CHAPTER IV.
Hadrian had expected Antinous many hours since, and the impatience andvexation which had been long seething in him were reflected plainlyenough in his sternly-bent brow and the threatening fire of his eye.
"Where have you been?" he imperiously asked.
"I could not find you, so I took a boat and went out on the lake."
"That is false."
Antinous did not answer, but merely shrugged his shoulders.
"Alone?" asked the Emperor more gently. "Alone."
"And for what purpose?"
"I was gazing at the stars."
"You!"
"And may I not, for once, tread in your footsteps?"
"Why not indeed? The lights of heaven shine for the foolish as well asfor the wise. Even asses must be born under a good or an evil star. Onedonkey serves a hungry grammarian and feeds on used-up papyrus, whileanother enters the service of Caesar and is fattened up, and finds timeto go star-gazing at night. What a state you are in."
"The boat upset and I fell into the water." Hadrian was startled, andobserving his favorite's tangled hair in which the night wind had driedthe salt water, and his torn chiton, he anxiously exclaimed:
"Go this instant and let Mastor dry you and anoint you. He too cameback with a bruised hand and red eyes. Everything is upside clown thisaccursed evening. You look like a slave that has been hunted by clogs.Drink a few cups of wine and then lie down."
"I obey your orders, great Caesar."
"So formal? The donkey simile vexed you."
"You used always to have a kind word for me."
"Yes, yes, and I shall have them again, I shall have them again. Onlynot to-night--go to bed."
Antinous left him, but the Emperor paced his room, up and down withlong steps, his arms crossed over his breast and his eyes fixed on theground. His superstitious soul had been deeply disturbed by a series ofevil signs which he had not only seen the previous night in the sky, buthad also met on his way to Lochias, and which seemed to be beginning tobe fulfilled already.
He had left the eating house in an evil humor, the bad omens made himanxious, and though on his arrival at home he had done one or two thingswhich he already regretted, this had certainly not been due to anyadverse Daimons but to the brooding gloom of his clouded mind. Eternalcircumstances, it is true, had led to his being witness to an attackmade by the mob on the house of a wealthy Israelite, and it wasattributable to a vexatious accident that at this juncture, he shouldhave met Verus, who had observed and recognized him. Yes, the Spirits ofevil were abroad this day, but his subsequent experiences and deedsupon reaching Lochias, would certainly not have taken place on any morefortunate day, or, to be more exact, if he had been in a calmer frame ofmind; he himself alone was in fault, he alone, and no spiteful accident,nor malicious and tricky Daimon. Hadrian, to be sure, attributed tothese sprites all that he had done, and so considered it irremediable;an excellent way, no doubt, of exonerating oneself from a burdensomeduty, or from repairing some injustice, but conscience is a register inwhich a mysterious hand inexorably enters every one of our deeds, andin which all that we do is ruthlessly called by its true name. We oftensucceed, it is true, in effacing the record for a longer or a shorterperiod, but often, again, the letters on the page shine with an uncannylight, and force the inward eye to see them and to heed them.
On this particular night Hadrian felt himself compelled to read thecatalogue of his actions and among them he found many a sanguinarycrime, many a petty action unworthy of a far meaner soul than he; stillthe record commemorated many duties strictly fulfilled, much honestwork, an unceasing struggle towards high aims, and an unwearied effortto feel his way intellectually, to the most remote and exalted limitspossible to the human mind and comprehension.
In this hour Hadrian thought of none but his evil deeds, and vowed tothe gods--whom he mocked at with his philosophical friends, and to whomhe nevertheless addressed himself whenever he felt the insufficiency ofhis own strength and means--to build a temple here, to offer a sacrificethere, in order to expiate old crimes and divert their malice. Hefelt like a great man must who is threatened with the disfavor of hissuperiors, and who hopes to propitiate them with gifts. The haughtyRoman quailed at the thought of unknown dangers, but he was far fromfeeling the wholesome pangs of repentance.
Hardly an hour since he had forgotten himself and had disgracefullyabused his power over a weaker creature, and now he was vexed at havingbehaved so and not otherwise; but it never entered his head to humiliatehis pride or, by offering some compensation to the offended party,tacitly to confess the injustice he had committed. Often he deeplyfelt his human weakness, but he was quite capable of believing in thesacredness of his imperial person, and this he always found most easywhen he had trodden under foot some one who had been rash enough toinsult him, or not to acknowledge his superiority. And was it not on thecontemners of the gods that their heaviest punishments fell?
To-day the terrestrial Jupiter had again crushed into the earth with histhunderbolts, an overbold mortal, and this time the son of the worthygate-keeper was his victim. The sculptor certainly had been so unluckyas to touch Hadrian in his most sensitive spot, but a cordiallybenevolent feeling is not easily converted into a relentless oppositionif we are not ourselves--as was the case with the Emperor--accustomed tojump from one mood to the other, are not conscious--as he was--of havingit in our power directly to express our good-will or our aversion inaction.
