The Emperor, Part 2, Volume 10.

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THE EMPEROR, Part 2.

By Georg Ebers

Volume 10.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Selene and Helios were baptized, and two days after dame Hannah with her
adopted children and Mary, escorted by the presbyter Hilarion and a
deacon, embarked in the harbor of Mareotis on board a Nile-boat which was
to convey them to their new home, the town of Besa in Upper Egypt. The
deformed girl had hesitated as to her answer to the widow's question
whether she would accompany her. Her old mother dwelt in Alexandria, and
then--but it was this "then" which helped her abruptly to cut short all
reflection and to pronounce a decided "yes," for it referred to Antinous.

For a few minutes it had seemed unendurable to think that she should
never see him again, for she could not help often thinking of the
beautiful youth, and her whole heart ought to belong solely to the One
who had with His blood purchased peace for her on earth and bliss in the
world to come.

The day after being baptized, Selene had gone to Paulina's town-house,
and there, with many tears had taken leave of Arsinoe. All the affection
which bound the sisters together found expression at this moment of
parting. Selene had heard from Paulina that Pollux was dead, and she
no longer grudged her rival sister that she grieved for him more
passionately than herself, though at first her peace of mind had more
than once been disturbed by memories of her old playfellow.

She felt it hard to leave Alexandria, where most of her brothers and
sisters were left behind, and yet she rejoiced to think of a distant
home, for she was no longer the same creature that she had been a few
months since, and she longed for a remote scene of a new and sanctified
life.

Eumenes and Hannah were in the right. It was not the widow but the
little blind boy who had won her to Christianity. The child's influence
had proceeded in a strange course. In the first instance the promises of
the slave Master that Helios should some day meet his father again in a
shining realm among beautiful angels had a powerful effect on the blind
child's tender heart and vivid imagination. In Hannah's house his hopes
had received fresh nurture, and Mary and the widow told him much about
their kind and loving God and His Son who loved children and had invited
them to come to Him. When Selene began to recover and he was permitted
to talk to her he poured out to her all his delight at what he had heard
from the women. At first, to be sure, his sister took no pleasure in
these fanciful fables and tried to shake his belief and lead back his
heart to the old gods. But while she tried to guide the child, by
degrees she felt compelled to follow in his path; at first with wavering
steps, but dame Hannah helped her by her example and with many words of
good counsel. She only taught her doctrine when the girl asked her
questions and begged for information. All that here surrounded Selene
breathed of love and peace, and the child felt this, spoke of it, forced
her to acknowledge it, and, in his own person, was the first object on
which to exercise a wish hitherto unknown to her, to be herself loving
and lovable. The boy's firm faith, which was not to be shaken by any
reasoning or by any of the myths which she knew, touched her deeply and
led to her asking Hannah what was the real bearing of one and another of
his statements. It had always seemed a comfort to her that the miseries
of our earthly life would come to an end with death; but Helios left her
without a reply when he said in a sad voice:

"Do you feel no longing, then, to see our father and mother again?"

To see her mother again! This thought gave her an interest in the next
world, and dame Hannah fanned the spark of hope in her soul into flame.

Selene had seen and suffered much misery, and was accustomed to call the
gods cruel. Helios told her that God and the Saviour were good and kind,
and loved human beings as their children.

"Is it not good and kind," asked he, "of our Heavenly Father to lead us
to dame Hannah?"

"Yes, but we have all been torn apart," said Selene. "Never mind," said
the child confidently, "we shall all meet in Heaven."

As she got well Selene asked after each of the children and Hannah
described all the families into which they had been received. The widow
did not look as if she spoke falsely, and the little ones, when they came
to see her, confirmed her report, and yet Selene could hardly believe in
the accuracy of the pictures drawn of their lives in the houses of the
Christians.

The mother of a Christian family--says a great Christian teacher--should
be the pride of her children, the wife the pride of her husband, husband
and children the pride of the wife, and God the pride and glory of every
member of the household. Love and faith in fact the bond, contentment
and virtuous living the law of the family; and it was in just such a pure
and beneficent atmosphere, as Selene herself and Helios felt the blessing
of in Hannah's house, that each and all of her brothers and sisters were
growing up. Her upright sense gave an honest answer when she asked
herself what would have become of them all if her father had remained
alive and had been dispossessed of his office? They must all have
perished in misery and degradation.

