[1]οἷον προσεγέλα τῆ πρύμνη."There, mildly dimpling, ocean's cheekReflects the tints of many a peakCaught by thelaughing tidesthat laveThese Edens of the eastern wave."—Byron.".... ποντίων τὲ κυμάτωνἀνήριθμον γελασμα."—Æsch. P.V. 90."... of ocean's wavesThe multitudinous smile."
[1]οἷον προσεγέλα τῆ πρύμνη.
"There, mildly dimpling, ocean's cheekReflects the tints of many a peakCaught by thelaughing tidesthat laveThese Edens of the eastern wave."—Byron.
".... ποντίων τὲ κυμάτωνἀνήριθμον γελασμα."—Æsch. P.V. 90.
"... of ocean's wavesThe multitudinous smile."
[2]Ωξεῖαι.
[2]Ωξεῖαι.
[3]"Qualis populeâ mœrens Philomela sub umbrâAmissos queritur fœtus; quos durus aratorObservans nido implumes detraxit; at illaFlet noctem, ramoque sedens miserabile carmenIntegrat, et mœstus late loca questibus implet."Virg. G. iv. 511.
[3]
"Qualis populeâ mœrens Philomela sub umbrâAmissos queritur fœtus; quos durus aratorObservans nido implumes detraxit; at illaFlet noctem, ramoque sedens miserabile carmenIntegrat, et mœstus late loca questibus implet."Virg. G. iv. 511.
[4]Έρμαῖ—four-cornered stone pillars ending with a bust of Mercury, and set up in public places.
[4]Έρμαῖ—four-cornered stone pillars ending with a bust of Mercury, and set up in public places.
[5]ἔλαθον σαγηνευθἐντες. For an account of the Persian mode of clearing a conquered country by joining hands and so sweeping the whole face of it, see Herod. vi. 31.
[5]ἔλαθον σαγηνευθἐντες. For an account of the Persian mode of clearing a conquered country by joining hands and so sweeping the whole face of it, see Herod. vi. 31.
[6]".... Simul ac vaga luna decorumProtulit os."—Hor. I S. viii. 21.
[6]
".... Simul ac vaga luna decorumProtulit os."—Hor. I S. viii. 21.
[7]"A precious ring that lightens all the hole;Which like a taper in some monumentDoth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeksAnd shows the ragged entrails of this pit."Titus Andronicus.
[7]
"A precious ring that lightens all the hole;Which like a taper in some monumentDoth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeksAnd shows the ragged entrails of this pit."Titus Andronicus.
[8]Σφενδόνη.
[8]Σφενδόνη.
[9]Aμἐθυστoς is compounded of the private particle α, and μέθυ, wine, or μεθύω, to be drunk.
[9]Aμἐθυστoς is compounded of the private particle α, and μέθυ, wine, or μεθύω, to be drunk.
[10]In Longus, B. iv., there is a curious description of the effect produced upon Daphnis's goats, by the different notes which he plays upon his pipe.
[10]In Longus, B. iv., there is a curious description of the effect produced upon Daphnis's goats, by the different notes which he plays upon his pipe.
[11]ἐμβατήρια.—Literally, airs suitable for a march or an embarkation.
[11]ἐμβατήρια.—Literally, airs suitable for a march or an embarkation.
[12]λόγους eἰς εὐωχίαν ἐρανιζομενός. ἕρανος—a meal to which each contributed his share either in victuals or money.
[12]λόγους eἰς εὐωχίαν ἐρανιζομενός. ἕρανος—a meal to which each contributed his share either in victuals or money.
[13]Nausicles was to assist him in the recovery of Theagenes, whom he regarded in the light of a son.
[13]Nausicles was to assist him in the recovery of Theagenes, whom he regarded in the light of a son.
[14]See beginning of Book V.
[14]See beginning of Book V.
[15]South of Ætolia, the modern Gulf of Patras.
[15]South of Ætolia, the modern Gulf of Patras.
[16]These islands, mentioned before, lie south-west of Acarnania.
[16]These islands, mentioned before, lie south-west of Acarnania.
[17]In Idyll. xxi. of Theocritus, the fisherman's tackle is described—"The basket, rush trap, line, and reedy shaft,Weed-tangled baits, a drag-net with its drops,Hooks, cord"....—Chapman's Tr.
[17]In Idyll. xxi. of Theocritus, the fisherman's tackle is described—
"The basket, rush trap, line, and reedy shaft,Weed-tangled baits, a drag-net with its drops,Hooks, cord"....—Chapman's Tr.
[18]"Κῦμα ίπ'ι κῦμα προσίβαλλεν ὁ δαίμων,Οἷός σε χειμὼν καὶ κακῶν τρικυμία,Ἕπεισ' ἃφυκτος."—Æsch. P. V. 1015.
