All the black masses of clouds which during the night had darkened
the blue sky and hidden the light of the moon had now completely
disappeared. The north-east wind which rose towards morning had floated
them away, and Zeus, devourer of the clouds, had swallowed them up to
the very last. It was a glorious morning, and as the sun rose in the
heavens, and pierced and burnt up with augmenting haste the pale
mist that hovered over the Nile, and the vapor that hung--a delicate
transparent veil of bluish-grey bombyx-gauze--over the eastern slopes,
the cool shades of night vanished too from the dusky nooks of the narrow
town which lay, mile-wide, along the western bank of the river. And the
intensely brilliant sunlight which now bathed the streets and houses,
the palaces and temples, the gardens and avenues, and the innumerable
vessels in the harbor of Memphis, was associated with a glow of warmth
which was welcome even there in the early morning of a winter’s day.
Boats’ captains and sailors--were hurrying down to the shore of the Nile
to avail themselves of the northeast breeze to travel southwards against
the current, and sails were being hoisted and anchors heaved, to an
accompaniment of loud singing. The quay was so crowded with ships that
it was difficult to understand how those that were ready could ever
disentangle themselves, and find their way through those remaining
behind; but each somehow found an outlet by which to reach the navigable
stream, and ere long the river was swarming with boats, all sailing
southwards, and giving it the appearance of an endless perspective of
camp tents set afloat.
Long strings of camels with high packs, of more lightly laden asses, and
of dark-colored slaves, were passing down the road to the harbor; these
last were singing, as yet unhurt by the burden of the day, and the
overseers’ whips were still in their girdles.
Ox-carts were being laden or coming down to the landing-place with
goods, and the ship’s captains were already beginning to collect round
the different great merchants--of whom the greater number were Greeks,
and only a few dressed in Egyptian costume--in order to offer their
freight for sale, or to hire out their vessels for some new expedition.
The greatest bustle and noise were at a part of the quay where, under
large tents, the custom-house officials were busily engaged, for most
vessels first cast anchor at Memphis to pay duty or Nile-toll on the
“king’s table.” The market close to the harbor also was a gay scene;
there dates and grain, the skins of beasts, and dried fish were piled
in great heaps, and bleating and bellowing herds of cattle were driven
together to be sold to the highest bidder.
Soldiers on foot and horseback in gaudy dresses and shining armor,
mingled with the busy crowd, like peacocks and gaudy cocks among the
fussy swarm of hens in a farm yard; lordly courtiers, in holiday dresses
of showy red, blue and yellow stuffs, were borne by slaves in litters
or standing on handsome gilt chariots; garlanded priests walked about
in long white robes, and smartly dressed girls were hurrying down to the
taverns near the harbor to play the flute or to dance.
The children that were playing about among this busy mob looked
covetously at the baskets piled high with cakes, which the bakers’ boys
were carrying so cleverly on their heads. The dogs innumerable, put up
their noses as the dealers in such dainties passed near them, and many
of them set up longing howls when a citizen’s wife came by with her
slaves, carrying in their baskets freshly killed fowls, and juicy meats
to roast for the festival, among heaps of vegetables and fruits.
Gardeners’ boys and young girls were bearing garlands of flowers,
festoons and fragrant nosegays, some piled on large trays which they
carried two and two, some on smaller boards or hung on cross poles for
one to carry; at that part of the quay where the king’s barge lay at
anchor numbers of workmen were busily employed in twining festoons of
greenery and flowers round the flag-staffs, and in hanging them with
lanterns.
Long files of the ministers of the god-representing the five phyla or
orders of the priesthood of the whole country--were marching, in holiday
attire, along the harbor-road in the direction of the palace, and the
jostling crowd respectfully made way for them to pass. The gleams of
festal splendor seemed interwoven with the laborious bustle on the quay
like scraps of gold thread in a dull work-a-day garment.
Euergetes, brother of the king, was keeping his birthday in Memphis
to-day, and all the city was to take part in the festivities.
At the first hour after sunrise victims had been sacrificed in the
temple of Ptah, the most ancient, and most vast of the sanctuaries
of the venerable capital of the Pharaohs; the sacred Apis-bull, but
recently introduced into the temple, was hung all over with golden
ornaments; early in the morning Euergetes had paid his devotions to the
sacred beast--which had eaten out of his hand, a favorable augury of
success for his plans; and the building in which the Apis lived, as
well as the stalls of his mother and of the cows kept for him, had been
splendidly decked with flowers.