And now?--Perhaps in truth the Divine Being had dealt in kindness with
the children.

Love, love, and again love, was breathed from all she saw and heard, and
yet--was it not love that had caused her greatest sorrows. Wherefore had
it been her lot to endure so much through the same sentiment which
beautified life to others? Had any one ever had more to suffer than she?
Aye indeed! A vivacious, eager youth had duped her and had promised
happiness to her sister instead of to her; it had been hard to bear--and
yet, the Saviour of whom Hellos had told her, had been far more severely
tried. Mankind, for whom He--the Son of God--had come down upon earth,
to save from misery and guilt, had rewarded His loving kindness by
hanging Him on the cross. In Him she could see a companion in suffering
and she asked the widow to tell her all about Him. Selene had made many
sacrifices to her family--she could never forget her walk to the papyrus-
factory--but He had let them mock Him and had shed His blood for His own.
And who was she?--and who was He? The Son of God. His image became dear
to her; she was never weary of hearing about His life and fate, His words
and deeds; and without her observing it the day came when her soul was
free to receive the teaching of Christ with fervent longing. With faith
she acquired that consciousness of guilt which had previously been
unknown to her. She had been busy and industrious out of pride and fear,
but never from love; she had selfishly tried to fling from her the sacred
gift of life without ever thinking what would become of those whom it was
her duty to care for. She had cursed her lovely sister who needed her
protection and care, and even Pollux, her childhood's playfellow; and a
thousand times had she imprecated the ruler of human destinies. All this
she now keenly felt with all the earnestness natural to her, but she was
soothed by the tidings that there was One who had redeemed the world, and
taken on Himself the sins of every repentant sinner.

After Selene had once expressed to the widow her desire to be a
Christian, Hannah brought the bishop to see her. He himself undertook
to instruct the girl and he found in her a disciple anxious and craving
for knowledge. Just like those dried-up and dull-colored plants which,
when they are plunged in water, open out and revive, so did her heart,
untimely withered and dry; and she longed to be perfectly recovered that
she, like Hannah, might tend the sick and exercise that love which Christ
demands of His followers. That which most particularly appealed to her
in her new faith was that it did not promise joys to the rich who could
make great sacrifices, but to the miserable sinner who with a contrite
heart yearned for forgiveness, to the poor and abject, towards whom she
felt as though they belonged to the same family as herself. And her
valiant spirit could not be satisfied with intentions but longed to act
upon them. In Besa she could set to work with Hannah, and this prospect
lightened her grief in quitting Alexandria.

A favoring wind bore the voyagers southward safe to their destination.

Two days after their departure Antinous once more stole into Paulina's
garden. He went up to the widow's little house looking in vain for the
deformed girl; the road was open; her absence could but be pleasing to
him, and yet it disquieted him. His heart beat wildly, for to-day--
perhaps he might find Selene alone. He opened the door without knocking,
but he dared not cross the threshold, for in the anteroom stood a strange
man, placing boards against the wall. The carpenter, a Christian to whom
Paulina had given this little house for his family to live in, asked
Antinous what he wanted.

"Is dame Hannah at home?" stammered the Bithynian.

"She no longer lives here."

"And her adopted daughter, Selene?"

"She is gone with her into Upper Egypt. Have you any message for her?"

"No," said the lad, quite confounded.

"When did they go?"

"The day before yesterday."

"And they are not coming back."

"For the next few years, certainly not. Later may be, if it is the
Lord's pleasure."

Antinous left the garden by the public gate, unmolested. He was very
pale, and he felt like a wanderer in the desert who finds the spring
choked where he had hoped to find a refreshing draught.

Next day, at the first moment he could dispose of, Antinous again knocked
at the carpenter's door to inquire in what town of Upper Egypt the
travellers proposed to settle and the artisan told him frankly, "In
Besa."

