Next morning, the soft, even light of a tea-rose dawn spread over a
magic spectacle, beautiful as a marvellous dream, flimsy as a vision,
compelling as an enchantment. The ship had glided past the monumental,
marble, nine-storeyed Pharos into the Great Harbour; and Alexandria
lay before the eyes of the delighted travellers, Lucius, Thrasyllus,
Catullus, shining pink through diaphanous, mother-o'-pearl gleams and
a slowly-lifting silvery mist, like a city of magic and fairy-tale. A
long, long row of white palaces, with irregular gables, loomed through
the mist and the gleam.
On the left, on the rocks of Lochias, the pillars of the former royal
palace shone magical and fairylike in the silvery mist. Thrasyllus
knew that, since Egypt had become a Roman province, the legate resided
there, surrounded with royal honours. Under the palace the little
square basin of the palace-harbour showed, gay with the purple sails
of the legate's triremes; with the little island of Antirrhodos,
behind which pillars and yet more pillars outlined more and more
clearly the white theatre; with the bight of the Posidium, where stood
the Temple of Poseidon and the great Emporium, the great market of
the merchant shippers, while a pier ran into the harbour on which,
dainty as a marble ornament, stood the villa of the Timoneum, built
by Mark Antony. A riot of luxuriant green gardens, with the stately
crowns of palm-trees and the dreamy-delicate crests of tamarisks,
flung cool, dark nosegays between all those gleaming white buildings,
which began to blink in the ever fiercer sunshine....
Thrasyllus pointed with his finger, along the harbour, the long row of
palaces of the Caesareum, the huge docks and yards teeming all motley
with people and industry, to the Heptastadium, the promenade-jetty
which stretched out to unite the city with the island of Pharos,
whence the light-house took its name. On the one side of this pier,
with rostra and statues on the marble balustrade and gates, lay the
harbour of Eunostus and the naval docks of Cibotus.
The water on every side was crowded and swarming with vessels: biremes
and triremes, battle-ships and merchant-ships; the masts rose like a
forest of poplars and the sails glowed like the many-coloured wings of
one bird against another; and, as soon as the quadrireme glided in,
she was surrounded by a host of sloops, filled with traders, with
yelling Arabs and Nubians. The Aphrodite heaved to; a pilot came on
board; then she glided on again through the press of the sloops,
the yelling of the traders and with swanlike elegance turned and
lay to beside the great quay, at the place where she was expected,
the place kept open for her.
The quay, between the obelisks, was alive with a maddening concourse
of people: sailors and merchants, vendors of fruit and water and
vegetables, chattering women, screaming children, Ethiopian beggars,
Greek students, priests of Serapis and Isis, Roman soldiers; and
all pointed at the ship and streamed in unison to gaze at her in
wide-eyed and open-mouthed admiration. For, though numbers of vessels
entered the Great Harbour of Alexandria daily, it was not every day
that the quay was visited by so impressive a quadrireme as this;
and the beautiful ship aroused curiosity.
The three travellers stood on the prow, beside the silver figure of
Aphrodite, and Catullus said, in an appreciative tone:
"It's not half bad. Just look at that row of palaces! It is as though
Alexandria were one great palace, opening on its harbour! And what
people, white, dark and black, all mixed! And what a noise they make,
what a noise! We are much calmer in Italy!... Do look, Lucius, at all
those ibises walking about on the quay, quiet and tame, pecking here
and there, upon my word as though they were at home! Do you see the
ibises, Thrasyllus? I thought that they just stood and dreamed on one
leg, beside the Nile, like poetic birds ... and, the moment I arrive,
I see great flocks of them actually walking on the quay of Alexandria's
harbour! White ibises, black ibises, piebald ibises! What a crowd of
ibises! What a crowd of them! And so dignified, much more dignified
than the people! Ye gods, what a noisy crew the Alexandrians are!"
The gangway was slung from the ship to the quay; and the master was
receiving the port-authorities, to whom he had to show his papers,
when two men came hurrying across the gangway, which was hedged in by
a guard of sailors to protect it against any intrusion of the gaping
populace. One of them was an obvious Latin, the other a dark-skinned
Sabaean.
"Well, Vettius!" said Lucius, welcoming the Latin, who was his
steward. "I am glad to see you again and I hope that your voyage was
as prosperous as ours!"