The citizens of Memphis were not permitted to pursue their avocations or
ply their trades beyond the hour of noon; then the markets, the booths,
the workshops and schools were to be closed, and on the great square in
front of the temple of Ptah, where the annual fair was held, dramas both
sacred and profane, and shows of all sorts were to be seen, heard and
admired by men, women and children--provided at the expense of the two
kings.
Two men of Alexandria, one an AEolian of Lesbos, and the other a Hebrew
belonging to the Jewish community, but who was not distinguishable by
dress or accent from his Greek fellow-citizens, greeted each other on
the quay opposite the landing-place for the king’s vessels, some of
which were putting out into the stream, spreading their purple sails and
dipping their prows inlaid with ivory and heavily gilt.
“In a couple of hours,” said the Jew, “I shall be travelling homewards.
May I offer you a place in my boat, or do you propose remaining here to
assist at the festival and not starting till to-morrow morning? There
are all kinds of spectacles to be seen, and when it is dark a grand
illumination is to take place.”
“What do I care for their barbarian rubbish?” answered the Lesbian.
“Why, the Egyptian music alone drives me to distraction. My business is
concluded. I had inspected the goods brought from Arabia and India by
way of Berenice and Coptos, and had selected those I needed before the
vessel that brought them had moored in the Mariotic harbor, and other
goods will have reached Alexandria before me. I will not stay an hour
longer than is necessary in this horrible place, which is as dismal as
it is huge. Yesterday I visited the gymnasium and the better class of
baths--wretched, I call them! It is an insult to the fish-market and the
horse-ponds of Alexandria to compare them with them.”
“And the theatre!” exclaimed the Jew. “The exterior one can bear to look
at--but the acting! Yesterday they gave the ‘Thals’ of Menander, and
I assure you that in Alexandria the woman who dared to impersonate
the bewitching and cold-hearted Hetaira would have been driven off the
stage--they would have pelted her with rotten apples. Close by me there
sat a sturdy, brown Egyptian, a sugar-baker or something of the kind,
who held his sides with laughing, and yet, I dare swear, did not
understand a word of the comedy. But in Memphis it is the fashion
to know Greek, even among the artisans. May I hope to have you as my
guest?”
“With pleasure, with pleasure!” replied the Lesbian. “I was about to
look out for a boat. Have you done your business to your satisfaction?”
“Tolerably!” answered the Jew. “I have purchased some corn from Upper
Egypt, and stored it in the granaries here. The whole of that row yonder
were to let for a mere song, and so we get off cheaply when we let the
wheat lie here instead of at Alexandria where granaries are no longer to
be had for money.”
“That is very clever!” replied the Greek. “There is bustle enough here
in the harbor, but the many empty warehouses and the low rents prove
how Memphis is going down. Formerly this city was the emporium for all
vessels, but now for the most part they only run in to pay the toll
and to take in supplies for their crews. This populous place has a big
stomach, and many trades drive a considerable business here, but most of
those that fail here are still carried on in Alexandria.”
“It is the sea that is lacking,” interrupted the Jew; “Memphis trades
only with Egypt, and we with the whole world. The merchant who sends
his goods here only load camels, and wretched asses, and flat-bottomed
Nile-boats, while we in our harbors freight fine seagoing vessels. When
the winter-storms are past our house alone sends twenty triremes with
Egyptian wheat to Ostia and to Pontus; and your Indian and Arabian
goods, your imports from the newly opened Ethiopian provinces, take
up less room, but I should like to know how many talents your trade
amounted to in the course of the past year. Well then, farewell till we
meet again on my boat; it is called the Euphrosyne, and lies out there,
exactly opposite the two statues of the old king--who can remember these
stiff barbarian names? In three hours we start. I have a good cook on
board, who is not too particular as to the regulations regarding food by
which my countrymen in Palestine live, and you will find a few new books
and some capital wine from Byblos.”
“Then we need not dread a head-wind,” laughed the Lesbian. “We meet
again in three hours.”
The Israelite waved his hand to his travelling companion, and proceeded
at first along the shore under the shade of an alley of sycamores with
their broad unsymmetrical heads of foliage, but presently he turned
aside into a narrow street which led from the quay to the city. He stood
still for a moment opposite the entrance of the corner house, one side
of which lay parallel to the stream while the other--exhibiting the
front door, and a small oil-shop--faced the street; his attention had
been attracted to it by a strange scene; but he had still much to attend
to before starting on his journey, and he soon hurried on again without
noticing a tall man who came towards him, wearing a travelling-hat and a
cloak such as was usually adapted only for making journeys.
