania. Itis very good for an artist to hear the opinion of a man who thoroughlyunderstands the thing."
"Presently, friend-presently; first let me enjoy a scrap of bread, forthe severity of my hunger might very possibly influence my judgment."
As he was speaking the architect offered the Emperor a salver withbread, salt, and a cup of wine, which his own slave had carried to him.When Pollux observed this modest meal, he called out:
"That is prisoners' fare, Pontius; have we nothing better in the housethan that?"
"Possibly you yourself assisted in demolishing the dainty dishes I hadsent down for the architect," cried Titianus, pretending to threatenhim.
"You are defacing a fair memory," sighed the sculptor, with mockmelancholy. "But, by Hercules, I did my fair share of the work ofdestruction. If only now--but stay! I have an idea worthy of Aristotlehimself! that breakfast, to which I invited you to-morrow morning, mostnoble Pontius, is all ready at my mother's, and can be warmed up in afew minutes. Do not be alarmed, worthy sir, but the dish in questionis cabbage with sausages--a mess which, like the soul of an Egyptian,possesses at the instant of resurrection, nobler qualities than when itfirst sees the light."
"Excellent," cried Hadrian. "Cabbage and sausages!" He wiped his fulllips with his hand, smiling with gratification, and he broke into ahearty laugh of amusement as he heard a loud "Ah!" of satisfaction fromAntinous, who drew nearer to the canvas screen. "There is another whosemouth waters and whose imagination revels in a happy future," said theEmperor to the prefect, pointing to his favorite.
But he had misinterpreted the lad's exclamation, for it was the merename of the dish--which his mother had often set on the table of hishumble home in Bithynia--which reminded him of his native country andhis childhood, and transplanted him in thought back into their midst. Itwas a swift leap at his heart, and not merely the pleasant watering ofhis gums, that had forced the "Ah" to his lips. Still, he was glad tosee his native dish again, and would not have exchanged it against therichest banquet. Pollux had meanwhile come out of his nook, and said:
"In a quarter of an hour I shall set before you the breakfast which hasbeen turned into a supper. Mitigate your worst hunger with some breadand salt, and then my mother's cabbage-stew will not only satisfy you,but will be enjoyed with calm appreciation."
"Greet dame Doris from me," Hadrian called after the sculptor; and whenPollux had quitted the hall he turned to Titianus and Pontius and said:
"What a splendid young fellow. I am curious to see what he can do as anartist."
"Then follow me," replied Pontius, leading the way.
"What do you say to this Urania? Papias made the head of the Muse, butthe figure and the drapery Pollux formed with his own hand in a fewdays."
The imperial artist stood in front of the statue, with his arms crossed,and remained there for some time in silence. Then he nodded his beardedhead approvingly, and said gravely:
"A well-considered work, and carried out with remarkable freedom; thismantle drawn over the bosom would not disgrace a Phidias. All is broad,characteristic and true. Did the young artist work from the model hereat Lochias?"
"I have seen no model, and I believe that he evolved the whole figureout of his head," replied Pontius.
"Impossible, perfectly impossible," cried the Emperor, in the tone of aman who knows well what he is talking about. "Such lines, such formsnot Praxiteles himself could have invented. He must have seen them, haveformed them as he stood face to face with the living copy. We will askhim. What is to be made out of that newly-set-up mass of clay?"
"Possibly the bust of some princess of the house of the Lagides.To-morrow you shall see a head of Berenice by our young friend, whichseems to me to be one of the best things ever done in Alexandria."
"And is the lad a proficient in magic?" asked Hadrian. "It seems tome simply impossible that he should have completed this statue and awoman's bust in these few days."
Pontius explained to the Emperor that Pollux had mounted the head on abust already to hand, and as he answered his questions without reserve,he revealed to him what stupendous exertions of the arts had been calledinto requisition to give the dilapidated palace a suitable and, in itskind, even brilliant appearance. He frankly confessed that here he wasworking only for effect, and talked to Hadrian exactly as he would havediscussed the same subject with any other fellow-artist.