Vettius the steward bowed low before his young master, bowed
ceremoniously before fat Uncle Catullus. He had travelled ahead of
his master to seek suitable lodgings at Alexandria and he seemed very
well pleased with what he had found, for he pointed joyfully to the
dark-skinned Sabaean, who had kept behind and now bobbed down with
many salaams and respectful assurances, uttered in a language that
fluctuated between Latin, Greek, Phoenician and Arabic.
"This is Master Ghizla, a native of Saba, my lord," said Vettius,
presenting him, "the owner of the largest guest-house in Alexandria;
and he has at your disposal a row of three suites, standing in their
own gardens, with spacious annexes, near the guest-house proper;
and I am convinced that, when we have put in our own furniture, they
will afford a fit residence for you and the honourable Catullus. Of
course, when travelling, all conveniences are but temporary and not
to be compared with your insula at Rome or your villa at Baiae, now
the property of our gracious Emperor Tiberius."
"It is well, it is well, Vettius," said Lucius. "We shall not be too
hard to please. Are there baths attached to them?"
"There are most comfortable baths attached to them, my lord," declared
Master Ghizla, bobbing down twice and thrice in salaams. "And there
are taps with very cold water and taps with very hot water. They are
suites which I let only to princely nobles like your lordship; and I
have had the honour of lodging in them the Persian Prince Kardusi,
whom you surely know, and Baabab, Satrap of Mesopotamia, whom you
also surely know, my lords, as princely nobles."
"Certainly, certainly," replied Lucius, trying to jest. "Kardusi and
Baabab, I know them well."
"We are even related to them and call them by their names," Uncle
Catullus broke in, airily, with a bow and puffing out his stomach. "But
there is something that I want to ask you, Master Ghizla, something
that neither his lordship nor Master Vettius will care so much about:
are there kitchens to the suites, kitchens where our trusty cook can
prepare us this or that simple fare?"
"There are most comfortable kitchens to these princely suites, my
lord," Master Ghizla assured him. "His Highness the Satrap Baabab
often gave very sumptuous banquets and would invite his excellency
the legate to his table every other day; and near the kitchens there
is a well of water clear as crystal."
"I don't drink much water," said Uncle Catullus.
"We have old Mareotis wine in our cellars, my lord, wine thick as
ink, dark-purple as molten princely sealing-wax and fragrant as the
own lotus of our Lady Isis, blessed be her name! We have also the
rose-coloured date-wine of Meroe and the fine topaz-yellow liqueur
of Napata: we have all the Ethiopian liqueurs...."
"That's better than water," said Uncle Catullus, smacking his
lips. "What say you, my dear Lucius?"
Lucius had made a great effort that morning to control his grief;
together with his uncle and the tutor, he had stared with interest at
the splendid panorama that unrolled itself before their eyes as they
entered the Great Harbour; he had welcomed his steward Vettius with
a kind word; he had interested himself in the apartments which he was
to occupy. Now, however, tired and listless, he had sunk into a seat,
beside the silver image of the goddess, and sat looking disconsolately
in front of him. He was a tall, comely fellow, with an athletic
frame developed by wrestling exercise; and his dark eyes, though
now veiled with melancholy and longing, gleamed with a deep spark
of intelligence. Immensely rich, the sole heir of various relatives
who had died childless, he had joined for but a short time in the mad
orgies of the young Romans of his own rank and had soon devoted himself
to many branches of science, to astronomy in particular, philosophy,
magic, the favourite passion of that period; he amused himself
with modelling and sculpture; as a collector, he loved everything
that was beautiful: pictures and statues, old coins and old glass;
and his Etruscan antiquities were famous all over Rome. Certainly,
he had always desired to see Egypt, to travel through Egypt; and the
sight of the marble palaces of Alexandria had already charmed him
for a moment. But his grief and longing returned to him immediately
after; red anger awoke in him once more and impotent fury that Ilia,
his best-beloved slave, had vanished, one inauspicious morning,
from his villa at Baiae, without leaving a trace behind her.
"Come, Lucius," said Catullus, "we're going on shore now, my dear
fellow. There are our litters waiting for us, prepared by Master
Ghizla's care...."
"With excellent, powerful Libyan bearers, my lord, bearers whom I
reserve exclusively for princely nobles like you...."
"And, if you care first to take a turn through the city, sir,"
Vettius proffered, "I will see to it that the furniture and baggage
are conveyed from the ships to your apartments, so that you will find
everything arranged in time for luncheon."