The house at which the Jew had gazed so fixedly was that of Apollodorus,
the sculptor, and the man who was so strangely dressed for a walk
through the city at this hour of the day was the Roman, Publius Scipio.
He seemed to be still more attracted by what was going on in the little
stall by the sculptor’s front door, than even the Israelite had been; he
leaned against the fence of the garden opposite the shop, and stood for
some time gazing and shaking his head at the strange things that were to
be seen within.
A wooden counter supported by the wall of the house-which was used
by customers to lay their money on and which generally held a few
oil-jars-projected a little way into the street like a window-board,
and on this singular couch sat a distinguished looking youth in a light
blue, sleeveless chiton, turning his back on the stall itself, which was
not much bigger than a good sized travelling-chariot. By his side lay a
“Himation”--[A long square cloak, and an indispensable part of the dress
of the Greeks.]--of fine white woolen stuff with a blue border. His legs
hung out into the street, and his brilliant color stood out in wonderful
contrast to the dark skin of a naked Egyptian boy, who crouched at his
feet with a cage full of doves.
The young Greek sitting on the window-counter had a golden fillet on his
oiled and perfumed curls, sandals of the finest leather on his feet, and
even in these humble surroundings looked elegant--but even more merry
than elegant--for the whole of his handsome face was radiant with
smiles while he tied two small rosy-grey turtle doves with ribands
of rose-colored bombyx-silk to the graceful basket in which they were
sitting, and then slipped a costly gold bracelet over the heads of the
frightened birds, and attached it to their wings with a white silk tie.
When he had finished this work he held the basket up, looked at it with
a smile of satisfaction, and he was in the very act of handing it to the
black boy when he caught sight of Publius, who went up to him from the
garden-fence.
“In the name of all the gods, Lysias,” cried the Roman, without greeting
his friend, “what fool’s trick are you at there again! Are you turned
oil-seller, or have you taken to training pigeons?”
“I am the one, and I am doing the other,” answered the Corinthian with
a laugh, for he it was to whom the Roman’s speech was addressed. “How do
you like my nest of young doves? It strikes me as uncommonly pretty, and
how well the golden circlet that links their necks becomes the little
creatures!”
“Here, put out your claws, you black crocodile,” he continued, turning
to his little assistant, “carry the basket carefully into the house, and
repeat what I say, ‘From the love-sick Lysias to the fair Irene’--Only
look, Publius, how the little monster grins at me with his white teeth.
You shall hear that his Greek is far less faultless than his teeth.
Prick up your ears, you little ichneumon--now once more repeat what you
are to say in there--do you see where I am pointing with my finger?--to
the master or to the lady who shall take the doves from you.”
With much pitiful stammering the boy repeated the Corinthian’s message
to Irene, and as he stood there with his mouth wide open, Lysias, who
was an expert at “ducks and drakes” on the water, neatly tossed into it
a silver drachma. This mouthful was much to the little rascal’s taste,
for after he had taken the coin out of his mouth he stood with wide-open
jaws opposite his liberal master, waiting for another throw; Lysias
however boxed him lightly on his ears, and chucked him under the chin,
saying as he snapped the boy’s teeth together:
“Now carry up the birds and wait for the answer.” “This offering is to
Irene, then?” said Publius. “We have not met for a long time; where were
you all day yesterday?”
“It will be far more entertaining to hear what you were about all the
night long. You are dressed as if you had come straight here from Rome.
Euergetes has already sent for you once this morning, and the queen
twice; she is over head and ears in love with you.”
“Folly! Tell me now what you were doing all yesterday.”
“Tell me first where you have been.”
“I had to go some distance and will tell you all about it later, but
not now; and I encountered strange things on my way--aye, I must say
extraordinary things. Before sunrise I found a bed in the inn yonder,
and to my own great surprise I slept so soundly that I awoke only two
hours since.”
