[1]See Book V.
[1]See Book V.
[2]A bird, the brains and tongue of which were highly esteemed by Roman epicures. Rich men's slaves used to take lessons in carving this, and other choice dishes, practising upon wooden models."Sumine cum magno lepus, atque aper et pygargus,Et Scythicæ volucres, etphœnicopterusingens,Et Gætulus oryx, hebeti lautissima ferro,Cæditur, et totâ sonat ulmea cœna Suburrâ."Juv. XI. 138.Those who are curious in the matter of good eating among the ancients, may read with advantage the Feast of Trimalcio, in Petronius Arbiter, and the concluding chorus in the Ecclesiazusæ of Aristophanes.
[2]A bird, the brains and tongue of which were highly esteemed by Roman epicures. Rich men's slaves used to take lessons in carving this, and other choice dishes, practising upon wooden models.
"Sumine cum magno lepus, atque aper et pygargus,Et Scythicæ volucres, etphœnicopterusingens,Et Gætulus oryx, hebeti lautissima ferro,Cæditur, et totâ sonat ulmea cœna Suburrâ."Juv. XI. 138.
Those who are curious in the matter of good eating among the ancients, may read with advantage the Feast of Trimalcio, in Petronius Arbiter, and the concluding chorus in the Ecclesiazusæ of Aristophanes.
[3]"... ye men, ye brittle things, mere images of clay,Ye flitting leaves, ye shadowy shapes, ye creatures of a day,Poor, wingless wretched mortals ye, like nothing but a dream."Aristoph. Birds, 676. Cary's Tr.
[3]
"... ye men, ye brittle things, mere images of clay,Ye flitting leaves, ye shadowy shapes, ye creatures of a day,Poor, wingless wretched mortals ye, like nothing but a dream."Aristoph. Birds, 676. Cary's Tr.
[4]".... Whiles I may 'scapeI will preserve myself, and am bethoughtTo take the basest and the poorest shapeThat ever penury, in contempt of man,Brought near to beast. My face I'll grime with filth;Blanket my loins; elfe all my hair in knots;And with presented nakedness, out-faceThe winds, and persecutions of the sky."—King Lear.
[4]
".... Whiles I may 'scapeI will preserve myself, and am bethoughtTo take the basest and the poorest shapeThat ever penury, in contempt of man,Brought near to beast. My face I'll grime with filth;Blanket my loins; elfe all my hair in knots;And with presented nakedness, out-faceThe winds, and persecutions of the sky."—King Lear.
[5]Σαγηνεύσοντας τὴν κώμην. See Book I.
[5]Σαγηνεύσοντας τὴν κώμην. See Book I.
[6]See Lucan, Book vi., 667-761, where Erichtho brings the dead to life in order to obtain a response as to the future success of Pompey.
[6]See Lucan, Book vi., 667-761, where Erichtho brings the dead to life in order to obtain a response as to the future success of Pompey.
On the other hand, Calasiris and his fair companion, having been in such danger, in order to be free from their present terrors, and hastening, on account of the prophecy they had heard, continued, with diligence, their journey to Memphis. They arrived at the city at the very time when those events were being fulfilled which had been foretold in the incantation scene.[1]The citizens of Memphis had just time to shut their gates, before the arrival of Thyamis and his robber band; a soldier from the army of Mithranes, who had escaped from the battle of Bessa having foreseen, and foretold, the attempt.
Thyamis having ordered his men to encamp under the walls, rested them after the fatigues of their march; and determined forthwith to besiege the city. They in the town who, surprised at first, expected the attack of a numerous army, when they saw from their walls the small number of their assailants, put themselves in motion, and collecting the few troops, archers and cavalry, left for the defence of the place, and arming the citizens as best they could, were preparing to issue out of the gates, and attack their enemy in the field. But they were restrained by a man of some years and authority among them, who said, that although the Viceroy Oroondates was absent in the Ethiopian war, it would be improper for them to take any step without the knowledge and direction of his wife, Arsace; and that the soldiers who were left, would engage much more heartily in the cause, if fighting under her orders.
The multitude joined with him in opinion, and followed him to the palace which the viceroy inhabited in the absence of the sovereign. Arsace[2]was beautiful, and tall; expert in business; haughty because of her birth, as being the sister of the Great King; extremely blameable, however, in her conduct, and given up to dissolute pleasure. She had, in a great measure, been the cause of the exile of Thyamis: for when Calasiris, on account of the oracle which he had received relative to his children, had withdrawn himself privately from Memphis,[3]and on his disappearing, was thought to have perished; Thyamis, as his eldest son, was called to the dignity of the priesthood, and performed his initiatory sacrifice in public. Arsace, as she entered the temple of Isis, encountered this blooming and graceful youth, dressed on the occasion with more than usual splendour. She cast wanton glances at him, and by her gestures gave plain intimation of her passion.[4]He, naturally modest, and virtuously brought up, did not notice this, and had no suspicion of her meaning, nay, intent on the duties of his office, probably attributed her conduct to some quite different cause. But his brother Petosiris, who had viewed with jealous eyes his exaltation to the priesthood, and had observed the behaviour of Arsace towards him, considered how he might make use of her irregular desires, as a means of laying a snare for him whom he envied.