Although Lucius of course travelled with his own litters and his
own bearers, Ghizla and Vettius had judged that two Alexandrian
litters, with twelve Libyan bearers, would serve his purpose better
at Alexandria, especially because here they were accustomed to
move quicker, at a trot, than in Rome, where the pace was statelier
and slower. Master Ghizla, therefore, who would not fail to charge
the litters and bearers in his bill at double the price and more,
had quickly and slyly set out his litters in front of the gangway,
before Rufus, the under-steward, had even thought of preparing his
master's own litter.
"Very well, Vettius," said Lucius, making an effort and rising. "I
see two litters: those are for Uncle Catullus and me. And how is our
good Thrasyllus to accompany us? For he knows the city already from
the writings of Eratosthenes and Strabo; he can tell us much that
is interesting on the way; and the tour would not afford us half the
same pleasure without him."
"I have had a good donkey saddled for Master Thrasyllus," said Master
Ghizla, with a salaam.
In fact, an ass, held by a boy on a leading-rein, stood waiting behind
the litters, among the open-mouthed populace.
"And if," the Sabaean hinted, suavely, "if I might entrust the noble
lords to the conduct of my younger brother Caleb, he will go in front
of the noble lords and act as a guide with whom they will doubtless
be no less satisfied than were the Prince of Persia and the Satrap
of Mesopotamia...."
"Kardusi and Baabab," Uncle Catullus completed, mischievously. "Two
pleasant, simple fellows: I'm sorry they're gone."
But Ghizla pointed to Caleb, who now came up with a flourish of salaams
and bowed. As against Ghizla, who was tall, lean and dignified, Caleb,
the younger man, was vivacious and sparkling, with dark eyes, flashing
teeth and a gay, smiling mouth. He wore wide striped trousers of many
colours, a white burnous, a red turban and large rings in his ears;
and he spoke better Latin than his brother, with now and then a few
sentences of Greek.
Lucius accepted Caleb as his guide; and they went on shore; and Lucius
and Uncle Catullus took their seats in their litters. Thrasyllus
mounted his quiet donkey; but Caleb flung himself with a swagger on to
a jet-black, gaily-caparisoned Sabaean mare, who neighed when she felt
the red heels of Caleb's sandals in her flanks. So the procession
started: first three ebon-black outrunners, with whips which they
cracked right and left to make room, to drive barking dogs away and
to keep beggars at a distance; then Caleb, proudly sitting his horse
like a young conqueror, always smiling and sparkling with black eyes
and white teeth; then the two litters, with Thrasyllus at the side
on his donkey; and round the three travellers a number of guards,
armed with whips and sticks.
They pressed through the crowd along the quay, where everybody looked
and pointed at the distinguished foreigners; they went at a quick
trot, for the outrunners went at a trot, cracking their whips;
Caleb, on his Sabaean mare, showed off his equestrian powers and
pranced elegantly along upon his steed; the litter-bearers followed
at a short, steady quick-trot; even Thrasyllus' donkey, as sober as
a philosopher, trotted blithely on; and behind trotted the guards,
shaking their sticks and flourishing their long whips. They trotted
along the middle of the broad street, over the great stone flags;
and it seemed as though everything were trotting in a quick rhythm,
including all the other litters, the carts and horsemen, who with
their outrunners and outriders also strove to make their way through
the bustle.
So the cavalcade trotted on; and the street-boys scattered and the
ibises scattered with outstretched necks and wide-flapping wings.
"What crowds of ibises!" Catullus cried. "Thrasyllus, isn't it
comical to see so many ibises walking and fluttering through the
streets of Alexandria?"
"My lord," cried Thrasyllus, from the back of his dancing donkey,
"the ibises are Alexandria's scavengers."
"I dare say, but they are unclean birds themselves for all
that! And they are counted among the sacred animals!" cried Uncle
Catullus. "Whoosh! Whoosh!"
And he drove them away, with a flourish of his arm from the litter,
for the whips of the runners trotting behind circled, it is true,
around the street-boys but ever spared the sacred ibises, one of
which would sometimes stray, fluttering wildly, among the bearers.