[18]
"Κῦμα ίπ'ι κῦμα προσίβαλλεν ὁ δαίμων,Οἷός σε χειμὼν καὶ κακῶν τρικυμία,Ἕπεισ' ἃφυκτος."—Æsch. P. V. 1015.
[19]Ulysses.
[19]Ulysses.
[20]A ship had one, but more commonly two rudders. (See Acts xxvii. 40.) In the Caspian Sea, where the old practice not long ago remained in force, a modern traveller was nearly shipwrecked, because the rudders were in the hands of two pilotswho spoke different languages. To obviate such disasters among the ancients, the same steersman held both tillers, if the boat was small. In larger ships the extremities of the helms were joined by a pole, which was moved by one man and kept the rudders always parallel.—Smith's Greek and Rom. Antiq.
[20]A ship had one, but more commonly two rudders. (See Acts xxvii. 40.) In the Caspian Sea, where the old practice not long ago remained in force, a modern traveller was nearly shipwrecked, because the rudders were in the hands of two pilotswho spoke different languages. To obviate such disasters among the ancients, the same steersman held both tillers, if the boat was small. In larger ships the extremities of the helms were joined by a pole, which was moved by one man and kept the rudders always parallel.—Smith's Greek and Rom. Antiq.
[21]ἧν μὲν ἥδε τῆς ἡμέρας ὅτε ἀρότρου βοῦν ἐλeυθερoῖ γηπόνος. Adverbially in Homer, βουλυτόνδε, at eventide.—Il. xvi. 779.
[21]ἧν μὲν ἥδε τῆς ἡμέρας ὅτε ἀρότρου βοῦν ἐλeυθερoῖ γηπόνος. Adverbially in Homer, βουλυτόνδε, at eventide.—Il. xvi. 779.
[22]Raphael has chosen this incident for the subject of a painting.
[22]Raphael has chosen this incident for the subject of a painting.
[23]πᾶν ναυτιλιάς ἐσχεδιάζετο.
[23]πᾶν ναυτιλιάς ἐσχεδιάζετο.
[24]On the duties of the πρῳρεύς and the amount of nautical skill required in the pilot, see Potter's Antiq. ii. 144-146.
[24]On the duties of the πρῳρεύς and the amount of nautical skill required in the pilot, see Potter's Antiq. ii. 144-146.
[25]τρικυμίαις επαλλήλοις ἐλαυνομένων.
[25]τρικυμίαις επαλλήλοις ἐλαυνομένων.
[26]See Il. vi. 289..... "Mantles of all hues, accomplish'd worksOf fair Sidonians wafted o'er the deep."
[26]See Il. vi. 289.
.... "Mantles of all hues, accomplish'd worksOf fair Sidonians wafted o'er the deep."
[27]See Book I.
[27]See Book I.
Calasiris and Cnemon betook themselves to their apartments on the men's side of the house, and composed themselves to rest. The night was quickly past, great part of it having been consumed in the preceding feast, and subsequent narration; but it passed too slowly for their impatience; and almost before day they were up, and presented themselves to Nausicles, urging him to inform them where he thought Theagenes was, and to lead them to him as soon as possible. He was not slow in complying with their request, and they set out under his direction. Chariclea was very earnest to accompany them, but they pressed, and at last obliged, her to remain where she was; Nausicles assuring her that they were not going far, and that they would soon return, and bring Theagenes with them. Here then they left her, struggling between sorrow for their departure, and joy for the promised hope of seeing her lover.
They had scarcely got out of the village, and were proceeding along the banks of the Nile, when they saw a crocodile creeping from the right side of the river to the left, and making his way swiftly down the stream. The rest of the party being used to the sight, regarded it with indifference, although Calasiris secretly thought that it portended some impediment in their expedition. But Cnemon was very much frightened at its appearance, though he could hardly be said to have seen the animal itself, but had rather had a glimpse of the shadow: he was so terrified as almost to run away. Nausicles burst into a laugh. "Cnemon," said Calasiris, "I thought you were apt to be terrified only in the darkness and obscurity of the night; but I see your courage shows itself even in the day-time. It is not only names that affright you,[1]but the commonest and most every-day appearance puts you quite into a trepidation."—"Prithee tell me what god, or what demon is it," said Nausicles, "whose name this valiant Grecian cannot bear?"
"If it were the name of a deity," replied the old man, "there might be something in it; but it is the appellation of a mortal, and that not of a celebrated hero, nor even of a man; but of a weak woman, and, as he says, of a dead one too, at the mention of which he is disordered and trembles. That night in which you returned from the buccaneers, bringing with you my dearest Chariclea, this said name was, somehow or other, mentioned in his hearing: it put him into such an agitation, that he had no sleep all night, nor suffered me to enjoy any; he was half dead with fear, and I had the greatest difficulty in the world to bring him to himself; and were I not afraid of terrifying, or giving him pain, I would now mention the name, that you might laugh the more:"—and immediately he uttered the wordThisbe. But Nausicles did not laugh, as he expected; he became grave and pensive, doubting and pondering why and by reason of what intimacy Cnemon felt so much at the mention of Thisbe.
