Paolo Veronese: The Family of Darius before Alexander the Great, ca. 1565. The National Gallery, London.

That love might be perfect, Hephaestion, preceding the shadow of Alexander by mere steps inside the failed king’s tent, Darius, meets the shaking hands of Sisygambis, the ailing mother, and the trembling, sulking gaze of Stateira, the dejected wife, and the weeping murmurs of the second Stateira and of Drypetis, the unresisting daughters. The mother pleads mercy, the wife feigns dignity, the daughters kneel in haste, the king has fled the battlefield wreathed in fear and loathing. Someone utters a word amidst a wordless moment: the man whose feet are being worshipped in awe and dread is not Alexander, he who has vanquished an army, a family, a king. Alexander raises his arm and his voice; his arm points to Hephaestion, his voice turns to Sisygambis: You are not in error, woman. He is Alexander, too.


Para que el amor sea perfecto, Hefestión, precediendo por meros pasos a la sombra de Alejandro en el interior de la tumba del caído rey, Darío, se topa con las vacilantes manos de Sisigambis, la sufriente madre, y la temblorosa y sombría mirada de Estateira, la derrumbada esposa, y los sollozantes rumores de la segunda Estateira y de Dripetis, las claudicantes hijas. La madre suplica clemencia, la esposa finge dignidad, las hijas se apresuran a hincarse, el rey ha huído del campo de batalla coronado de miedo y desprecio. Alguien murmura una palabra durante esos instantes mudos: el hombre cuyos pies son adorados con admiración y terror no es Alejandro, el que conquistara a ejército, familia y rey. Alejandro alza su brazo y su voz: su brazo apunta a Hefestión, su voz se vuelca hacia Sisigambis: No te equivocas, mujer. Él también es Alejandro.


Categories: Impurezas

Hadrian Bagration

Hadrian Bagration is a humble and avid reader and perhaps an author. He pleads guilty to a few titles. He is also an enthusiastic but somewhat negligent follower of such intellects as those of the early Sartre, Albert Camus, Harold Bloom, Jorge Luis Borges, the French encyclopaedists, epistemologist Mario Bunge, Richard Dawkins and the insufferable (in today's ludicrous politically correct view) paleontologist Peter Ward. Beyond the above, and besides a vague vital skepticism and abhorrence of the cult of zeal, he is known for being unremarkably collected.

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