Meanwhile Caleb continued to give a graceful equestrian performance
on his snorting mare beside Lucius' litter:
"My lord!" cried Caleb. "Do you see the Heptastadium? The great
bridge leading to the Pharos? Do you see that tall-masted ships are
able to sail under it? It is an interesting walk there of an evening,
my lord: all the beauties of Alexandria go there; and a great nobleman
like yourself need but make his choice and any hetaira in Alexandria
will fall at his feet! This is the Moon Gate, my lord! And this is
the High Street: behind it lies the Rhacotis quarter, which is very
interesting at night, my lord, most interesting for any one like your
lordship to roam through in disguise. But now we are going through
the High Street; and here, you see, is the Square, where the High
Street crosses the Museum Street and the Avenue of Pillars."
Lucius looked around him with enjoyment. They were still going at
a trot, a trot of mare and runners and bearers and donkey, a noisy
trotting between shouting and laughing voices and cracking whips,
while in the streets and squares the hucksters also shouted and laughed
and swore, while the street-boys cheered and screamed for an obolus
and the ibises, flapping their wings, darted away, to alight again
elsewhere and act as scavengers to Alexandria.
"It is very different from Rome in every way," thought Lucius. "It
is the east."
Yes, it was the east. It was Egypt, it was Alexandria. Never
in the Forum at Rome, lively and busy though it was, never in
the basilicas had Lucius beheld this ever trotting, ever hurrying
tumult. It was as though every one were pressed for time and hurrying
feverishly. Processions of priests hurried; the Roman guards even,
returning from the Palace after being relieved, marched with an
accelerated step; and yet the numerous litters never struck against one
another: they all glided at the trot of their bearers, to the right,
to the left, beside one another; there was only a shouting, a din,
a cursing, a cracking of whips loud enough to rouse the dead. Here
was a quarrel, with violent gestures and shrill voices; there the
noisy gaiety of squabbling vegetable-women and bawling vendors
of water-melons; suddenly, in a rage, the women flung cabbages at
the vendors' heads and the vendors sent melons trundling between
the women's legs; the cabbages and melons rolled across the street
and the crowd yelled with enjoyment, while distinguished but still
trotting processions of notables in litters or on horseback made a way
for themselves. The cabbages and melons rolled in front of the feet
of Lucius' bearers; and Caleb, rising in his stirrups with flapping
burnous and uplifted arms, hardly holding the reins in his fingers
while the mare reared on her hind-legs, poured forth a torrent of
curses over the women and the hucksters ... and then turned to Lucius
with a pleased smile, as though all this tumult were the most ordinary
morning affair in the streets of Alexandria.... Yes, that was the
Egyptian character: bustle, tumult, uproar, yelling and cursing for
the least thing; quarrelling for the least thing; and then everything
just ordinary again, as though nothing had happened. All this in a
motley whirl of colours: Rome was monotonously white and colourless
beside it, Lucius thought. Here the colours glared more fiercely:
the citrons, oranges and melons lay yellow and gold over the markets;
and there were exotic fruits too, scarlet and vermilion....
They came to the painters' quarter. Troughs of used colouring-matter
ran in gutters along the streets: there were rivulets of indigo,
there were little waterfalls of ochre. The bearers splashed through
purple and trotted on with purple-black feet. A golden whirl of dust
in the morning sun powdered over these motley colours as with handfuls
of the finest glittering sand. Tall buildings shot up their pillars
in that glitter, seemed to shimmer, to move in that shimmer of light.
Caleb now pointed to the Acropolis, standing fortress-like, four-square
and heavy, protecting and dominating the city. Next came the Sun
Gate. Outside the city-wall was a canal; along the canal ran an avenue
of tall sycamores, bringing a sudden blissful calm and coolness and
silver-green shadows. And now Caleb pointed to the famous lake, Lake
Mareotis: it lay spread out like a sea, but was divided by isthmuses
into smaller inland lakes; there were islands often bearing some
temple to Aphrodite; and along the margins of the lake rose villa
after villa, in royal pomp of marble-coloured villas, casting their
reflections into the limpid water.
"That is where the rich hetairae live," said Caleb, with a wink,
"hetairae for people like your lordship: a prince like you can take
your choice."
Tall papyrus shot up on the lake's edge. There were papyrus-eyots:
the stalks rustled at the least breeze; and on the eyots lived
the basket-makers: there were families of basket-makers; the
children weaving baskets and hampers looked up and cried out for an
obolus. White lotus and pink water-lilies blossomed and small gilt
barges passed across the lake, with coloured awnings to them. Ibises
and cranes fluttered out of the reeds.