Cnemon upon this burst out into an immoderate fit of laughter in his turn. "See," said he, "my dear Calasiris, the mighty magic of this name; it is not only a bugbear which disturbs, as you say, all my faculties, but it has the same effect upon Nausicles; with this difference, however, that the certainty of her death inclines me to laughter, when the same news seems to make him sorrowful, who was before so disposed to be merry at the expense of others."—"Spare me," said Nausicles; "you have sufficiently revenged yourself: but I conjure you by the gods of hospitality and friendship—by the kind and sincere reception which you have met with at my house and table—that you will tell me how you became so well acquainted with the name of Thisbe—whether you really have known her, or only pretend to have done so, out of sport, and to vex me?"—"It is now your turn, Cnemon," said Calasiris, "to turn narrator. You have frequently promised to make me acquainted with your condition and adventures, and as often, on some pretext or other, have put it off: you cannot have a better opportunity of doing so than the present: you will oblige both Nausicles and me; and lighten, by your story, the fatigues of our journey."
Cnemon suffered himself to be persuaded, and entered upon his history, relating briefly, what he had before told more at length to Theagenes and Chariclea—That he was an Athenian—that his father was Aristippus, and his stepmother Demæneta—her execrable love, and the snares she laid for him on its disappointment, by the ministry of Thisbe—the particulars of these—his flight from his country, and condemnation as a patricide—his exile at Ægina—his hearing from Charias of the death of Demæneta, betrayed by her own wicked assistant Thisbe—what Anticles related to him of the distress his father fell into; the family of Demæneta combining against him, and persuading the people that he had murdered her—the flight of Thisbe from Athens, with a Naucratian merchant, who was in love with her—his sailing with Anticles to Egypt, in search of Thisbe; in order, if he could find her, to bring her back to Athens, to clear his father, and punish her—the various difficulties and dangers he went through, both by sea and pirates—how, having escaped these, and arrived in Egypt, he was again taken by the pirates—his meeting and connection with Theagenes and Chariclea—the death of Thisbe—and every thing in order, till he came to his meeting with Calasiris and Nausicles, and to those facts and events with which they were acquainted.
Nausicles meanwhile revolved a thousand thoughts in his mind—now he was about to disclose all his transactions with Thisbe, and now inclined to defer it to another opportunity; but his eagerness for speaking had almost got the better of him, when some remains of reserve, and an accident which happened by the way, prevented his unbosoming himself for the present. They had travelled about eight miles, and were near to the village where Mithranes dwelt, when Nausicles meeting an acquaintance, inquired whither he was going in so much haste.
"Do you not know," he replied, "that all my exertions have now but one aim, that of executing the behests of Isias of Chemmis? I labour for her, I supply her with every thing she wants. I wake day and night in her service. I refuse no commission, small or great, which the dear Isias imposes on me, though toil and loss are all I have hitherto gotten for my pains. I am now making what haste I can with this bird which you see, a flamingo[2]of the Nile, carrying it to my mistress, according to her commands."—"What an amiable mistress you have got," said Nausicles, "how light are her commands! how fortunate you are that she has not ordered you to bring her a phœnix, instead of a phœnicopter!"—"She does all these things," said the other, "out of wanton sport to make a jest of me—but may I ask where you are bending your course?"
When he had learned that they were going to Mithranes—"You are on a sleeveless errand," said he, "for Mithranes is not now here; he has this evening led out his troops on an expedition against the buccaneers of Bessus; for Thyamis, their leader, has made an incursion into his territories, and taken from him one of his captives, a Grecian youth, whom he was preparing to send to Oroondates, at Memphis; and from thence, as I suppose, as a present to the Great King. But I must be gone to Isias, (who is now, perhaps, looking for me with eager eyes), lest my delay offend my charmer; she is but too ready to seize a pretence, however slight, to flout and quarrel with me." While these words were yet in his mouth, he hurried off, leaving his hearers confused and stupified at his tidings.
Nausicles was the first who broke silence. He tried to encourage his companions; and told them, that they ought not to lose heart, and entirely lay aside their undertaking, on account of this short and temporary disappointment. That now, indeed, it was necessary to return to Chemmis, as well to consult upon what they had farther to do, as to make preparations for a longer expedition, which must be undertaken in search of Theagenes, whether he was with the buccaneers or anywhere else; but that he had good hopes of finding and recovering him: for he conceived that it was not without some kind interposition of Providence, that they had so fortunately met with an acquaintance whose intelligence put them into the right track, and plainly pointed out to them the pirate-settlement, as the first place where they were to seek their friend.