“That is a very meagre report; but I know of old that if you do not
choose to speak no god could drag a syllable from you. As regards myself
I should do myself an injury by being silent, for my heart is like an
overloaded beast of burden and talking will relieve it. Ah! Publius,
my fate to-day is that of the helpless Tantalus, who sees juicy pears
bobbing about under his nose and tempting his hungry stomach, and yet
they never let him catch hold of them, only look-in there dwells Irene,
the pear, the peach, the pomegranate, and my thirsting heart is consumed
with longing for her. You may laugh--but to-day Paris might meet Helen
with impunity, for Eros has shot his whole store of arrows into me. You
cannot see them, but I can feel them, for not one of them has he drawn
out of the wound. And the darling little thing herself is not wholly
untouched by the winged boy’s darts. She has confessed so much to me
myself. It is impossible for me to refuse her any thing, and so I was
fool enough to swear a horrible oath that I would not try to see
her till she was reunited to her tall solemn sister, of whom I am
exceedingly afraid. Yesterday I lurked outside this house just as a
hungry wolf in cold weather sneaks about a temple where lambs are being
sacrificed, only to see her, or at least to hear a word from her lips,
for when she speaks it is like the song of nightingales--but all in
vain. Early this morning I came back to the city and to this spot; and
as hanging about forever was of no use, I bought up the stock of the old
oil-seller, who is asleep there in the corner, and settled myself in his
stall, for here no one can escape me, who enters or quits Apollodorus’
house--and, besides, I am only forbidden to visit Irene; she herself
allows me to send her greetings, and no one forbids me, not even
Apollodorus, to whom I spoke an hour ago.”
“And that basket of birds that your dusky errand-boy carried into the
house just now, was such a ‘greeting?”
“Of course--that is the third already. First I sent her a lovely nosegay
of fresh pomegranate-blossoms, and with it a few verses I hammered out
in the course of the night; then a basket of peaches which she likes
very much, and now the doves. And there lie her answers--the dear, sweet
creature! For my nosegay I got this red riband, for the fruit this peach
with a piece bitten out. Now I am anxious to see what I shall get for my
doves. I bought that little brown scamp in the market, and I shall take
him with me to Corinth as a remembrance of Memphis, if he brings me back
something pretty this time. There, I hear the door, that is he; come
here youngster, what have you brought?” Publius stood with his arms
crossed behind his back, hearing and watching the excited speech and
gestures of his friend who seemed to him, to-day more than ever, one of
those careless darlings of the gods, whose audacious proceedings give
us pleasure because they match with their appearance and manner, and
we feel they can no more help their vagaries than a tree can help
blossoming. As soon as Lysias spied a small packet in the boy’s hand he
did not take it from him but snatched up the child, who was by no means
remarkably small, by the leather belt that fastened up his loin-cloth,
tossed him up as if he were a plaything, and set him down on the table
by his side, exclaiming:
“I will teach you to fly, my little hippopotamus! Now, show me what you
have got.”
He hastily took the packet from the hand of the youngster, who looked
quite disconcerted, weighed it in his hand and said, turning to Publius:
“There is something tolerably heavy in this--what can it contain?”
“I am quite inexperienced in such matters,” replied the Roman.
“And I much experienced,” answered Lysias. “It might be, wait-it might
be the clasp of her girdle in here. Feel, it is certainly something
hard.”
Publius carefully felt the packet that the Corinthian held out to him,
with his fingers, and then said with a smile:
“I can guess what you have there, and if I am right I shall be much
pleased. Irene, I believe, has returned you the gold bracelet on a
little wooden tablet.”
“Nonsense!” answered Lysias. “The ornament was prettily wrought and of
some value, and every girl is fond of ornaments.”
“Your Corinthian friends are, at any rate. But look what the wrapper
contains.”
“Do you open it,” said the Corinthian.
Publius first untied a thread, then unfolded a small piece of white
linen, and came at last to an object wrapped in a bit of flimsy, cheap
papyrus. When this last envelope was removed, the bracelet was in fact
discovered, and under it lay a small wax tablet.
Lysias was by no means pleased with this discovery, and looked
disconcerted and annoyed at the return of his gift; but he soon mastered
his vexation, and said turning to his friend, who was not in the least
maliciously triumphant, but who stood looking thoughtfully at the
ground.
“Here is something on the little tablet--the sauce no doubt to the
peppered dish she has set before me.”
“Still, eat it,” interrupted Publius. “It may do you good for the
future.”
Lysias took the tablet in his hand, and after considering it carefully
on both sides he said:
“It belongs to the sculptor, for there is his name. And there--why she
has actually spiced the sauce or, if you like it better the bitter dose,
with verses. They are written more clearly than beautifully, still they
are of the learned sort.”
“Well?” asked the Roman with curiosity, as Lysias read the lines to
himself; the Greek did not look up from the writing but sighed softly,
and rubbing the side of his finely-cut nose with his finger he replied:
“Very pretty, indeed, for any one to whom they are not directly
addressed. Would you like to hear the distich?”
“Read it to me, I beg of you.”
“Well then,” said the Corinthian, and sighing again he read aloud;
‘Sweet is the lot of the couple whom love has united;
But gold is a debt, and needs must at once be restored.’