He went privately to Oroondates, discovered to him his wife's inclinations, and basely and falsely affirmed that Thyamis complied with them. Oroondates was easily persuaded of the truth of this intelligence, from his previous suspicions; but took no notice of it to her, being unable clearly to convict her; and dreading and respecting the royal race she sprang from, thought it best to conceal his real opinion. He did not, however, cease uttering threats of death against Thyamis, until he drove him into banishment; when Petosiris was appointed to the priesthood in his room.
These events happened some years before the time of which I am at present speaking. But now the multitude surrounded the palace of Arsace, informed her of the approach of a hostile army (of which however she was aware) and besought her to give orders to the soldiers to march out with them to attack the enemy.
She told them that she thought she ought not to comply with their request, till she had made herself a little acquainted with the number of the enemy—who they were—from whence they came—and what was the cause of their expedition. That for that purpose she thought it would be proper for her first to ascend the walls, to take a survey from thence; and then having collected more troops, to determine, upon consideration, what was possible and expedient to be done.
The people acquiesced in what she said, and advanced at once towards the wall; where, by her command, they erected upon the ramparts a tent, adorned with purple and gold-embroidered tapestry; and she, royally attired, placed herself under it, on a lofty throne, having around her, her guards in arms, glittering with gold; and holding up a herald's wand,[5]the symbol of peace, invited the chiefs of the enemy to a conference under the walls.
Thyamis and Theagenes advanced before the rest, and presented themselves under the ramparts, in complete armour, their heads only uncovered: and the herald made proclamation:—
"Arsace, wife of the chief viceroy, and sister of the Great King, desires to know who you are—what are your demands—and why you presume to make incursions into the territory of Memphis?"—They replied, that their followers were men of Bessa.—Thyamis, moreover, explained who he was: how being unjustly deprived of the priesthood of Memphis by the suspicions of Oroondates, and the arts of his brother Petosiris, he was come to claim it again at the head of these bands—that if they would restore him to his office, he asked no more; and his followers would withdraw in peace, without injuring any one; but if they refused this just demand, he must endeavour to do himself justice by force and arms—that it became Arsace to revenge herself upon Petosiris for his wicked calumnies against her; by which he had infused into the mind of her husband suspicions against her honour; and had driven him, his brother, into exile.
These words made a great impression upon the citizens: they well recollected Thyamis again; and now knowing the cause of his unexpected flight, of which they were ignorant before, they were very much disposed to believe that what he now alleged was truth. But Arsace was more disturbed than any one, and distracted by a tempest of different cares and thoughts. She was inflamed with anger against Petosiris, and calling to mind the past, resolved how she might best revenge herself upon him. She looked sometimes at Thyamis, and then again at Theagenes: and was alternately drawn by her desires towards both. Her old inclination to the former revived; towards the latter a new and stronger flame, hurried her away: so that her emotion was very visible to all the by-standers. After some struggle, however, recovering herself, as if from convulsive seizure, she said, "What madness has engaged the inhabitants of Bessa in this expedition? and you, beautiful and graceful youths of noble birth, why should you expose yourselves to manifest destruction for a band of marauders, who, if they were to come to a battle, would not be able to sustain the first shock? for the troops of the Great King are not so reduced as not to have left a sufficient force in the city to surround and overwhelm all of you, although the viceroy be absent in a foreign war. But since the pretext of this expedition is of a private nature, why should the people at large be sufferers in a quarrel in which they have no concern? Rather let the parties determine their dispute between themselves, and commit their cause to the justice and judgment of the gods. Let, then, the inhabitants both of Memphis and the men of Bessa remain at peace; nor causelessly wage war against each other. Let those who contend for the priesthood engage in single combat, and be the holy dignity the prize of the conqueror."
Arsace was heard by the inhabitants of Memphis with pleasure, and her proposal was received with their unanimous applause. They suspected the wickedness and treachery of Petosiris, and were pleased with the prospect of transferring to his single person the sudden danger which threatened the whole community. But the bands of Bessa did not so readily agree; they were at first very averse to expose their leader to peril on their behalf, until Thyamis at length persuaded them to consent; representing to them the weakness and unskilfulness of Petosoris, whereas he should engage in the combat with every possible advantage on his side. This reflection probably influenced Arsace in proposing the single combat. She hoped to obtain by it her real aim, revenge upon Petosiris, exposing him to fight with one so much his superior in skill and courage.
The preparations for the encounter were now made with all celerity; Thyamis, with the utmost alacrity, hastening to put on what still he wanted to complete his armour. Theagenes encouraging him, securely buckled on his arms, and placed, lastly, a helmet on his head, flashing with gold, and with a lofty crest.
On the other hand, Petosiris protested against the combat. He was obliged by violence to put on his arms; and, by the command of Arsace, was thrust out of the gates. Thyamis seeing him—"Do you observe, Theagenes," said he, "how Petosiris shakes with fear?"—"Yes," replied the other; "but how (resumed he) will you use the victory which seems ready to your hands; for it is no common foe whom you are going to encounter, but a brother?"—"You say well;" he returned, "and have touched the very subject of my thoughts. I intend to conquer him with the assistance of the gods, but not to kill him. Far be it from me to suffer myself to be so far transported by anger, resentment, or ambition, as to pursue revenge for past injuries, or purchase future honours at the expense of a brother's blood!"