"You must come here again in the evening, my lord," Caleb advised,
winking eagerly. "This is the place for one like your lordship to
enjoy himself: at Rhacotis there are only the common women and the
houses where the sailors go. But many princely nobles like to see
everything at Alexandria."
The procession trotted back through the Gate of the Sun, which made a
wide breach in the city-walls, a vaulted arch above Corinthian pillars;
and Caleb said:
"We are now coming to the Avenue of Pillars and to the Museum."
Here again were the bustle, the tumult, the uproar, the shouting
and cheering and cursing, the multitude, litters, horsemen,
pedestrians. The Avenue of Pillars also was swarming, mainly with
students, philosophers and loose women. The sun blazed down in
the middle of the street; there were golden patches of light and
blue-purple islands of shadow. And there was always the golden glitter
of dust, as of the finest sand whirling through the air. Here were the
hair-dressers and barbers; here were the baths, here the tailors'-shops
with their riot of colours and here the glittering jewellers'-shops and
here, behind tables, stood the money-changers. There were stretches
of green garden; and behind the gardens loomed the colonnades of the
Museum. Close by were the Gymnasium and the Athletic School.
"Will your lordship visit the Museum?" asked Caleb, still parading
his horsemanship on the Sabaean mare.
Thrasyllus thought that it would be interesting to visit the Museum;
and the travellers alighted. There was a great rush to see them. Uncle
Catullus threw oboli among the street-boys, who rolled over one
another, fighting. Beggars approached, grey-bearded men like prophets
and old women like sibyls; and Lucius flung a coin here and there.
The runners and guards drew themselves up around the two litters,
the mare and the donkey; but Caleb walked in front of the travellers,
mincing elegantly on the tips of his red riding-boots and holding
the hem of his burnous in his swaying hand. It was as though he were
always dancing, whether on horseback or on foot.
"The Museum," Caleb explained, "is, as your lordships know, the
Academy of Alexandria, founded by the beautiful Cleopatra."
"That is not true," Thrasyllus whispered to his young master. "It
was founded by Ptolemy the First."
"Here philosophers and scholars in every branch of science devote
themselves to study; and they are surrounded by thousands of disciples
from all countries. But both masters and pupils are as poor as rats
and do not, all told, possess ... that!" said Caleb, with a flip of
his finger and thumb.
"The Museum has produced great scholars," Thrasyllus expounded,
more appreciatively, "such as Euclid, Erasistratus and Diophantus;
then there were the poets Theocritus, Aratus, Callimachus; and among
critics Aristarchus; and among philosophers more than I could name."
"And because they are so poor, all these learned gentry," said Caleb,
with a laugh, pointing, as they entered the gardens of the Museum
through a portico, to stately white-cloaked figures walking to and fro,
"because they are so poor, they live on a fund provided by the State:
they're no use for anything, these learned gentry; but they are
certainly clever, my lords, they're all that: you won't find their
equals for cleverness anywhere. And the books they collect! Their
library is quite famous.... Look," continued Caleb, pointing, "it
is just the time when they have their mid-day meal: it seems to be
philosophical to do so earlier than princely nobles are used to do. No
doubt it will interest you, as strangers, to see so many very wise and
poverty-stricken scholars and philosophers eating their black broth."
The colonnades of the Museum loomed aloft; there were statues to
commemorate famous men of learning; and there was an immense rounded
exedra, from which lectures were delivered at frequent intervals. The
travellers entered the cenaculum, the refectory, which was wide,
lofty and very long; the scholars and philosophers sat eating at
long tables; Lucius was struck by the fact that they were sitting,
instead of reclining.
"They don't know any better," Caleb explained. "They just sit down for
a moment and gobble up their broth; they are not epicures, they are
only just clever, you see. They have more in their heads, my lords,
than in their pockets. But they have plenty in their heads beyond
a doubt."
A philosopher moved towards the strangers. He was very old, frail and
grey and looked like a long dry stalk, in his toga. He smiled and
mumbled words which at first were incomprehensible. From the folds
of his garment he stretched forth a clawlike hand. He was begging;
and Lucius gave him some money.
"The highest philosophy is ... to be satisfied with little," he then
said, plainly, in pure Greek.
And he bowed, ironically, and turned away with the movement of a long
dry stalk, in his dirty cloak.
"The shameless rascal!" cried Uncle Catullus, indignantly.