They assented, without difficulty, to his proposal; what they had heard giving them a glimmering hope, and Cnemon privately assuring Calasiris that he was sure that Thyamis would watch over the safety of Theagenes. They determined therefore to return to Chemmis, where, being arrived, they found Chariclea at the house door, with outstretched neck and eager eyes, looking on every side for their appearance. As soon as she saw them, and no Theagenes with them, fetching a deep and melancholy sigh—"Are you alone!" she cried, "Father? Do you return even as you set out?—Theagenes then is no more! Tell me, by the gods I beseech you, if you have any tidings for me! and whatever they may be, do not increase my misery by delaying them. There is a degree of humanity in discovering quickly unfortunate intelligence: the soul collects at once all its powers of resistance, and the shock is sooner over."
Cnemon hastening to repress her rising anguish—"How ready are you," said he, "to foretell calamities! You generally, however, prove a false prophetess, and so far you do well—Theagenes is not only living, but, I trust in the gods, safe;"—and he told her, briefly, in what condition, and where he was. "Ah, Cnemon!" said Calasiris, "one would think, from what you say, that you had never been in love! Do not you know that they who really love are apprehensive of the slightest trifles, and believe only their own eyes, when the situation of their lovers is concerned? Absence always fills their languishing souls with fear and torment; they imagine that nothing but the most invincible necessity can ever make them separate from each other. Forgive Chariclea, therefore, who labours under the extremity of this passion, and let us enter the house, and consider what we have to do;"—and taking Chariclea's hand, and soothing her with paternal tenderness, he led her in.
Nausicles, willing to solace his friends after their fatigues, and having, besides, a farther private end of his own, prepared a more than usually choice entertainment for them alone and his daughter, whom he commanded to dress and adorn herself with uncommon bravery and splendour. Towards the end of the feast he thus addressed them:
"I call the gods to witness, my friends, that your company is so agreeable to me, that I should be happy if you would spend the remainder of your lives here, and enjoy, in common with me, my wealth and pleasures. I wish to consider you so much more in the light of friends than guests, that I shall think nothing too much which I can bestow upon, or partake with you. I am ready also to give you every advice and assistance in my power, towards the recovery of your lost relation, as long as I can stay with you; but you know that I am a merchant, and that it is by this profession that I procure and increase my substance. And now, as the west winds have set in favourably, have opened the sea for navigation, and promise a prosperous season, my affairs call loudly upon me to sail into Greece. I am very desirous, therefore, of hearing what you propose to do, that I may endeavour, as much as possible, to accommodate my schemes to yours." Here he paused; and Calasiris, after a short pause, answered him:—"Ο Nausicles! may your voyage be fortunate!—may Hermes, the patron of gain, and Neptune the preserver, protect and accompany your expedition—may they lead you through smooth seas, may they make every haven safe—every city easy of access to you, and every inhabitant favourable to your undertakings—these are the sincere and grateful wishes of those whom you have received, and now, at their own request, dismiss after observing the exact law of friendship and hospitality. Though it is grievous and painful to us to leave you, and to depart from your house, which with so much generosity you have taught us in a manner to consider as our own; yet it is incumbent upon, and unavoidable for us, to apply ourselves immediately to the search and recovery of our lost friend. This is the fixed purpose of myself and Chariclea: let Cnemon speak for himself—whether he had rather gratify us, by accompanying us in our wanderings, or has any other project in his mind." Cnemon seemed now desirous of answering in his turn; and, preparing to speak, fetched, on a sudden, a deep sigh, and tears for some time stopped his utterance: at length collecting and composing himself as well as he could, he said—
"Ο fortune, fickle and uncertain goddess! how dost thou shower down misfortunes upon us miserable mortals! but upon none have thy persecutions been exerted with more unremitting severity than upon me. You deprived me of my family and father's house; banished me from my country and friends—after a long interval of calamities which I pass over, shipwrecked me upon the coast of Egypt; delivered me over to pirates; shewed me, at last, a glimmering of comfort, by making me acquainted with men, unfortunate, indeed, like myself, but at the same time Greeks, and such as I hoped to spend the remainder of my life with; but now you deprive me of this consolation, where shall I turn myself? What ought I to do? Shall I desert Chariclea, who has not yet recovered Theagenes? That would be infamous and abominable? Or shall I follow and attend her in her search? If there were a probable prospect of finding him, the hope of success would sweeten, and authorize my toils; but if that expectation is distant and uncertain, and the undertaking discouraging and difficult, who can tell where my wanderings will end? May I not, then, hope that you, and the deities of friendship, will forgive me, if I venture to mention a return to my family and country? especially since the gods offer me so unlooked-for an opportunity, in the voyage which Nausicles proposes making into Greece. Ought I to let slip so favourable an occasion? since, should any thing have happened to my father, his house will be left desolate, and his name and estate without a successor: and though I may be destined to spend the remainder of my days in poverty, yet it will be desirable and right in me, to preserve in my own person the remnant of my race. But, Ο Chariclea! I am most anxious to excuse myself to you, and to beg your forgiveness, which I beseech you to grant me. I will follow you as far as the quarters of the buccaneers; and will beg the favour of Nausicles, however pressed he may be in time, to wait for me so long. If perchance I should be so fortunate as to deliver you there into the hands of Theagenes, I shall then appear to have been a faithful guardian of the precious deposit which has fallen under my care, and shall set out on my own expedition with lucky omens, and a quiet conscience. But if (which the gods forbid!) I should be deceived in this hope, I shall still, I trust, appear excusable, in that I have gone so far, and have not left you alone, but in the hands of the excellent Calasiris, your father, and best preserver."