"You speak nobly," said Theagenes; "and as one who feels the force of natural ties; but have you any commands for me?"—"The combat I am going to engage in," said Thyamis, "is a mere trifle, fit to be despised; but since Fortune sometimes sports with mortals, and strange accidents happen, I will just say, that if I prove victor, you shall accompany me into the city, live with me, and partake equally with myself, of everything which my fortune and station can afford. But if, contrary to my expectation, I should be vanquished, you shall command the bands of Bessa, with whom you are in great favour, and shall lead for a time the life of a freebooter, till the Deity shall place you in more prosperous circumstances." Having said this, they embraced each other with great affection; and Theagenes sat down to observe the issue of the fight.
In this situation he unconsciously afforded Arsace an opportunity of feeding herself upon his presence, as she surveyed his person, and gratified at least her eyes.[6]And now Thyamis advanced towards Petosiris; but Petosiris could not sustain his approach, and on his first movement turned about towards the gate, and attempted to re-enter the city, but in vain; for those who were stationed at the entrance drove him back; and those who were upon the walls gave notice throughout the whole circuit of the place, that he should nowhere be admitted. He fled then as fast as he could around the city, and at length threw away his arms. Thyamis pursued him; and Theagenes followed, solicitous for his friend, and desirous of seeing what would happen. He took no arms with him, lest it might appear that he came to assist Thyamis; but, placing his spear and shield where he had before sat, and leaving them for Arsace to contemplate in his stead, he attended closely on the steps of the brothers.
Petosiris was not yet taken, nor was he far in advance; he was every minute in danger of being reached, and had only so much the advantage of the course, as it was reasonable to suppose an unarmed man would have over one who was in armour. In this manner they twice circled the walls; but the third time Thyamis approached near enough to threaten the back of his brother with his spear. He called on him to stop and turn, if he would avoid receiving a wound; the multitude meanwhile upon the walls, as in a theatre, being spectators and judges of the contest.
Just at this instant, either the interposition of the Deity, or the caprice of Fortune, who rules the affairs of men, introduced an episode upon the stage, and supplied, as if out of rivalry, a beginning for another drama. Calasiris, who had submitted to a voluntary exile, and had supported innumerable perils, both by sea and land, in order to avoid the dreadful sight, was brought to the spot at that very hour, and compelled by inevitable fate to become a witness of the encounter of his sons, as the oracle had long ago foretold he should be. As soon as he arrived near enough to see what was passing under the walls of Memphis—when he recognised his children, recollected the prophecy, and saw the arms of one of them raised against the other, he hastened with greater speed than his age seemed to admit of, (doing violence to his weight of years), to prevent the dreaded issue of the combat.
Having nearly reached them, he exclaimed with all his might—"My children! what mean you? what madness is this!" They, intent on what they were themselves engaged in, did not recognise their father, covered as he was with beggar's weeds, but took him for some wandering vagrant, who was probably beside himself. Those who were on the walls, wondered at his so rashly exposing himself between the combatants. Others laughed at what they thought his mad and fruitless efforts. When the good old man perceived that he was not known under these mean garments, he cast aside the tatters under which he was disguised; let his sacred locks flow down upon his shoulders, threw away his scrip and staff, and stood before them with a reverend and priest-like aspect; gently inclining his body, and stretching out his hands as a suppliant: his tears flowed apace, while he exclaimed—"O my sons, I am Calasiris—I am your father—stay your hands—repress your fatal rage—receive, acknowledge, and reverence your parent."
Almost ready to swoon, the young men slackened in their course, and cast themselves before his feet, hardly believing what they saw; but when they were convinced that it was really Calasiris, and no phantom, they embraced his knees, and clung to him, their minds labouring with various and conflicting feelings. They were rejoiced at seeing their father unexpectedly safe—they were ashamed and hurt at the circumstances in which he had found them—they were confused and solicitous at the uncertainty of what was to follow.
The spectators from the city gazed with wonder at what was passing, and observed it in silence, without interfering. They were, in a manner, astounded with ignorance and surprise, and stood like figures on a painter's canvas, rivetted upon the scene before them, when lo! a new actress made her appearance on the stage. Chariclea followed close after Calasiris. The eye of a lover is quick as lightning in recognising the object of its passion—a single gesture, the fold of a garment, seen behind, or at a distance, is sufficient to confirm its conjectures. When she knew Theagenes afar off, transported at the long-wished-for sight, she ran frantickly towards him, and, falling on his neck, embraced him closely, breathing out her passion in inarticulate murmurs.
He, when he saw a squalid face, disguised, and industriously discoloured, her tattered garments, and vile appearance, repulsed and threw her from him with disgust, as some common beggar; and when she still persisted, and hindered his seeing Calasiris and his children, he smote her on the face. She softly said to him—"O Pythias, have you then forgotten the torch?" He, startled as at the sudden stroke of an arrow, recognized the token which had been agreed upon between them; and, looking at the countenance of Chariclea, which broke on him like the sun from behind a cloud, rushed into her embrace. All those upon the walls, including Arsace herself, who swelled with displeasure and already viewed Chariclea with jealous eyes, were overcome with wonder, as at some scenic exhibition.