But Lucius laughed and looked down the long table at which the men
of learning ate. Sometimes a beggar would come up to them; and they
gave him their bread and fruit. Sometimes, too, dogs snuffled around;
and the men of learning flung them their offal, over which the dogs
choked greedily. Two ibises also walked in ludicrous high-legged
state through the cenaculum, pecking here and there, and kept the
floor clean, though they themselves were not so cleanly.
The travellers returned to their litters; and, amid much shouting and
cursing and swearing at street-boys and cracking of whips at beggars,
the procession started, while Caleb, for no reason, insisted on making
his mare rear and curvet across the street with elegant movements of
her fore-feet.
But now, smiling with his black eyes and white teeth, he bent to one
side, low enough almost to slip from his mount, and asked Lucius:
"Would your lordship now like to see the Soma?"
And through the public gardens of Bruchium, along the Paneum--an
artificial little rocky mountain built up in the shape of a top or
pineapple--the procession trotted to the Soma, the burying-place
of the Ptolemies, where it lay in the cool shade of sycamores and
tamarisks. A long avenue of recumbent sphinxes, male--bearded--and
female--high-breasted--led to the pyramid tombs. The travellers
alighted and the old priests in charge appeared.
"These distinguished strangers wish to see the burial-places of the
Ptolemies," said Caleb. "They are princely nobles and no doubt will
also be interested in the tomb of Alexander the Great."
"Death is but a slumbering and a twilight transition to the halls of
eternal sunshine," replied the priest in charge. "Earthly greatness
is the perishable step to the imperishable palace of Osiris, where
our dead monarchs now sit enthroned around him, their heads circled
with the pschent and their hands grasping the scarab sceptre. And
great Isis has appeared to them as the splendour of truth, for she
lifted her veil for their delight, so that they saw her. Life is but
a dream, death is a bridge and eternity is life."
Caleb walked mincingly in front, on the tips of his red riding-boots,
and pointed out things, while the old priest went on reciting
the eternal verities, as though to himself, The tombs of granite,
porphyry and marble, inscribed with hieroglyphics, rose like temples,
pyramid-shaped. The priest now went in front of the travellers and
descended a few steps: inside, in the subterranean vault, invisible,
the mummies rested in their painted sarcophagi; standing lamps burned
on their tripods, perfumes rose in a cloud from vases and dishes;
and daintily-coloured glass vessels, filled with oil, honey and
fruit, stood on low bronze tables, while amphorae of consecrated water
awaited the hour of the resurrection, when the dead should rise and
be baptized into the true new life, which was eternity. There was
an overpowering scent of sickly-sweet aromatics; and in the mist of
the perfumes the big, wide-open eyes of the painted images on the
sarcophagus-lids stared, ghostly and superhuman, straight before them
into the brightening future. They were images of bearded kings and
ibis-crowned queens; sometimes they were images of children.
Through the mist of the aromatics the golden, winged suns gleamed in
the embrace of the snakes coiled tail in mouth. Sacred Horus, son
of Osiris and Isis, the radiant redeemer of mankind, who descended
out of pity on a sinful world, bestrode Typhon, the grinning spirit
of evil. There were images of the god Apis, of the god Ra, of Thoth
and Anubis, with the heads of an ox, an ibis, a dog.
After this, the shade of the sycamores and tamarisks outside the tombs
was silver-green and cool; and the pure air of the sunny morning
seemed strange after the perfumed, sickly-sweet atmosphere of the
sultry underground sepulchres. The priest in charge stopped before a
gleaming marble pyramid. The narrow bronze door hung tapering upwards
between pilasters carved with lotus-capitals.
"The tomb of Alexander of Macedon," said the custodian, solemnly.
They went inside. Again, burning lamps shed their fragrance. There
was a heavy mist of nard. Behind a bronze railing on a basalt pedestal
stood a sarcophagus of transparent crystal, polished and engraved. And
within this thick crystal, in a green watery light, where the flame
of the lamps was mirrored in the glass, a mummy lay visible. It was
like the chrysalis of a gigantic moth. The face was stained brown with
balsam and salve and stared with eyes of beryl. The hair and short
beard were painted gold. Many-coloured bandages wrapped the body in
a close sheath; and the legs also were closely fastened together in
a case of gold filagree.
The mummy lay on a mattress of striped byssus, the head on a byssus
pillow. The scarlet lips seemed to grin in the crisp golden beard
and the beryl eyes were full of amazement at what they saw in eternity.