Chariclea meanwhile conjecturing, from many circumstances, that Cnemon was in love with the daughter of Nausicles (for one who is herself enamoured most easily detects the like affections in another), and seeing, from the behaviour and expressions of Nausicles, that he was very desirous for the alliance, that he had long been working at it, and endeavouring to allure Cnemon into it; and thinking it, besides, not perfectly proper, or free from suspicion, that he should any longer be the companion of her journey—"My friend," said she, "let us entreat you to act as is most agreeable to yourself: receive our best and most grateful thanks for all the favours you have bestowed upon us, and the good offices you have performed. For the future we have not so much need of your cares and attention, nor is there now any necessity that you should endanger your own fortunes, by waiting any longer upon ours. Go, then, under happy auspices, to Athens; may you there again find your family, and recover your estate. It would be blameable on you to neglect the opportunity which Nausicles offers you: I and Calasiris will struggle with the cross accidents which pursue us, till we may perhaps, at last, find some end to our wanderings. If we meet with no assistance from men, the gods, we trust, will not forsake us."
"May the immortals," said Nausicles, "accompany Chariclea, according to her prayers, and assist her in every thing! and may she soon recover her friend and parents: her generous spirit and excellent understanding well deserve success. Do you, Cnemon, regret no longer that you do not bring Thisbe back again with you to Athens, especially when you may accuse me of having carried her off clandestinely from thence; for the merchant of Naucratium, the lover of Thisbe, was no other than myself; nor have you any reason to apprehend distress or poverty. If your inclinations coincide with mine, you may not only recover your country and family, under my guidance, but enrich yourself to the extent of any reasonable desires. If you are willing to marry, I offer you my daughter, Nausiclea, with an ample portion, judging that I have received enough in that I have learned your family and nation."
Cnemon, seeing what had long been the object of his wishes and prayers, now unexpectedly offered him beyond his hopes, eagerly replied, "I take your offer with great joy, and gratitude;" and Nausicles immediately delivered his daughter into his outstretched hand, and betrothed her to him; and ordering those who were present to raise the nuptial song, he himself opened the dance, making the entertainment furnish forth a sudden wedding.
All the company were engaged in this joyous ceremony, the more pleasant, because unlooked for: the song resounded through the apartments, and during the whole night, the house shone with the marriage torches. But Chariclea, retiring from the rest, betook herself to her solitary chamber; where, having secured the door, and risking as she thought no intrusion, she surrendered herself to all the stings of frenzy. She let her dishevelled tresses fall upon her shoulders, tore and discomposed her garments, and thus broke out:—"Aye! let me too, in the manner he likes best, lead the dance before the overruling evil genius; let lamentations be my songs, and tears my libations: let darkness surround me, and obscure night preside over what I am about;" and with this she extinguished her torch against the ground. "What a dainty nuptial chamber has he provided me! He claims me for himself, and keeps me solitary. Cnemon marries and joins in the dance; Theagenes wanders a captive, perhaps, and in bonds; and provided he lives even that were well. Nausiclea is betrothed and separated from me, who, till this night, partook of my bed; and I am left alone and destitute. Heaven knows that I grudge them not their good fortune; I wish them all felicity; but I repine that I have no share of it myself. The tragedy of my misfortunes has been prolonged beyond example. But what avails it to spend my time in womanish lamentations! let the measure of my calamities be filled up, since such is the will of heaven. But, Ο Theagenes, my sweet and only care, if you are dead, and the dreadful tidings (which may the gods forbid!) should ever wound my ear, I swear instantly to join you in the shades below. Meanwhile let me offer to your spirit (if it has left the lovely body) these funeral rites" (and immediately she plucked off handfuls of her hair and laid them on the bed): "Let me pour a libation to you out of those eyes which you hold so dear;" and with this she bedewed her couch with her tears. "But, if you are alive and safe, appear to me, my life, in a dream; and repose with me, but preserve, even then, the respect you have sworn to your betrothed." So saying, she flung herself on the bed, embraced and kissed it; till sobs and groans, fatigue and grief, gradually overwhelmed with a cloud all her reasoning faculties; and she sunk, at last, into a deep sleep, which continued till late the following morning.