While the Emperor and the architect were thus eagerly conversing, andthe prefect was hearing from Phlegon, the secretary, all the experienceof their journey, Pollux reappeared in the hall of the Muses accompaniedby his father. The singer carried before him a steaming mess, freshcakes of bread, and the pasty which a few hours previously he hadcarried home to his wife from the architect's table. Pollux held to hisbreast a tolerably large two-handled jar full of Mareotic wine, which hehad hastily wreathed with branches of ivy.
A few minutes later the Emperor was reclining on a mattress that hadbeen laid for him, and was making his way valiantly through thesavory mess. He was in the happiest humor; he called Antinous and hissecretary, heaped abundant portions with his own hand on their plates,which he bade them hold out to him, declaring as he did so that it wasto prevent their fishing the best of the sausages out of the cabbage forthemselves. He also spoke highly of the Mareotic wine. When they cameto opening the pasty the expression of his face changed; he frowned andasked the prefect in a suspicious tone, severely and sternly:
"How came these people by such a pasty as this?"
"Where did you get it from?" asked the prefect of the singer.
"From the banquet which the architect gave to the artists here,"answered Euphorion. "The bones were given to the Graces and this dish,which had not been touched, to me and my wife. She devoted it withpleasure to Pontius' guest."
Titianus laughed and exclaimed:
"This then accounts for the total disappearance of the handsome supperwhich we sent down to the architect. This pasty-allow me to look atit--this pasty was prepared by a recipe obtained from Verus. He invitedus to breakfast yesterday and instructed my cook how to prepare it."
"No Platonist ever propagated his master's doctrines with greater zealthan Verus does the merits of this dish," said the Emperor, whohad recovered his good humor as soon as he perceived that no artfulpreparation for his arrival was to be suspected in this matter. "Whatfollies that spoilt child of fortune can commit! Does he still insist oncooking with his own hands?"
"No, not quite that," replied the prefect. "But he had a couch placedfor him in the kitchen on which he stretched himself at full lengthand told my cook exactly how to prepare the pasty, of which you are--Ishould say, of which the Emperor is particularly fond. It consists ofpheasant, ham, cow's udder and a baked crust."
"I am quite of Hadrian's opinion," laughed the Emperor; doing alljustice to the excellent pie. "You entertain me splendidly my friend,and I am very much your debtor. What did you say your name is youngman?"
"Pollux."
"Your Urania, Pollux, is a fine piece of work, and Pontius says youexecuted the drapery without a model. I said, and I repeat, that it issimply impossible."
"You judge rightly, a young girl stood for it."
The Emperor glanced at the architect, as much as to say, I knew it!
Pontius asked in astonishment:
"When? I have never seen a female form within these walls."
"Recently."
"But I have never quitted Lochias for a minute. I have never goneto rest before midnight, and have been on my legs again long beforesunrise."
"But still there were several hours between your going to sleep, andwaking up again," replied Pollux. "Ah, youth--youth!" exclaimed theEmperor, and a satirical smile played upon his lips.
"Part Damon and Phyllis by iron doors, and they will find their way toeach other through the key-hole."
Euphorion looked seriously at his son, the architect shook his headand refrained from further questions, but Hadrian rose from his couch,dismissed Antinous and his secretary to bed, requested Titianus to gohome and to give his wife his kindly greetings, and then desired Polluxto conduct him within this screen, since he himself was not tired andwas accustomed to do with only a few hours sleep.
The young sculptor was strongly attracted by this commanding personage.It had not escaped him that the gray-bearded stranger greatly resembledthe Emperor; but Pontius had prepared him for the likeness, and in factthere was much in the eyes and mouth of the Roman architect that he hadnever traced in any portrait of Hadrian 'Imperator.' And as they stoodbefore his scarcely-finished statue his respect increased for the newvisitor to Lochias; for, with earnest frankness, he pointed out to himcertain faults, and while praising the merits of the rapidly-executedfigure he explained in a few brief and pithy phrases his own conceptionof the ideal Urania. Then shortly but clearly, he stated his views as tohow the plastic artist must deal with the problems of his art.