The unnatural warfare between the brothers was now ended; the tragedy which threatened blood, had passed into a comedy. The father, who had seen them armed against each other, and had nearly been a spectator of the wounds of one of them, became the instrument of peace.[7]He who was unable to avoid the fated spectacle of his sons' hostilities, was fortunate enough to rule the issue of what fate had ordered.
They recovered their father after a ten years' exile; and they hastened to crown and invest him again with the ensigns of that dignity, which had nearly been the cause of a bloody contest between them. But amid all these successes the love scene of the drama triumphed—Theagenes and Chariclea, blooming in youth and beauty, and sparkling with pleasure at having recovered one another, attracted the eyes of every beholder. Nearly the whole city poured out through the gates, and a multitude of every age and sex hurried into the plain. The young men surrounded Theagenes; those in the prime of life, and who had formerly known him, crowded round Thyamis; the maidens who already indulged in dreams of wedlock followed Chariclea; the old men and priests attended upon and congratuled Calasiris:—thus a kind of sacred procession was formed upon the instant.
Thyamis dismissed the men of Bessa with much gratitude, and many thanks for their ready assistance. He promised by the next full moon to send them a hundred oxen, a thousand sheep, and ten drachmas each; and then, placing his neck within the embrace of the old man, he supported on one side the tottering steps of his weary father, whom fatigue, surprise, and joy had well nigh exhausted. Petosiris on his side did the same: and thus they led him, with lighted torches, and the applause and congratulations of the surrounding multitude, to the temple of Isis; pipes and sacred flutes attending the procession, and stimulating the spirits of the young to activity in the holy dance. Neither was Arsace herself absent from the ceremony, for with guards, attendants, and much pomp, she proceeded to the temple of Isis, where she offered gold and precious stones, under pretence of setting an example to the city, but having eyes for Theagenes alone, and gazing upon him with more eagerness than did all the others; yet the pleasure she received was not unmixed. Theagenes held Chariclea by the hand, and for her he removed the surrounding crowd, and the keen stings of jealousy sunk deep into the breast of Arsace.
But Calasiris, when he arrived at the innermost part of the temple, threw himself on his face, and continued so long prostrate and motionless at the feet of the sacred image, that he was near expiring under emotion. The bystanders gently raised and set him on his feet; and when with difficulty, and by degrees, he came to himself, he poured out a libation to the goddess, and, in the midst of vows and prayers, took the sacred diadem of the priesthood from his own head, and placed it on that of his son Thyamis; saying to the spectators—"That he felt himself old, and saw his end approaching—that his eldest son was his lawful successor in the office—and that he possessed the needful vigour, both of mind and body, for exercising the functions of it."
The multitude testified, by their acclamations, their approbation of what he said; and he retired with his sons, and Theagenes, to those apartments of the temple which are set apart for the high-priest. The crowd separated to their several habitations; and Arsace at length departed, unwillingly, and often turning back, under pretence of greater respect to the goddess; at last, however she did depart, casting back her eyes as long as possible upon Theagenes.
As soon as she arrived at her palace, she hurried to her chamber, and, throwing herself upon the bed, in the habit she had on, lay there a long time speechless. She was a woman ever inclined to sensual passion; and was now inflamed above measure by the beauties and grace of Theagenes, which excelled any she had ever beheld. She continued restless and agitated all night, turning from one side to the other, fetching deep and frequent sighs; now rising up, and again falling back on her couch; now tearing off her clothes, and then again throwing herself upon her bed; calling in her maids without cause, and dismissing them without orders.[8]In short, her unrestrained love would certainly have driven her into frenzy, had not an old crone, Cybele by name, her bedchamber woman, well acquainted with her secrets, and who had ministered to her amours, hurried into the chamber.
Nothing had escaped her notice, and she now came to add fuel to the flame; thus addressing her:—"What ails you, my dear mistress? What new passion tortures you? Whose countenance has raised such a flame in my nursling's soul? Is there any one foolish or insolent enough to overlook or contemn advances from you? Can any mortal see your charms unmoved, and not esteem your favours as a most supreme felicity? Conceal nothing from me, my sweet child. He must be made of adamant, indeed, whom my arts cannot soften. Only tell me your wishes, and I will answer for the success of them. You have more than once made trial of my skill and fidelity." With these and such like insinuating persuasions, and falling at the feet of Arsace, she entreated her to disclose the cause of her sufferings and agitations. The princess at last, composing herself a little, said—
"Good nurse! I have received a deeper wound than I have ever yet felt; and though I have frequently, on similar occasions, successfully experienced your abilities, I doubt whether they can avail me now. The war which threatened our walls yesterday,[9]has ended without bloodshed, and has settled into peace; but it has been the cause of raising a more cruel war within my bosom, and of inflicting a deep wound, not on any part of my body, but on my very soul, by offering to my view, in a luckless hour, that foreign youth who ran near Thyamis during the single combat. You must know whom I mean, for his beauty shone so transcendently among them all, as to be conspicuous to the rudest and most insensible to love, much more to one of your matured experience. Wherefore my dearest nurse, now that you know my wound, employ all your skill to heal it; call up every art, work with every spell and will which years have taught you, if you would have your mistress survive; for it is in vain for me to think of living, if I do not enjoy this young man."