Calasiris, wondering that she did not appear as usual, went up to her chamber to inquire after her; where, knocking loudly at the door, and calling her repeatedly by her name, he at length awakened her. She, alarmed at this sudden call, and confused at the disorder both of her person and apartment; yet, went to the door, unbolted it, and let him in. He, when he saw her hair dishevelled, her garments torn, her eyes restless, and breathing still too much of that passion with which they had been inflamed before she dropped asleep, began to suspect something of the cause of this agitation. Leading her, therefore, again to the bed, placing her upon it, and helping her to compose her dress a little—"Why, Chariclea," says he, "do you indulge these transports? Why do you grieve thus beyond measure, and abjectly sink under the calamities which oppress you? I am now at a loss to discover that nobleness of mind, and chastened spirit, with which you have hitherto borne your ills. Have done with these unbecoming extravagancies—consider that you are a mortal creature;[3]a thing unstable, subject to the blasts of good and evil fortune. Why abandon yourself to despair, perhaps, on the eve of a change of fortune? Preserve yourself, my child; if not for your own sake, at least for Theagenes, who lives only in and for you."
Chariclea blushed at his chiding, and at the circumstances in which he had surprised her. She was for some time silent. At last she said—"You have reason, I own, to blame me, Father: but, perhaps, you will not think me without excuse. My love for Theagenes is no new or vulgar passion, but pure and chaste; it is directed towards one who, though not my wedded husband, is my betrothed: I am grieved and disappointed at not seeing him return with you; and am in a thousand doubts and fears about his life and safety."
"Be comforted then," replied Calasiris, "trust in the oracles of the gods, and believe, that under their guidance and protection, he is both safe and well. You should remember what we heard yesterday—that he was taken by Thyamis, as he was being carried to Memphis; and, if he is in his power, you may be satisfied that he is safe; for there was a friendship between them even before. It is our business now to make what haste we can to the town of Bessa, in order to seek, you for your lover, and I for my son; for you have already heard that Thyamis stands in that relation to me."
Chariclea appeared very pensive at this.—"If indeed," said she, "this is your son, and not some other Thyamis, our affairs are in great jeopardy." Calasiris wondering at, and inquiring the cause of, her apprehensions,—"You know," she continued, "that I was for some time in the power of the pirates: there these unhappy features of mine inspired Thyamis with love. I fear lest, if in our inquiry we should meet with him, he should immediately recognize me, and compel me to a marriage which, on various pretences, I before with difficulty eluded."—"I trust," said the old man, "that the sight of me will inspire him with reverence and respect, and that a father's eye will repress and restrain his intemperate desires: however, there is no reason why we should not endeavour, by some artifice, to guard against what you fear; and you seem expert at finding out excuses and delays, against those who show themselves too pressing."
Chariclea, recovering her spirits a little at this pleasantry—"I do not know whether you are in jest or earnest:" said she, "but I can relate to you the contrivance of Theagenes and myself, when we attempted to make our escape from the pirates' island; and, if you approve of it, we may make use now of the same stratagem; and may it be more fortunate than it was then! We determined to change our garments, to metamorphose ourselves into beggars, and in this squalid garb to pass through the towns and villages. Let us now then, if you please, put on the appearance of wretchedness: we shall be less subject to inquiry and observation. The greatest security is found in the lowest estate. Poverty is an object of pity, not of envy; and we shall more easily procure our daily bread: for, in a foreign land, every thing is sold dear to strangers; but is cheaply given to the wretched."
Calasiris approved of the project, and besought her to be ready as soon as possible to set out. They acquainted Nausicles and Cnemon with their intentions, and in three days were prepared to enter on their expedition. They took no beast of burden with them, though they might have had one, nor suffered any one to attend them. Nausicles and Cnemon, and all their family, accompanied them as far as they would permit it. Nausiclea, too, having by earnest entreaties obtained her father's permission, set out with her friend; her love for Chariclea making her break through that reserve and retirement which young women are expected to preserve during the first days of their nuptials. They accompanied them about half a mile; and then, saluting each other, and mingling tears and every good wish with their embraces, they took their leave. Cnemon repeatedly besought them to pardon those nuptial engagements which prevented his going with them; and promised that, whenever he had an opportunity, he would endeavour to find them out.