Antinous had always been a dreamer, but Hadrian had never seen him so
listless, so vaguely brooding as in these days. When he tried to rouse
him and spur him to greater energy his favorite would look at him
beseechingly, and though he made every effort to be of use to him and to
show him a cheerful countenance it was always with but brief success.
Even on the hunting excursions into the Libyan desert which the Emperor
frequently made, Antinous remained apathetic and indifferent to the
pleasures of the sport to which he had formerly devoted himself with
enjoyment and skill.

The Emperor had remained in Alexandria longer than in any other place,
and was weary of festivities and banquets, of the wordy war with the
philosophers of the Museum, of conversing with the ecstatic mystics, the
soothsayers; astrologers and empirics with whom the place swarmed. And
the short audiences which he accorded to the heads of the different
religious communities, and the inspection of the factories and workshops
of this centre of industry, began to annoy him. One day he announced his
intention of visiting the southern provinces of the Nile valley.

The high-priests of the native Egyptian faith had craved this favor of
him, and he was prompted, not only by his love of information and passion
for travelling, but also by considerations of state-craft, to gratify
this desire of a hierarchy which was extremely influential in those rich
and important provinces. The prospect of seeing with his own eyes those
marvels of Pharaonic times which attracted so many travellers, was also
an incitement, and his good spirits rose as soon as he observed what a
reviving effect his determination to visit southern Egypt had upon
Antinous.

His favorite had for the last few weeks expressed not the smallest
pleasure at any single thing. The homage paid him no less by the
Alexandrian than by the Roman ladies of rank sickened him. At banquets
he sat a silent guest whose neighborhood could not add to anybody's
pleasure, and even the most brilliant and exciting exhibitions in the
Circus and the best contests and races in the Hippodrome had hardly
sufficed to attract his gaze. Formerly he had been an eager and
attentive spectator of the plays of Menander and of his imitators,
Alexis, Apollodorus and Posidippus; but now when they were performed he
stared into vacancy and thought of Selene. The prospect of going to the
place where she was living excited him powerfully and revived his
drooping courage for life. He could hope once more, and to the man who
sees light shining in the future the present is no longer dark.

Hadrian rejoiced in this change in the lad and hastened the preparations
for their departure; still, some months passed before he could begin his
journey.

In the first place he had to provide for newly colonizing Libya, which
had been depopulated by a revolt of the Jews. Then he had to come to a
determination as to certain new post-roads which were to connect the
different parts of the empire more nearly, and finally he had to await
the formal assent of the Roman Senate to some new resolutions concerning
the hereditary reversion of conferred free-citizenship. This assent was,
no doubt a matter of course, but the Emperor never issued an edict
without it, and he was very desirous that his decree should come into
operation as soon as possible.

In the course of his visits to the Museum the sovereign had informed
himself as to the position of the several members of that institution,
and he was occupied in making certain regulations which should relieve
them of the more sordid cares of life; the condition of the aged teachers
and educators of the young had also attracted his observation, and he had
endeavored to improve it.

When Sabina represented to him what a large outlay these new measures
would entail, he replied:

"We do not allow the veterans to perish who placed their lives, and limbs
at the service of the state. Why then should those who serve it with
their intellect be burdened with petty cares? Which should we rank the
higher, power and poverty or mental wealth? The harder I--as the
sovereign--find it to answer the question the more positively do I feel
it to be my duty to mete out the same measure to all veterans alike,
whether officials, warriors or instructors."

