passed down that river in
fifteen splendid galleys, with the pomp of a triumphal procession. It
was now the month of May, and the banks of the river showed the same
signs of prosperity as had the sides of the road. At Kaidack the emperor
Joseph met the empress, having reached Kherson in advance and gone north
to anticipate her coming. He accompanied her down the stream, looking
with her on the show of prosperity and populousness which delighted her
inexperienced eyes, and smiling covertly at the delusion which
Potemkin's magic had raised, well assured that as soon as she had passed
silence and desertion would succeed these busy scenes. At a new
projected town on the way, of which Catharine had, with much ceremony,
laid the first stone, Joseph was asked to lay the second. He did so,
afterwards saying of the farcical proceeding, "The Empress of Russia and
I have finished a very important business in a single day: she has laid
the first stone of a city, and I have laid the last." He had no doubt
that, when they had gone, the buildings in which they had slept, the
villages which they had seen, the wayside herders and flocks, would
vanish like theatrical scenery, and the country present the dismal
aspect of a deserted stage.

At length the new city was reached, the magical Kherson. Catharine
entered it in grand state, under a noble triumphal arch inscribed in
Greek with the words "The Way to Byzantium." It was a busy city in which
she found herself. The houses were all inhabited; shops, filled with
goods, lined the principal streets; people thronged the sidewalks,
spectators of the entry; luxury of every kind awaited the empress in the
capital which had arisen for her as by the rubbing of Aladdin's ring,
and entertainments of the most lavish character were prepared by the
potent genius to whom all she saw was due. Potemkin hesitated at no
expense. The journey had cost the empire no less than seven millions of
rubles, fourteen thousand of which were expended on the throne built for
the empress in what was named the admiralty of Kherson.

Such was the scenery prepared for one of the most theatrical events the
world has ever witnessed. It cost the empire dearly, but Potemkin's
purpose was achieved. He had charmed the empress by causing the desert
to "blossom like the rose," and after the spectators had passed all sank
again into silence and emptiness. The new empire of Byzantium remained a
dream. Turkey had not been consulted