"I believe I know the youth of whom you speak," replied the old woman; "his chest and shoulders were broad; his neck, straight and noble; his stature, raised above his fellows; and he outshone, in short, every one around him:—his eyes sparkling with animation, yet their fire tempered with sweetness; his beautiful locks clustered on his shoulders; and the first down of youth appeared upon his cheek. An outlandish wench, not without beauty, but of uncommon impudence, ran suddenly up to him, embraced him, and hung upon his neck.—Is not this the man you mean?"
"It is indeed," replied Arsace; "I well remember the last circumstance you mention; and that strolling hussy, whose[10]home-spun made-up charms have nothing more in them than common, but are, alas! much more fortunate than mine, since they have obtained for her such a lover."
The old woman smiled at this, and said,—"Be of good cheer, my child; the stranger just now, perhaps, thinks his present mistress handsome; but if I can make him possessor of your beauties he will find himself to have exchanged brass for gold,[11]and will look with disdain upon that conceited and saucy strumpet."—"Only do this, my dearest Cybele, and you will cure, at once, two dreadful distempers—love and jealousy; you will free me from one, and satisfy the other."—"Be it my care," replied the nurse, "to bring this about; do you, in the meantime, compose yourself; take a little rest; do not despair before the trial, but cherish soothing hope." Having said this, she took up the lamp, and, shutting the door of the chamber, went away.
Soon after sunrise, taking one of the eunuchs of the palace with her, and ordering a maid to follow her with cakes[12]and other requisites for sacrifice, she hastened to the temple of Isis. Upon arriving at the entrance, she said—she came to offer a sacrifice for her mistress Arsace, who had been disturbed by portentous dreams, and wished to propitiate the goddess. One of the vergers opposed, and sent her away, telling her—that the temple was overwhelmed with sorrow—that Calasiris, returned from his long exile, had feasted with his friend the evening before, unbending his mind with unusual cheerfulness and mirth:—after the entertainment he made a libation, and poured out many prayers to the goddess—he told his sons that they would not see him much longer—and earnestly recommended to their protection the young Greeks who came with him; begging them to have the tenderest care of, and assist them in everything:—he then retired to rest; and whether excess of joy had relaxed his nerves and exhausted his spirits more than his old and worn-out frame could bear, or whether he had asked, and obtained, this favour of the gods, towards cock-crowing he was found to have expired, by his sons, who, alarmed at his presages, had watched over him all night. "And now," continued he, "we have sent into the city, to assemble together the rest of the priestly caste, that we may celebrate his funeral rites according to the custom of our country. You must therefore retire; for it is not lawful for any one, except the priests, to enter the temple, much less to sacrifice, for at least seven days."
"What then will become of the Grecian strangers during this interval?" said Cybele.—"Thyamis," he replied, "our new high-priest, has ordered apartments to be fitted up for them, beyond its precincts; and they are even now complying with our custom, by quitting the temple, and during this melancholy space of time, will lodge without."
The old woman, thinking this an admirable occasion to spread her nets and prepare her snares, said, "Good verger, now is the time to be of service to the strangers, and to oblige Arsace, sister of the Great King. You know how fond she is of Greeks, and how ready to show hospitality to foreigners; let these young people know, that with the knowledge, and by the consent of Thyamis, apartments are prepared for them in our palace."
The verger, suspecting nothing of Cybele's designs, imagined that he was doing a very good office for the strangers if he could get them received into the Viceroy's palace; that he should also oblige those who asked this of him, and hurt nobody. He sought therefore Theagenes and Chariclea. He found them drowned in tears, and overwhelmed with sorrow. "You do not act," said he, "conformably to the principles of your country or religion in lamenting so deeply the departure of a holy man, who, besides, foretold it to you, and forbade you to grieve at it. Reason and the divine word should rather encourage you to attend him, mentally, with rejoicing and congratulation as resting from his labours, and having exchanged this troublesome state for a better. On your own account, however, I can excuse your giving way, at first, to grief, having lost your father, your protector, and chief support; but you must not despair; Thyamis succeeds not only to his father's dignity, but to his affections towards you. He has manifested the greatest regard for you. His first thoughts have been for your accommodation. He has been able to procure a retreat for you, so splendid, as not only foreigners in low estate like you, but the greatest of the inhabitants, would envy. Follow then this woman," pointing to Cybele—"consider her as your mother, and accept the hospitality to which she will introduce you."
Theagenes and Chariclea did as they were directed. Grief had so overwhelmed their faculties, that they hardly knew what they were about; and in their present forlorn state were willing to fly to any refuge. But could they have foreseen the calamities which awaited them in the house they were about to enter, they would have shrunk back. Fortune, whose sport they were, seemed now to promise them a short space for rest, and a prospect of joy, only to plunge them deeper in misfortunes. They went voluntary prisoners; and young, strangers, and unsuspecting, deceived by the fair show of hospitality, they delivered themselves up to their enemy. Thus subject is a wandering life to the cloud of error, and thus easily is the unhappy traveller deluded and imposed upon.