At length they separated. Nausicles, and his train, took the road to Chemmis. Chariclea and Calasiris began the transformation which they had meditated, and clothed themselves in tattered garments, which they had got ready. She stained her cheeks with a compound of soot and dust,[4]and threw an old torn veil negligently over her face. She carried a bag under her arm, which had the appearance of being a receptacle for scraps and broken victuals, but contained, in reality, the sacred vestments she had brought from Delphi—her garlands, and the precious tokens which her mother had exposed with her.
Calasiris carried her quiver, wrapt up in a piece of old leather, as a burden, across his shoulders; and, loosening the string of her bow, made use of it as a walking-stick. If any one approached, he leant heavily upon it, stooping more than his years actually obliged him to do; and, limping with one leg, suffered himself frequently to be led by Chariclea.
When the metamorphosis was completed they could not help smiling at each other's appearance, and, in the midst of their grief, a few jokes upon it escaped them; and beseeching the deities who persecuted them to cease at length from their anger, they made what haste they could to the town of Bessa, where they hoped to find Theagenes and Thyamis. But in this they were disappointed; for arriving near Bessa at sun-setting, they saw the ground strewed with a considerable number of dead bodies, newly slain; most of them were Persians, whom they knew by their habits, but some were the natives of the place. They conjectured this to have been the work of war, but were at a loss to know who had been the combatants. At length, while they were searching and examining the corpses, dreading lest they might find a friend among them (for strong affection is unreasonably apprehensive on the slightest grounds), they saw an old woman, hanging over the body of one of the natives, and loud in her lamentations. They resolved therefore to endeavour to get what intelligence they could from her; and, accosting her, they first tried to soothe her vehement affliction; and then, when she became a little calmer, Calasiris, in the Egyptian tongue, ventured to ask her what was the cause of the slaughter they saw before them, and who it was whom she so lamented. She answered, briefly, that she was mourning for her son; that she came on purpose to the field of battle that some one of the combatants, if any should return, might deprive her of life, now become a burden to her; that meanwhile, amid tears and lamentations, she was endeavouring, as well as she could, to perform funeral rites for her child. The cause of the engagement, says she, was as follows:—"A foreign youth, of remarkable beauty and stature, was proceeding under the direction of Mithranes, the Persian Commandant, in his way to Memphis, where he was to be presented to Oroondates, the Viceroy of the Great King. Mithranes had taken him captive, and thought he could not offer a more agreeable gift. The inhabitants of our town pretending, whether truly or not I cannot say, that they had some knowledge of this young man, came suddenly upon the soldiers of Mithranes, and rescued him. Mithranes, when he heard of it, was violently enraged, and two days ago led his troops against the town. My countrymen are used to war; they lead a piratical life, and despise death when gain or revenge are in view. Many are the widows and orphans they have made, and many mothers have they deprived of their children, as I, unhappy woman, am at this day. As soon, therefore, as they had certain intelligence of the Persians' expedition, they left the city, chose a proper place for an ambuscade, and posting, in concealment, a select body of troops where they knew the enemy must pass, as soon as they appeared, attacked them resolutely in front, while the rest of their companions rushed suddenly, with a great shout, from their ambush, fell upon their flank, and soon put them to the rout. Mithranes fell among the first, and most of his troops with him; for they were so surrounded, that there was little opportunity for flight. A few of our people were slain, and among those few my son, transfixed, as you see, with a Persian dart; and now I, unhappy that I am, am bewailing his loss; and, perhaps, am still reserved to lament that of the only son I have now left, who marched yesterday with the army against the city of Memphis."
Calasiris inquired into the cause of this expedition. The old woman told him what she had heard from her son: That the inhabitants of Bessa, after they had slaughtered the officer and soldiers of the Great King, saw plainly that there was no room for excuse or pardon; that Oroondates, as soon as the intelligence reached Memphis, would immediately set out with his army,[5]surround, besiege, and utterly destroy their town; that therefore they had resolved to follow up one bold deed by a bolder; to anticipate the preparations of the Viceroy; to march, in short, without delay to Memphis, where, if they could arrive unexpectedly, they might possibly surprise and seize his person, if he were in the city; or if he were gone, as was reported, upon an expedition into Ethiopia, they might more easily make themselves masters of a place which was drained of its troops, and so might for some time ward off their danger; and could also reinstate their captain, Thyamis, in the priesthood, of which he had been unjustly deprived by his younger brother. But if they should fail in the bold attempt, they would have the advantage of dying in the field, like men, and escape falling into the hands of the Persians, and being exposed to their insults and tortures. "But, as for you," continued the old woman, "where are you going?"—"Into the town," said Calasiris.—"It is not safe for you," returned she, "at this late hour, and unknown as you are, to go among strangers."—"But if you will receive us into your house," replied the other, "we shall think ourselves safe."—"I cannot receive you just at this time," said she, "for I must now perform some nocturnal sacrifices. But if you can endure it—and indeed you must do so, retire to some distance from the slain, and endeavour to pass the night as well as you can in the plain; in the morning I will gladly receive and entertain you as my guests." When she had said this, Calasiris took Chariclea, and shortly explained to her what had passed between them; and going to a rising ground, not very far from the field of battle, he there reclined himself, putting the quiver under his head.