“There, that is the dose. But doves are not human creatures, and I
know at once what my answer shall be. Give me the fibula, Publius, that
clasps that cloak in which you look like one of your own messengers. I
will write my answer on the wax.”
The Roman handed to Lysias the golden circlet armed with a strong pin,
and while he stood holding his cloak together with his hands, as he
was anxious to avoid recognition by the passers-by that frequented this
street, the Corinthian wrote as follows:
“When doves are courting the lover adorns himself only;
But when a youth loves, he fain would adorn his beloved.”
“Am I allowed to hear it?” asked Publius, and his friend at once read
him the lines; then he gave the tablet to the boy, with the bracelet
which he hastily wrapped up again, and desired him to take it back
immediately to the fair Irene. But the Roman detained the lad, and
laying his hand on the Greek’s shoulder, he asked him: “And if the young
girl accepts this gift, and after it many more besides--since you are
rich enough to make her presents to her heart’s content--what then,
Lysias?”
“What then?” repeated the other with more indecision and embarrassment
than was his wont. “Then I wait for Klea’s return home and--Aye! you may
laugh at me, but I have been thinking seriously of marrying this girl,
and taking her with me to Corinth. I am my father’s only son, and for
the last three years he has given me no peace. He is bent on my mother’s
finding me a wife or on my choosing one for myself. And if I took him
the pitch-black sister of this swarthy lout I believe he would be glad.
I never was more madly in love with any girl than with this little
Irene, as true as I am your friend; but I know why you are looking at me
with a frown like Zeus the Thunderer. You know of what consequence our
family is in Corinth, and when I think of that, then to be sure--”
“Then to be sure?” enquired the Roman in sharp, grave tone.
“Then I reflect that a water-bearer--the daughter of an outlawed man, in
our house--”
“And do you consider mine as being any less illustrious in Rome than
your own is in Corinth?” asked Publius sternly.
“On the contrary, Publius Cornelius Scipio Nasica. We are important by
our wealth, you by your power and estates.”
“So it is--and yet I am about to conduct Irene’s sister Klea as my
lawful wife to my father’s house.”
“You are going to do that!” cried Lysias springing from his seat, and
flinging himself on the Roman’s breast, though at this moment a party
of Egyptians were passing by in the deserted street. “Then all is well,
then--oh! what a weight is taken off my mind!--then Irene shall be
my wife as sure as I live! Oh Eros and Aphrodite and Father Zeus and
Apollo! how happy I am! I feel as if the biggest of the Pyramids yonder
had fallen off my heart. Now, you rascal, run up and carry to the fair
Irene, the betrothed of her faithful Lysias--mark what I say--carry her
at once this tablet and bracelet. But you will not say it right; I will
write here above my distich: ‘From the faithful Lysias to the fair Irene
his future wife.’ There--and now I think she will not send the thing
back again, good girl that she is! Listen, rascal, if she keeps it you
may swallow cakes to-day out on the Grand Square till you burst--and
yet I have only just paid five gold pieces for you. Will she keep the
bracelet, Publius--yes or no?”
“She will keep it.”
A few minutes later the boy came hurrying back, and pulling the Greek
vehemently by his dress, he cried:
“Come, come with me, into the house.” Lysias with a light and graceful
leap sprang right over the little fellow’s head, tore open the door, and
spread out his arms as he caught sight of Irene, who, though trembling
like a hunted gazelle, flew down the narrow ladder-like stairs to meet
him, and fell on his breast laughing and crying and breathless.
In an instant their lips met, but after this first kiss she tore herself
from his arms, rushed up the stairs again, and then, from the top step,
shouted joyously:
“I could not help seeing you this once! now farewell till Klea comes,
then we meet again,” and she vanished into an upper room.
Lysias turned to his friend like one intoxicated, he threw himself down
on his bench, and said:
“Now the heavens may fall, nothing can trouble me! Ye immortal gods, how
fair the world is!”
“Strange boy!” exclaimed the Roman, interrupting his friend’s rapture.
“You can not stay for ever in this dingy stall.”
“I will not stir from this spot till Klea comes. The boy there shall
fetch me victuals as an old sparrow feeds his young; and if necessary I
will lie here for a week, like the little sardines they preserve in oil
at Alexandria.”
“I hope you will have only a few hours to wait; but I must go, for I am
planning a rare surprise for King Euergetes on his birthday, and must
go to the palace. The festival is already in full swing. Only listen how
they are shouting and calling down by the harbor; I fancy I can hear the
name of Euergetes.”
“Present my compliments to the fat monster! May we meet again
soon--brother-in-law!”