The lovers, when they arrived at the viceregal palace, and saw its magnificent vestibules (far more splendid than any private house), the guards, and array of attendants and courtiers, were surprised and disturbed, observing the habitation to be very much beyond what was suitable to the present condition of their fortunes. However, they followed Cybele, who exhorted and encouraged them—called them her friends and children, and bid them form the most pleasing expectations for their future. At length, when she had brought them to her own apartment, which was remote and private, she caused them to sit down, and thus addressed them:
"My children, I am acquainted with the cause of your present sorrow; and that you lament, with great reason, the death of the high priest, Calasiris, who was in the place of a father to you; but it is proper for you now to tell me who you are, and from whence you come. So far I know, that you are Greeks; and, as I judge from your appearance, of a good family; for a countenance so ingenuous, so graceful and engaging an air, bespeak a noble race. But from what country and city of Greece you come, and by what chance you have wandered hither, I wish to know; and it will be for your interest to acquaint me, that I may inform my mistress Arsace, the sister of the Great King, and wife of the most powerful of the viceroys, Oroondates. She is hospitable, refined, and a lover of the Greeks. When she has had some previous information about you, you will appear before her with less embarrassment, and more honour. And whatever you disclose, will not be to an entire stranger, for I also am a Greek by nation. I am a native of Lesbos. I was brought here a captive; but I find my life in captivity pleasanter than any I could have hoped to pass at home, for I enjoy the entire confidence of my mistress; she sees only with my eyes, and hears with my ears; but I make use of the credit I have with her to introduce only worthy and honourable persons to her acquaintance."
Theagenes, comparing in her mind what Cybele now said, with the behaviour of Arsace the day before; recollecting how intently she had fixed her eyes upon him, and calling to memory her wanton signs and glances,[13]foreboded no good to himself from what was to follow: he prepared, however, to say something in answer to Cybele, when Chariclea whispered in his ear—"Remember that I am yoursisterin what you are going to say." He, taking the hint, began—
"You know already, Mother! that we are Greeks—this young woman is my sister—our parents were carried off by pirates—we set out in search of them, and ourselves met with worse fortunes, falling into the hands of cruel men, who robbed us of our all, which was considerable, and were, with difficulty, persuaded to spare our lives. Some pitying deity brought us acquainted with the hero Calasiris (now beatified): under his guidance we arrived here, flattering ourselves that we should spend the remainder of our lives under his protection; but now we are as you see, left alone, and desolate; bereft of our own parents, and of him who promised to supply the place of them. This is our present situation. To you we return our best thanks for your good offices and hospitality; and you would greatly enhance the favour by suffering us to live retired, and by ourselves; deferring, for some time at least, the favour you hinted at, that of introducing us to Arsace. Strangers, wanderers, and unfortunate as we are, we are very unfit to appear in her splendid court. Acquaintance and intercourse are best suited for those who are of equal rank." Cybele could hardly restrain herself at this intelligence. She betrayed, by her countenance, evident marks of the joy she felt at hearing that Chariclea was the sister of Theagenes, concluding that she would now be no obstacle to the amorous designs of her mistress.
"Fair youth," said she, "you will have different sentiments of Arsace when you are acquainted with her. She condescends, and accommodates herself to every kind of fortune. She has a particular pleasure in comforting and assisting those who have met with unworthy treatment. Though she is by birth a Persian, in disposition she is a Greek. She delights in the company and conversation of those who, like yourselves, are lately come from Greece. She greatly affects both the Grecian ways and manners: be of good cheer then; you will not fail to receive every attention and honour which a man can wish for, and your sister will be her companion and favourite. But now tell me your names?" Having heard them, she ran to Arsace, ordering them to wait her return, and giving directions to her portress (an old woman like herself,) not to suffer any one to enter the apartment, nor to permit those who were inside to leave it.
"But," said the other, "what if your son Achæmenes should return; he went out just before your departure to the temple, in order to get some application to his eyes, which are still very troublesome to him?"—"Neither must he enter," replied she; "make fast the doors, and tell him that I am gone away, and have taken the key with me."
The portress did as she was directed; and Cybele was no sooner departed than the unhappy lovers could no longer restrain their bitter thoughts and lamentations. Almost in the same instant he cried out "Ο Chariclea!"—She, "Ο Theagenes!" They proceeded to deplore their misfortunes in the same frame of mind and nearly in the same words. They mingled embraces with their complaints, and kisses with their tears. The remembrance of Calasiris drove them at last into audible grief; into cries and sobs; Chariclea particularly, who had known him longer—who had experienced more of his attention, benevolence, and affection. "Ο Calasiris!" she cried out, as well as her sobs would let her, "for I can no longer call you by the sweet name of father; the evil genius who persecutes me, has on all sides deprived me of that endearing appellation. My real father I have never known. I betrayed, alas! and deserted him who adopted me;[14]and have lost him who received, preserved, comforted, and instructed me; and the custom of the priests does not permit me to pay the last tribute of tears over his dear remains. Yet, Ο my preserver (and I will once more call you father), here at least, while I may, I will pour out a libation to you with my tears, and give you offerings from my hair." So saying, she plucked handfuls from her beauteous tresses. Theagenes caught her hands, and besought her to forbear.