"These are the sacred remains of the great Alexander," said the priest
in charge. "History teaches us that Ptolemy, son of Lagus, took the
body of the hero and conqueror from Perdiccas, who was bringing it
back from Babylon to Macedon, but was passing through Egypt in the
hope of conquering our sacred country. Ptolemy marched against him;
Perdiccas had hardly set foot in Egypt when he perished at the hands of
his own soldiery on an island which had been surrounded by Ptolemy's
troops. With Perdiccas were the royal family: Alexander's pregnant
widow Roxana and her young children. They were allowed to embark for
Macedon, but the body of Alexander the Great was carried to Alexandria
and buried in state in a massive gold sarcophagus. This sarcophagus
was stolen by Ptolemy Parisactus, a pretender to the Egyptian throne,
who invaded the country from Syria with a host of troops. Alexander's
body, however, was rescued from his hands and laid in this crystal
coffin. Here it lies."
Lucius and his companions stared, greatly moved by the sight of this
corpse nearly three centuries old, embalmed and bandaged, with its
feet in a sheath of gold filagree and its beryl eyes staring with
surprise. Was this chrysalis all that remained of the great Alexander,
whom the oracle of Ammon had declared to be the son of Ammon-Ra son
of the sun-god?
Only Caleb remained indifferent, with his mincing gait and an
incredulous little laugh at the genuineness of Alexander's body, to
which he had already conducted so many "princely nobles," including
Kardusi of Persia and Baabab of Mesopotamia.
"Here lies Alexander the Great," continued the priest in charge. "The
warrior, the conqueror, the king of kings, the son of the sacred
sun-god, Ammon-Ra, descended upon earth. He lived to be thirty-three
in this terrestrial life. But this life is a dream and death is the
bridge to the life that is the eternal reality. The soul has departed
from this house embalmed with precious ointments...."
And he added, in a different voice:
"Even to your excellencies the charge is only one gold stater
a head...."
"I will pay for you, my lord!" smiled Caleb, with an elegant bow
to Lucius.
And he paid the priest, who went on speaking, with the gold coins
shining in his uplifted hand:
"Generosity is a great virtue. He who gives more than he is asked to
give earns the favour of Thoth, who sews the good chances of fortune
upon the earth."
Caleb grinned with flashing teeth to show that he understood and
dropped another half-stater into the priest's palm.
The travellers stepped out of the sepulchre. The sunny morning outside
seemed strange, with silver-green shadows between waving tamarisks
and rustling sycamore-leaves.
Lucius was pale. And he said to Thrasyllus and Uncle Catullus:
"Death!... Death!... She is perhaps dead.... She is drowned, perhaps,
in the sea ... and we shall never recover her exquisite body, to
embalm it...."
"In any case she has disappeared, my dear nephew," said Uncle Catullus,
trying to console him. "Let us think of her no more. By all the gods,
try to forget her: she had thick ankles and large feet.... Lucius,
do be sensible at last! Enjoy yourself during this interesting
tour. We have had a morning more interesting than any that we ever
had at Rome. We have seen an ideal system of scavenging, we have
heard philosophical and religious truths and we have seen the mummy
of Alexander! I've really received too many new impressions. My
brains are soaked like an overfull sponge: they can contain no more
this morning. That sated condition of the head makes my stomach feel
empty, as empty as my pocket when your liberality has forgotten to
line it for your old uncle. My dear Lucius, when travelling one must
be sparing ... of one's powers. I suggest to our indefatigable guide
that we should go home and see if, in our absence, our trusty cook has
remembered that, though life is a dream, even the dead and therefore
all the more the living have to be fed. The dead are sustained with
oil, honey and fruit: I am curious to see what our cook's pious
thoughts have prepared to-day for the living."
The procession trotted home through the gardens of Bruchium, the palace
quarter, and along the Hippodrome to Master Ghizla's great diversorium,
or guest-house. It stood near the Canopian gate in an oval garden,
behind a hedge of tall cactuses; the door opened between two figures
of Hermes. Here sat the janitor, or porter; and the travellers were
struck by the fact that a winged head of Hermes, in marble, crowned the
marble architrave of the door. Caducei, or Hermes'-wands, with winding
snakes, were carved on the pilasters of the door; for the diversorium
was dedicated to Hermes and known in the quarter as the Hermes House.
The janitor rose and bowed, with his hands stretched to the
ground. Master Ghizla also, standing beside a statue of Hermes in
the middle of his garden, bowed in this fashion, bending low, with
his hands stretched groundwards.