The Alexandrians themselves detained him too by a succession of new acts
of homage. They raised him to the rank of a divinity, dedicated a temple
to him, and instituted a series of new festivals in his honor; partly no
doubt to win his partiality for their city and to express their pride and
satisfaction in his long stay there, but also because the pleasure-loving
community was glad to seize this opportunity as a favorable one for
gratifying their own inclinations and revelling in mere unusual
enjoyment. Thus the Imperial visit swallowed up millions, and Hadrian,
who enquired into every detail and contrived to obtain information as to
the sums expended by the city, blamed the recklessness of his lavish
entertainers. He wrote afterwards to his brother-in-law, Servianus, his
fullest recognition of both the wealth and the industry of Alexandrians,
saying, with terms of praise, that among them not one was idle. One made
glass, another papyrus, another linen; and each of these restless
mortals, said he, is busied in some handiwork. Even the lame, the blind
and the maimed here sought and found employment. Nevertheless he calls
the Alexandrians a contumacious and good-for-nothing community, with
sharp and evil tongues that had spared neither Verus nor Antinous. Jews,
Christians, and the votaries of Serapis, he adds in the same letter,
serve but one God instead of the divinities of Olympus, and when he
asserts of the Christians that they even worshipped Serapis he means to
say that they were persuaded of the doctrine of the survival of the soul
after death. The dispute as to which temple should be assigned as the
residence of the newly-found Apis gave Hadrian much to do. From time
immemorial this sacred bull had been kept in the temple of Ptah at
Memphis, but this venerable city of the Pyramids had been outstripped by
Alexandria, and the temple of Serapis outvied that at Memphis in the
province of Sokari, tenfold in size and in magnificence. The Egyptians
of Alexandria, who dwelt in the quarter called Rhakotis, close to the
Serapeum, desired to have the incarnation of the god in the form of a
bull, in their midst; but the Memphites would not abandon their old
prescriptive rights, and the Emperor had found it far from easy to guide
the contest, which proved a very exciting one to all parties, to a
satisfactory issue. Memphis had its Apis, and the Serapeum was
indemnified by certain endowments which had formerly been granted
to the temple at Memphis.

At last, in June, the Emperor could set out. He wished to traverse the
province on foot and on horseback, and Sabina was to follow by boat as
soon as the inundation should begin.

The Empress would gladly have returned to Rome or to Tibur, for Verus had
been obliged to quit Egypt by the orders of the physician as soon as the
summer heat had set in. He departed with his wife, as the son of the
Imperial couple, but no word on Hadrian's part had justified him in
hoping confidently to be nominated as his successor to the sovereignty.

The handsome rake's unlimited dissipations were severely checked by his
sufferings, but not altogether prevented, and on his return to Rome he
continued to indulge in all the pleasures of life. Hadrian's hesitation
and reluctance often disquieted him, for that imperial Sphinx had,
only too frequently, given the most unexpected solutions to his
mystifications. But the fatal end with which he had been threatened
caused him small anxiety; nay, Ben Jochai's prediction rather prompted
him to enjoy to the utmost every hour of health and ease that Fate might
still allow him.

CHAPTER XIX.

Balbilla and her companion, Publius Balbinus and other illustrious
Romans, Favorinus the sophist, and a numerous suite of chamberlains and
servants, were to accompany the Empress by water, while Hadrian set forth
on his land journey with a small escort to which he added a splendid
array of huntsmen. Before he reached Memphis, in crossing the Libyan
desert, through which his road lay, he had killed a few lions and many
other beasts of prey, and here he had once more found Antinous the best
of sporting companions. Cool headed in danger, indefatigable on foot,
content and serviceable in all circumstances, the young fellow seemed to
Hadrian to be a comrade created by the gods themselves for his special
delectation. When Hadrian was in the humor to brood and be silent the
whole day long, he never disturbed him by a word; but in these moods the
Emperor found his favorite's society indispensable, for the mere
consciousness of his presence soothed him.

Antinous too, was happy on these occasions, for he felt that he was of
some use to his venerated master and could thus alleviate the burden
which had never ceased to weigh on his own soul ever since the crime he
had committed. Besides, he preferred dreaming to talking, and the
exercise in the open air preserved him from listless lassitude.

In Memphis Hadrian was detained a whole month, for there he was expected
to visit the Egyptian temples with Sabina, who had arrived before him,
and to submit to many ceremonials invested with the regalia of the
Pharaohs. Sabina often felt as if she must faint when, crowned with the
ponderous vulture-headed fillet of the Queens of Egypt, weighed down with
long robes and golden ornaments, she was conducted with her husband, in
procession, through all the rooms, over the roof and finally into the
holiest place of some vast sanctuary. What senseless ceremonials they
had to go through in the course of these long circuits, and how many
sacrifices had they to attend! When she returned from these visitations
she was utterly exhausted, and indeed, it was no small exertion to
undergo so many fumigations with incense and so many aspersions, to
listen to so many litanies and hymns, to parade through such endless
halls and while being elevated to the rank of celestial beings, to be
crowned with so many crowns in turn and decorated with all kinds of
fillets and symbolic adornments.