She, however proceeded in tragic strain[15]—"Why do I continue to live, deprived of such a hope? Calasiris is gone!—the support of my wanderings—my leader in a foreign country, and only guide to my native one—he who could lead me to the knowledge of my parents—our comfort in adversity, our defender from misfortune, our strength, and stay, is lost; and has left us, a miserable pair, ignorant and forlorn, in a foreign land. For want of guidance, it is impossible for us to continue our journey. That grave, bland, wise, and of a truth,hoary,[16]soul is fled, and will not see the event of its labours on our behalf."
While she was going on thus dolefully, and Theagenes, though he felt deeply for himself, was attempting to compose her, and to repress the violent expressions of her grief, Achæmenes returned; and finding the doors fast, inquired of the old portress the reason. She told him, that it was by his mother's order. While he was wondering what could be her motive, he heard Chariclea lamenting within; and stooping down, and looking through the crevices of the door, he could easily see what passed in the chamber. Again he asked the old woman who those were whom he saw within. She told him—"She knew no more of them, than that they were a youth and maiden, foreigners, as she guessed, whom Cybele had not long before brought with her."
Again he stooped down, and took a more careful survey of them. Chariclea was entirely unknown to him. He admired her beauty, and figured to himself what it must be when not obscured by dejection, and overwhelmed with grief; and his admiration began to lead him insensibly into love. As for Theagenes, he had some distant and obscure recollection of having seen him before. While he was gazing on one, and then trying to recall the other to his mind, Cybele returned. She had told Arsace everything she had done, relative to the young pair. She congratulated her on her good fortune, which had effected without trouble what she could else hardly have hoped to obtain by a thousand schemes and contrivances; which had lodged her lover under her own roof, and afforded her the unrestrained and unsuspected liberty of seeing, and being seen by him.
With this discourse she stimulated her passion to such a degree, that she could scarcely prevent her hastening to an immediate interview with Theagenes, by suggesting that it should not take place while as yet her face was pale, and her eyes swelled, from the distraction in which she had passed the preceding night. She advised her to compose herself for that day, and stay till she had recovered her former beauty. She arranged with her how she was to treat and manage her guests; and left her full of hopes and flattering expectations. Then returning to her apartment, and coming upon her son employed as he was about the door, she asked him what he was so curiously prying into.
"I am examining the strangers within," said he; "who are they? from whence do they come?"—"It is not permitted you to know," she replied; "nay, I advise you to conceal what you have already discovered of them; and to avoid their company as much as possible, for such is my mistress's pleasure." The young man, easily persuaded by his mother, retired; comprehending that Theagenes was reserved for the private gratification of Arsace, and saying to himself as he went away—"Is not this the man whom I received from the Commandant Mithranes, to carry to Oroondates, that he might be sent to the Great King?—Was he not taken away from me by Thyamis, and the men of Bessa, when I narrowly hazarded my life, and was almost the only one of the party who escaped?—It surely is so, if I can believe my eyes, which are now better, and serve me nearly as well as ever. Besides, I heard that Thyamis returned here yesterday, and, after a single combat with his brother, recovered the priesthood. This is undoubtedly the man I mean: for the present, however, I will conceal my knowledge of him, and observe in silence my mistress's intentions with regard to these young people."—Thus he muttered to himself.
Cybele hastened to her guests, and detected some traces of the sorrows which had them employed in her absence; for though, at the noise she made in opening the doors, they endeavoured to compose their dress and looks and manner as well as they were able, yet they could not conceal from the penetrating old woman that they had been agitated and in tears.
"My dear children," she cried out, "why do I see this ill-timed grief, when you ought to rejoice, and congratulate yourselves upon your good fortune? Arsace manifests the kindest disposition towards you; she will permit you to come into her presence to-morrow, and, in the mean time, has ordered you to be received and treated with every attention and regard. Dry then these unseasonable and childish tears, clear your countenances, and compose and conform yourselves in everything, according to the pleasure of your great benefactress."—"The remembrance of Calasiris," replied Theagenes, "and the loss we have sustained in being so soon deprived of his friendly attentions, called forth our tears."—"This is foolish," said the old woman; "why are you so affected at so common and trifling an event? Calasiris was but an adopted father, and, by the course of nature, could not last long; whereas you are now in favour with one who will shower upon you rank, riches, pleasures, everything which your age (now that you are in the bloom of youth) can enjoy, or your warmest wishes hope for. Look on Arsace as your good genius—as your goddess Fortune—and fall down before her! Only be ruled by me in what manner you are are to approach her, and comport yourselves when she admits you to an interview; conform yourselves to her pleasure, and obey her orders; for she is young, a princess, proud also of her beauty, and will not bear to have her will disputed, or her commands disregarded."[17]
Theagenes made no answer, his mind misgiving him that matters of an unworthy and unwelcome nature were being hinted at. In the meantime some eunuchs arrived, bringing with them, in golden dishes, delicacies which remained from the royal table, which were in the highest degree sumptuous and choice.[18]After saying that their mistress sends them out of honour to the strangers, and having placed them upon the board, they departed. The young people, at the suggestion of Cybele, and that they might not seem to despise the favour of the princess, just tasted what was set before them: and the like honour was repeated to them in the evening as well as on other days. Early the next morning the same eunuchs again appeared, and thus addressed Theagenes:
"Most enviable among men! you are sent for by my mistress: she has ordered us to introduce you to her presence—an honour and happiness which falls to the lot of very few." He paused a little: at length he arose, with a very unwilling air: and asked,—"If he alone were sent for, and not his sister also?"—"He only, at present," they replied: "his sister should have a private interview another time; now several of the Persian nobles were with Arsace: and besides, it was the custom that men and women should be separately received and admitted to an audience." Theagenes, stooping, whispered to Chariclea:—"All is not right; this is most suspicious."—She softly advised him, not at first to contradict Arsace, but to feign a willingness to comply with everything which was desired of him.