The procession trotted in, the travellers alighted, but Caleb sat his
mare, bowed gracefully and, stooping forward, whispered in Lucius' ear:
"After you have rested, my lord, I will take you whither you please,
I will procure you whatsoever you please ... for your lordship's
pleasure and gratification. Whithersoever you please and whatsoever
you please.... I wish you good luck at your repast."
With that he threw the mare on her haunches, stood up in the stirrups,
waved his burnous, uttered a cry and rode away, in a cloud of graceful
gestures.
The diversorium consisted of several low buildings. It harboured
Arabian and Phoenician merchants, who looked out curiously, squatting
on mats or lying at their meal, served by black slaves. But Master
Ghizla led his "princely guests" to their own suites; and Vettius and
Rufus received the travellers on the threshold. They had worked to
good purpose, conveying furniture, boxes and packing-cases on camels
and mules. A Babylonian carpet lay upon the floor; the travellers'
own beds were ready; in the corners of Lucius' bedroom stood bronze
and marble statues, for no important Roman with any pretension to
taste travelled without carrying a few of his treasures with him; and
perfumes burned before the statues. There were curtains hanging from
rings; and garments lay ready, neatly folded and strewn with fragrant
flowers, on long, low, sycamore-wood tables. There were metal mirrors
on bronze pedestals; all the brushes, tweezers and unguent-sticks, in
gold adorned with agates, lay spread on bronze tables; all the jars,
pots and vases essential to the toilet stood filled with cosmetics,
ointments and perfumes. All this furniture and upholstery, all these
useful and artistic possessions had been brought over from the ship.
"My diversorium boasts every possible comfort, my lord, and all
the latest conveniences," bragged Ghizla, "which visitors like your
lordship demand in these days."
He lifted a curtain beside Lucius' couch: there was in fact a marble
basin with taps, under a canopy.
"And here," said Master Ghizla, "is your triclinium."
The dining-room which Master Ghizla described by this high-sounding
name was a pleasant, spacious, airy apartment, with sun-blinds between
pillars; and, as Lucius entered, he was greeted with the music of
harps. For all the wealthy young Roman's "family" were drawn up there
in two rows, awaiting his arrival: Vettius and Rufus and Tarrar, the
little black slave; all his slaves, male and female, all the great
household without which no distinguished Roman thought it possible to
live, even--indeed especially--when travelling. And, amid the female
slaves, stood the Greek slave from Cos, Cora, with two other harpists;
and they drew long, descending cords from their strings, while Cora
sang a short song of welcome to the gracious master. Incense burned on
dishes; two S-shaped couches coiled round a long, low table covered
with a yellow-and-white cloth and already laid with yellow-and-white
crockery and gleaming gold plate. A little fountain of verbena-water
played in the middle of a bowl filled with blue lotus.
Lucius assured Vettius and Rufus that he was really pleased; indeed it
was as though he were at home. Then, because Uncle Catullus said that
he was starving, he invited his uncle and parasite, who had so often
diverted him with a merry jest, to lie down, lay down himself and
motioned Thrasyllus, his friend and tutor, to a stool by his side,
for, though Thrasyllus shared his pupil's meals, as a freedman he
remained the inferior and ate seated. Tarrar and three girl-slaves
waited, while Cora and the two harpists struck a soft melody from
their strings or danced a little ballet.
Uncle Catullus was glad to have neither oysters nor roast peacock
set before him: Lucius' cook had surpassed himself, in this first
exotic repast, with a first course of peppered water-melon in sugared
wine-sauce, with which was served an Egyptian spiced bread, named
caces; next, young tunnies, surrounded by savoury eggs, stuffed
olives and finely chopped coxcombs; next, a sucking-pig served on
bread-fruit and cucumbers; lastly, a honey-tart, covered with a
cream custard containing stoned dates and cinnamon. They had the
celebrated Mareotis wine, thick as ink and purple as molten wax,
poured by Master Ghizla himself out of a jar still warm from the sun;
and there was the topaz-yellow Ethiopian liqueur of Napata, which he
dripped drop by drop into goblets filled with snow and which spread
an aroma as of roses steeped in silphium.
Uncle Catullus ate his fill and Lucius too did honour to the meal,
however much his heart still suffered and craved, while Thrasyllus
was moderate as always. Then a legitimate drowsiness overcame the
three travellers and they withdrew behind their curtains, to rest.