Chariclea sat down on her wallet—the moon just rising, and beginning to illuminate all around with her silver light; for it was the third day from the full. Calasiris, old, and fatigued with his journey, dropped asleep; but Chariclea's cares kept her waking, and made her spectatress of an impious and accursed scene, but not an unusual one, among the Egyptians. For[6]now the old woman, supposing herself at liberty, and unobserved, dug a sort of pit, and lighted a fire of sticks which she had collected together, on each side of it. Between the two fires she placed the dead body of her son, and taking an earthen cup from a neighbouring tripod, she poured first honey into the trench, then milk, and then wine. She next worked up a kind of paste of dough into something of the similitude of a man, and crowning it with laurel and fennel, cast that too into the ditch. Then snatching up a sword, with many frantic gestures and barbarous invocations to the moon, in an unknown tongue, she wounded herself in the arm, and dipping a branch of laurel in her blood, sprinkled it over the fire. And after many other wild and mystic ceremonies, she stooped down at length to the corpse of her son, whispered something in its ear, and, by the power of her spells, raised and forced it to stand upright.
Chariclea, who had observed the former part of this ceremony, not without apprehension, was now seized with affright and horror, and awakened Calasiris, that he too might be a spectator of what was being done. They, being themselves shrouded in darkness, observed in security what passed by the light of the fires, and were near enough too to hear what was said; the old woman now questioning the dead body in a loud voice,—"Whether its brother, her son, would return in safety?"—it answered nothing; but nodding its head by a doubtful signal, gave its mother room to hope, and then, on a sudden, fell down again upon its face. She turned the body on its back, repeated her question, and whispered, as it should seem, still stronger charms in its ear; and brandishing her sword now over the fire, and now over the trench, raised the corpse again, and putting the same interrogation to it, urged it to answer her, not by nods and signs only, but in actual and distinct words.
Here Chariclea addressed Calasiris, and besought him to approach, and ask something about Theagenes; but he refused altogether; declaring, that it was much against his inclination that he became a compulsory spectator of so impious a scene; for it did not become a priest to be present at, much less to take a part in, such a deed.—"Our divinations," said he, "are made by means of lawful sacrifices, and pure prayers; not by profane ceremonies, and unhallowed conjurations of dead carcases, such as our wayward fate has now obliged us to be witnesses of." But while he was proceeding, the body, with a deep and hollow voice, began to speak, as if its words were uttered from the inmost recesses of a winding cave. "I spared you at first, Ο mother, although you were transgressing the laws of nature, disregarding the decrees of the fates, and disturbing by your enchantments, what ought to remain at rest. There is, even among the departed, a reverence for parents; but since, as far as in you lies, you destroy that reverence, and persist in pushing your wicked incantations to the utmost—since you are not content with raising up a dead body, and forcing it to make signs, but will proceed to compel it to speak; regardless of the care you owe to your son's remains, preventing his shade from mixing with those who are gone before him, and mindful only of your own private convenience and curiosity—hear what I piously avoided disclosing to you before:
"Your son shall return no more; and you yourself shall perish by the sword, and shortly conclude your course by a violent death, worthy of the execrable practices in which you have spent your life; you who are not now alone, as you suppose yourself; but are performing your horrid rites, worthy of being buried in the deepest silence and darkness, in the sight of others, and betraying the secrets of the dead in the hearing of witnesses. One of them is a priest; and his wisdom indeed is such, that he may perhaps see the propriety of concealing what he has seen. He is dear to the gods; and if he hastens his journey, he may prevent his sons from engaging singly with each other in a bloody and deadly fight, and compose their differences. But what is infinitely worse, a maiden has heard and seen everything which has taken place. She is deeply in love, and is wandering through the world in search of her lover, whom, after many toils and dangers, she shall at last obtain, and, in a remote corner of the earth, pass with him a splendid and royal life."
Having said this, the body fell again prone on the ground. The old woman concluding that the strangers were the spectators meant, ran furiously, in all the disorder of her dress, and sword in hand, to seek for them among the dead, where she imagined they had concealed themselves; determined to destroy, if she could find them, the witnesses of her abominable incantations. But while searching incautiously among the carcases, and blinded by her fury, she stumbled, and fell headlong upon a fragment of a spear stuck upright in the earth, which, piercing through her body, soon put an end to her wicked life, and quickly fulfilled the fatal prophecy of her son.