The young man's heart beat faster, and more than once he turned hot andcold by turns as he heard things uttered by the bearded lips of thisimposing man, in a rich voice and in lucid phrases, which he had oftendivined or vaguely felt, but for which, while learning, observing, andworking, he had never sought expression in words. And how kindlythe great master took up his timid observations, how convincingly heanswered them. Such a man as this he had never met, never had he bowedwith such full consent before the superiority and sovereign power ofanother mind.
The second hour after midnight had begun, when Hadrian, standing beforethe rough-cast clay bust, asked Pollux:
"What is this to be?"
"A portrait of a girl."
"Probably of the complaisant model who ventures into Lochias at night?"
"No; a lady of rank will sit to me."
"An Alexandrian?"
"Oh, no. A beauty in the train of the Empress."
"What is her name? I know all the Roman ladies."
"Balbilla."
"Balbilla? There are many of that name. What is she like, the lady youmean?" asked Hadrian, with a cunning glance of amusement.
"That is easier to ask than to answer," replied the artist, who, seeinghis gray-bearded companion smile, recovered his gay vivacity, "Butstay--you have seen a peacock spread its tail--now only imagine thatevery eye in the train of Hera's bird was a graceful round curl, andthat in the middle of the circle there was a charming, intelligentgirl's face, with a merry little nose, and a rather too high forehead,and you will have the portrait of the young damsel who has graciouslypermitted me to model from her person."
Hadrian laughed heartily, threw off his cloak, and exclaime
d:
"Stand aside--I know your maiden--and if I mean a different one youshall tell me."
While he was still speaking he had plunged his powerful hands into theyielding clay, and kneading and pinching like a practised modeller,wiping off and pressing on, he formed a woman's face with a toweringstructure of curls, which resembled Balbilla, but which reproduced everyconspicuous peculiarity with such whimsical exaggeration that Polluxcould not contain his delight. When at last Hadrian stepped back fromthe happy caricature and called upon him to say whether that were notindeed the Roman lady, Pollux exclaimed:
"It is as surely she, as you are not merely a great architect, butan admirable sculptor. The thing is coarse, but unmistakablycharacteristic."
The Emperor himself seemed to enjoy his artistic joke hugely, for helooked at it, and laughed again and again. Pontius, however, seemedto view it differently; he had listened with eager sympathy to theconversation between Hadrian and the sculptor, and had watched theformer as he began his work; but as it went on he turned away, forhe hated that distortion of fine forms, which he often found that theEgyptians took a special delight in. It was positively painful to him tosee a graceful, highly-gifted and defenceless creature, to whom, too, hefelt himself bound by ties of gratitude, mocked at in this way by such aman as Hadrian. He had only to-day met Balbilla for the first time, buthe had heard from Titianus that she was staying at the Caesareumwith the Empress, and the prefect had also told him that she was thegranddaughter of that same governor, Claudius Balbillus, who had grantedfreedom to his own grandfather, a learned Greek slave.
He had met her with grateful sympathy and devotion; her bright andlively nature had delighted him, and at each thoughtless word sheuttered he would have liked to give her some warning sign, as thoughshe were near to him through some tie of blood, or some old establishedfriendship that might warrant his right to do so. The defiant, halfgallant way in which Verus, the dissipated lady-killer, had spoken toher had enraged him and filled him with anxiety, and long after theillustrious visitors had left Lochias he had thought of her again andagain, and had resolved, if it were possible, to keep a watchful eye onthe descendant of the benefactor of his family. He felt it as a sacredduty to shelter and protect her, seeming to him as she did, an airy,pretty, defenceless song-bird.
The Emperor's caricature had the same effect on his feelings as thoughsome one had insulted and scorned, before his eyes, something that oughtto be regarded as sacred. And there stood the monarch, a man no longeryoung, gazing at his performance and never weary of the amusement itafforded him. It pained Pontius keenly, for like all noble natures, hecould not bear to discover anything mean or vulgar in a man to whom hehad always looked up as to a strong exceptional character. As an artistHadrian ought not to have vilified beauty, as a man he ought not to haveinsulted unprotected innocence.