Her husband set her a good example, however; through all the ceremonials
he displayed the whole grave majesty of his nature, and among the
Egyptians behaved as one of themselves. He even took pleasure in the
mystical lore of the priests, with whom he often held long conversations.

As at Memphis, so in all the principal temples of the great cities to the
southward, the Imperial pair accepted the homage of the hierarchy and the
honors due to divinity. Wherever Hadrian granted money for the extension
of a temple, he was required to perform the ceremony of laying a stone
with his own hand. But he always found time to hunt in the desert, to
manage the affairs of state, and to visit the most interesting monuments
of past times, and at Memphis especially, the city of the dead, with the
Pyramids, the great Sphinx, the Serapeum and the tombs of the Apis.

Before quitting the city he and his companions consulted the oracle of
the sacred bull. The fairest future was promised to Balbilla; the bull
to whom she had to offer a cake, with her face averted, had approved of
her gift and had touched her hand with his moist muzzle. Hadrian was
left in ignorance as to the sentence of the priests of Apis, for it was
given to him in a sealed roll with an explanation of the signs it
contained; but he was solemnly adjured not to open them before at
least half a year had elapsed.

It was only in the cities that Hadrian met his wife, for he pursued his
journey by land and she hers by water. The boats almost invariably
reached their destination sooner than the land-travellers, and when they
at last arrived, there was always a grand festival to welcome them, in
which however Sabina but rarely took part. Balbilla proved herself all
the more eager to make their arrival pleasant by some kindly surprise.
She sincerely reverenced Hadrian, and his favorite's beauty had an
irresistible charm for her artist's soul. It was a delight to her only
to look at him; his absence troubled her, and when he returned she was
always the first to greet him. And yet the bright girl troubled herself
about him neither more nor less than the other ladies in Sabina's train;
only Balbilla asked nothing of him but the pleasure of looking at him and
rejoicing in his beauty.

If he had dared to mistake her admiration for love and to have offered
her his, the poetess would have indignantly brought him to his bearings;
and yet she gave unqualified expression to her admiration of the
Bithynian's splendid person, and indeed with rather remarkable
demonstrativeness.

When the travellers made their appearance again after a prolonged absence
Antinous would find in the room in the ship where he was to live flowers,
and choice fruits sent by her, and verses in which she had sung his
praises. He put it all aside with the rest and only esteemed the donor
the less; but the poetess knew nothing of these sentiments in her
beautiful idol, and indeed troubled herself very little about his
feelings. She had hitherto found no difficulty in keeping within the
limits of what was becoming. But lately there had been moments in which
she had owned to herself that she might be carried away into overstepping
these limits. But what did she care for the opinion of those around her,
or about the inner life of the Bithyman, whose external perfection of
form was all that pleased her. She did not shrink from the possibility
of arousing hopes in him which she never could nor intended to fulfil,
for the idea did not once enter her mind; still she felt dissatisfied
with herself, for there was one person who might disapprove of her
proceedings, one who had indeed in plain words reprehended her fancy for
doing honor to the handsome boy with offerings of flowers, and the
opinion of that one person weighed with her more than that of all the
rest of the men and women she knew, put together.

This one was Pontius the architect; and yet, strangely enough, it was
precisely her remembrance of him that urged her on from one folly to
another. She had often seen the architect in Alexandria, and when they
parted she had allowed him to promise to follow her and the Empress, and
to escort them at any rate for a part of their voyage up the Nile. But
he came not, nor had he sent any report of himself, though he was alive
and well, and every express that overtook them brought documents for
Caesar in his handwriting.

So he, on whose faithful devotion she had built as on a rock, was no less
self-seeking and fickle than other men. She thought of him every day and
every hour; and as soon as a vessel from the north cast anchor within
sight, she watched the voyagers as they disembarked to detect him among
them. She longed for Pontius as a traveller who has lost his way sighs
for a sight of the guide who has deserted him; and yet she was angry with
him, for he had betrayed by a thousand tokens that he esteemed and cared
for her, that she had a certain power over his strong will--and now he
had broken his word and did not come.

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