The sculptor's capacities had commanded the Emperor's esteem, his freshand independent nature had at first suited and attracted him, buteven during the walk together through the streets, the young man'suncompromising manner of treating him as an equal had become unpleasingto him. In his workshop he saw in Pollux only the artist, and delightedin his original and dashing powers; but out of it, and among men of acommoner stamp, from whom he was accustomed to meet with deference, theyoung man's speech and demeanor seemed unbecoming, bold, and hard to beendured. In the eating-house the huge eater and drinker, who laughinglypressed him to do his part, so as not to make a present to the landlord,had filled Hadrian with repulsion. And after this, when Hadrian hadreturned to Lochias, out of humor and rendered apprehensive by evilomens, and even then had not found his favorite, he impatiently paced upand down the hall of the Muses and would not deign to offer a greetingto the sculptor, who was noisily occupied behind his screens.
Pollux had passed quite as bad an evening as the Emperor. When, inhis desire to see Arsinoe once more, he penetrated to the door of thesteward's apartment, Keraunus had stopped his way, and sent him abouthis business with insulting words. In the hall of the Muses he hadmet his master, and had had a quarrel with him, for Papias, to whom herepeated his notice to quit, had grown angry, and had desired him thenand there to sort out his own tools, and to return those that belongedto him, his master, and for the future to keep himself as far aspossible from Papias' house, and from the works in progress at Locluas.On this, hard words had passed on both sides, and when Papias had leftthe palace and Pollux went to seek Pontius the architect, in order todiscuss his future plans with him, he learnt that he too had quittedLochias a short time before, and would not return till the followingmorning.
After brief reflection he determined to obey the orders of Papias andto pack his own tools together. Without paying any heed to Hadrian'spresence he began to toss some of the hammers, chisels, and woodenmodelling tools into one box, and others into another, doing it asrecklessly as though he were minded to punish the unconscious tools asadverse creatures who had turned against him.
At last his eye fell on Hadrian's bust of Balbilla. The hideouscaricature at which he had laughed only yesterday, made him angry now,and after gazing at it thoughtfully for a few minutes his blood boiledup furiously, he hastily pulled a lath out of the partition and struckat the monstrosity with such fury that the dry clay flew in pieces, andthe fragments were strewed far and wide about the workshop. The wildnoise behind the sculptor's screen made th
e Emperor pause in his walk tosee what the artist was doing; he looked on at the work of destruction,unobserved by Pollux, and as he looked the blood mounted to his head; heknit his brows in anger, a blue vein in his forehead swelled and stoodout, and ominous lines appeared above his brow. The great master ofstate-craft could more easily have borne to hear himself condemned as aruler than to see his work of art despised. A man who is sure of havingdone some thing great can smile at blame, but he, who is not confidentin himself has reason to dread it, and is easily drawn into hating thecritic who utters it. Hadrian was trembling with fury, he doubled hisfirst as he lifted it in Pollux's face, and going close up to him askedin a threatening tone:
"What do you mean by that?"
The sculptor glanced round at the Emperor and answered, raising hisstick for another blow:
"I am demolishing this caricature for it enrages me."
"Come here," shouted Hadrian, and clutching the girdle which confinedthe artist's chiton, in his strong sinewy hand, he dragged the startledsculptor in front of his Urania wrenched the lath out of his hand,struck the bust of the scarcely-finished statue off the body, exclaimingas he did so, in a voice that mimicked Pollux:
"I am demolishing this bungler's work for it enrages me!"
The artist's arms fell by his side; astonished and infuriated he staredat the destroyer of his handiwork, and cried out:
"Madman! this is enough. One blow more and you will feel the weight ofmy fists."
Hadrian laughed aloud, a cold hard laugh, flung the lath at Pollux'sfeet and said:
"Judgment against judgment--it is only fair."
"Fair?" shrieked Pollux, beside himself.
"Your wretched rubbish, which my squinting apprentice could have done aswell as you, and this figure born in a moment of inspiration! Shameupon you! Once more, if you touch the Urania again I warn you, you shalllearn--"
"Well, what?"
"That in Alexandria grey hairs are only respected so long as theydeserve it."
Hadrian folded his arms, stepped quite close up to Pollux, and said:
"Gently, fellow, if you value your life."
Pollux stepped back before the imposing personage that stood before him,and, as it were scales, fell from his eyes. The marble statue ofthe Emperor in the Caesareum represented the sovereign in this sameattitude. The architect, Claudius Venator, was none other than Hadrian.
The young artist turned pale and said with bowed head, and in low voiceas he turned to go:
"Right is always on the side of the strongest. Let me go. I am nothingbut a poor artist--you are some thing very different. I know you now;you are Caesar."
"I am Caesar," snarled Hadrian, "and if you think more of yourself as anartist than of me, I will show you which of us two is the sparrow, andwhich the eagle."
"You have the power to destroy, and I only desire--"
"The only person here who has a right to desire is myself," cried theEmperor, "and I desire that you shall never enter this palace again, norever come within sight of me so long as I remain here. What to do withyour kith and kin I will consider. Not another word! Away with you, Isay, and thank the gods that I judge the misdeed of a miserable boy moremercifully than you dared to do in judging the work of a greater manthan yourself, though you knew that he had done it in an idle hour witha few hasty touches. Be off, fellow; my slaves will finish destroyingyour image there, for it deserves no better fate, and because--what wasit you said just now? I remember--and because it enrages me."
A bitter laugh rang after the lad as he quitted the hall. At theentrance, which was perfectly dark, he found his master, Papias, whohad not missed a word of what had passed between him and the Emperor. AsPollux went into his mother's house he cried out:
"Oh mother, mother, what a morning, and what an evening. Happiness isonly the threshold to misery."