In the soul of the architect, who had hitherto been one of the Emperor'swarmest admirers, a slight aversion began to dawn, and he was glad,when, at last, Hadrian decided to withdraw to rest.
The Emperor found in his room every requisite he was accustomed to use,and while his slave undressed him, lighted his night-lamp and adjustedhis pillows, he said:
"This is the best evening I have enjoyed for years. Is Antinouscomfortably in bed?"
"As much so as in Rome."
"And the big dog?"
"I will lay his rug in the passage at your door."
"Has he had any food?"
"Bones, bread and water."
"I hope you have had something to eat this evening."
"I was not hungry, and there was plenty of bread and wine."
"To-morrow we shall be better supplied. Now, good-night. Weigh yourwords for fear you should betray me. A few days here undisturbed wouldbe delightful!"
With these words the Emperor turned over on his couch and was soonasleep.
Mastor, too, lay down to rest after he had spread a rug for the dog inthe corridor outside the Emperor's sleeping-room. His head rested on acurved shield of stout cowhide under which lay his short sword; thebed was but a hard one, but Mastor had for years been used to rest onnothing better, and still had enjoyed the dreamless slumbers of a child;but to-night sleep avoided him, and from time to time he pressed hishand on his wearily open eyes to wipe away the salt dew which rose tothem again and again. For a long time he had restrained these tearsbravely enough, for the Emperor liked to see none but cheerful facesamong his servants; nay, he had once said that it was in consequenceof his bright eyes that he had entrusted to him the care of his person.Poor, cheerful Mastor! He was nothing but a slave, still he had a heartwhich lay open to joy and suffering, to pleasure and trouble, to hatredand to love.
In his childhood his native village had fallen into the hands of thefoes of his race. He and his brother had been carried away as slaves,first into Asia Minor, and then as they were both particularly prettyfair-haired boys, to Rome. There they had been bought for the Emperor;Mastor had been chosen to wait on Hadrian's person, his brother had beenput to work in the gardens. Nothing was lacking to either except hisliberty; nothing tormented them but their longing for their native home,and even this altogether faded away after he had married the prettylittle daughter of a superintendent of the gardens, a slave likehimself. She was a lively little woman with sparkling eyes, whom no onecould pass by without noticing.
The slave's duties left him but little time to enjoy the society ofhis pretty partner and of the two children she bore him, but theconsciousness of possessing them made him happy when he followed hismaster to the chase, or in the journeys through the empire. Now, forseven months he had heard nothing of his family; but a short letter hadreached him at Pelusium, which had been sent with the despatches for theEmperor from Ostia to Egypt. He could not read, and in consequence ofthe Emperor's rapid travelling, it was not till he reached Lochias, thathe was put in possession of its contents.
Before going to rest Antinous had read him the letter, which had beenwritten for his brother by a public scribe, and its contents were enoughto wreck the heart even of a slave. His pretty little wife had fled fromher home and from the Emperor's service to follow a Greek ship's captainacross the world; his eldest child, a boy, the darling of his heart, wasdead; and his fair-haired tender little Tullia, with her pearly teeth,her round little arms, and her pretty tiny fingers that had often triedto pull his close-cropped hair, and had fondly stroked and patted it,had been carried off to the miserable refuge, under whose squalid roofthe children of deceased slaves were reared. Only two hours since, andin fancy he had possessed a home, and a group of human beings, whomhe could love. Now, this was all over and with however hard a hand thedeepest woes might fall on him, he might not sob or groan aloud, or evenroll from side to side as again and again he was violently prompted todo, for his lord slept lightly and the least noise might wake him. Atsunrise he must appear before the Emperor as cheerful as usual, andyet he felt as if he must himself perish miserably as his happiness haddone. His heart was bursting with anguish, still he neither groaned norstirred.