Cleopatra

by Claude Ferval

Built on the model of the old temples of the gods, this sanctuary, uniting all forms of worship, was the most noted in Egypt. The princely sums with which it was endowed served continually to augment its power, and only the most famous monuments of the Roman Capitol could compare with its mighty structure. One hundred steps led up to the entrance. Its portal was guarded by a line of sphinxes of imposing majesty; and along its sides, from arches of yellow and vermilion, light streamers floated in the wind.

As they approached the entrance the students of the different colleges took their places along the portico, according to their rank. Some stood in the empty spaces between the rows of columns and, thus, little by little, the building was filled, peopled with human forms which, in their immobility, resembled groups of statues.

Suddenly there was a commotion. Everyone turned toward a light which shone above the crowd. A herald announced "The Queen!" Magnificent, surrounded by a glittering guard, on her way, one would have said, to a heavenly kingdom, Cleopatra appeared, borne on a shield. Seeing her thus, so innocent, in a sheath of silver which encircled her as though she were a graven image, with her knees bent, her elbows close to her sides, her eyes raised to the sky, it was not possible to believe the evil tales about her. She was no longer the woman, but the august daughter of kings; a priestess, who, in another moment, would be in the presence of a god. Four slaves waved immense fans of peacocks' feathers above her head, and at her feet, like a cushion, a panther lay.

While the temple slaves attended to the slaughter of the victims, whose warm entrails were smoking on the slope, a young poet-singer, his zither hanging from his shoulder, advanced and, after bowing to the multitude, began chanting the praises of the Queen. "Thy hair is like a sweet-smelling plant. Thy hands are the palms of love. Thy brow is like a moon coming out from behind a cloud. Thine eyes, with their shining lashes, are two summer butterflies. Thy teeth have the brilliancy of a stream, running between two banks bordered with roses and peonies." And after each verse, a chorus of virgins would take up the refrain: "Hail to thee, O resplendent daughter of Amoun-Ra!"

The moment for the burnt-offerings had come. Erect now, her shoulders covered with the mantle of Isis, white as wheat, followed by the priests and the chief dignitaries, Cleopatra stepped over the sill of the temple, and the enormous door, behind which crouched the terrifying watch-dog of granite, with his triple head of wolf, jackal, and lion, was closed. In the farthest corner, behind great columns, covered with hieroglyphics explaining the destiny of the human soul, stood a Serapis of marble and of gold. Ruling deity in whom was combined the antique Kronos, together with the Zeus of the Greeks and the Jupiter of the Latins, Serapis was the national god. He was believed to be omnipotent. It was to him that the Egyptians looked for glory, health, and riches; from him came their faith in the mighty powers of the waters of the Nile. His figure was three times the height of man and serene majesty was written on his features. His beard spread over his knees, abundant and shining; the seal of kings was on his forehead; his hands were extended with a gesture that seemed to embrace the whole world. By a skilful arrangement the light, coming in from above, fell on his enamelled lips, and this single ray produced the effect of a kiss from heaven, and gave his worshippers the illusion that he was speaking.

Before this colossal statue the sacrificial table was spread. The signs of the Zodiac were engraved on its huge circumference. In the centre was burning oil, and side by side with the blood of the victims were precious vases holding wine and wheat, the water of the Nile, and the seven perfumes most agreeable to the god. While the High Priest inclined toward the flame, pouring out the offerings that the fire might devour them, the Queen prostrated herself before the altar. She pleaded, she implored: "O mighty god, all-powerful god, whom the winds obey, be favourable to my prayers. Liberate thy healing waters, let their abundance flow over Egypt and make her fertile. Let no sedition breed in her cities, nor alien enemy come to destroy her troops. May her people be loyal to her and protect her with foot-soldiers armed with arrows, and with horsemen in shining armour."

Absorbed in the mysterious rites in the temple, all hearts were beating furiously. It was the moment when the omens would become visible; and, as though a single soul, a single voice, the multitude united in the prayer of its sovereign. Moved by an unconquerable faith she repeated the words of supplication: "O mighty god, god whom the winds obey, liberate the still waters.'"

The smoke cleared away, the cedar doors of the temple reopened, and the Queen reappeared. She was very pale. Under her sparkling necklaces her bosom was heaving. Her large eyes were gazing far off, beyond earthly things, into that region of prophecy whither her prayer had ascended. What had she seen there? What had she heard? What communication from the oracle did the High Priest have to bring? Three blasts of the trumpet announced that the Queen was about to speak. She came to the edge of the first step, and her voice, sweet as a flute, pronounced these words:

"May the name of Serapis be praised! His mercy is upon us. He promises glory and prosperity to Egypt. On your seed the Nile will spread her blessed waters and will make your wheat to swell!"

A tremendous clamour arose. From the thousands of throats it swelled like the roar of a hurricane. With enthusiasm, with an almost insane gratitude, as though the miracle had already taken place, thanks began to pour forth.