He then followed his conductors who officiously instructed him in what manner he should address and converse with the princess; and what ceremonies and obeisances were usual and necessary in appearing before her: but he answered nothing. At length they arrived in her presence: they found her sitting on a lofty throne—her dress gorgeous with gold and purple—her tiara and necklace sparkling with the most costly gems—and her whole person set off with all the appliances of art—her guards standing around her, and some of the principal nobles and magistrates sitting on each side. Theagenes was neither dazzled nor confounded by all this splendour: he forgot, in a moment, the simulated complaisance which had been recommended to him by Chariclea: rather did he feel his pride rebel at sight of the Persian pomp: neither bending the knee, nor prostrating himself, but with an erect countenance[19]—"Hail," he said, "Ο royal Arsace!" They in the presence were indignant, and a murmur of disapprobation ran through the circle: every one blamed the daring rudeness of Theagenes, who presumed to address the princess without the usual prostration. But she, smiling, said—
"Forgive a foreigner, unaccustomed to forms; and, above all, a Greek, infected with the national contempt towards Persians." And then she raised the tiara from her head, to the astonishment, and manifest dislike, of those about her; for this is what the viceroys do when they return the salute of those who pay them homage. "Be of good cheer, stranger," said she, by an interpreter (for though she understood Greek she did not speak it); "if you desire anything, scruple not to acquaint me, nor doubt to obtain your wish:" and then making a signal to her eunuchs, she dismissed him, and he was ceremoniously re-conducted, with a train of guards, to his apartments.
Achæmenes having now had a nearer view of him, recollected him well—wondered at, yet suspected the cause of the honours which were paid him, but kept the silence which was recommended to him by his mother. Arsace proceeded to receive her nobles at an entertainment, apparently out of respect to them, but really to celebrate her own joy at having had an interview with Theagenes. To him she sent not only portions of the viands set before her, as usual, but carpets and embroidered tapestry, the work of Tyrian and Lydian skill. She sent likewise two beautiful slaves to wait upon them—a maid to Chariclea, and a boy to Theagenes, both from Ionia, and in the bloom of youth.
She was urgent with Cybele to lose no time, but to bring about, as soon as possible, what she had so much at heart: for her passion was now too strong for her endurance. Cybele, accordingly, was to relax none of her endeavours, but was to circumvent Theagenes with all her arts. She did not openly explain the wishes of her mistress, but gave him to guess at them by hints and circumlocutions. She magnified her good-will towards him—took every occasion to extol the beauties of her person, as well those which appeared to every beholder as those which her attire kept concealed: she commended her graceful manners and amiable disposition, and assured him that a brave and handsome youth was certain of finding favour with her. All this while she endeavoured in what she said to sound his temper, whether it were amorous and easily inflamed.
Theagenes thanked her for her good inclinations towards the Greeks, and professed himself obliged by the peculiar kindness and benevolence with which she had treated him. But all her innuendoes, relating to other matters, he passed over, and appeared as though he did not understand them. This was a vast annoyance to the old beldame, and her heart began almost to fail her; for she had penetration enough to see that Theagenes understood very well the end she aimed at, but was averse to, and determined to repel, all her overtures. She knew that Arsace could not brook a much longer delay. She had already experienced the violence of her temper, which was now inflamed by the ardour of her present passion. She was daily demanding the fulfilment of her promise, which Cybele put off on various pretences; sometimes saying, that the youth's inclinations towards her were chilled by his timidity—at others, feigning that some indisposition had attacked him. At length, when nearly a week had ineffectually elapsed, and the princess had admitted Chariclea to more than one interview; when out of regard to her pretended brother, she had treated her with the greatest kindness and respect; Cybele was at length obliged to speak out more plainly to Theagenes, and make an unvarnished declaration of her mistress's love to him.
She blamed his backwardness, and promised that his compliance should be followed by the most splendid rewards. "Why," said she, "are you so averse to love? Is it not strange that one of your age should overlook the advances of a woman like Arsace—young, and beautiful as yourself—and should not esteem her favours as so much treasure-trove,[20]especially when you may indulge your inclinations without the smallest apprehension of danger—her husband being at a distance, and her nurse the confidante of her secrets, and entirely devoted to her service, being here, ready to manage and conceal your interviews? There are no obstacles in your way. You have neither a wife nor a betrothed; although in such circumstances, even these relations have been overlooked by many men of sense, who have considered that they should not really hurt their families, but should gain wealth and pleasure to themselves." She began to hint, at last, that there might be danger in his refusal. "Women," says she, "tender-hearted and ardent in their desires, are enraged at a repulse, and seldom fail to revenge themselves upon those who overlook their advances.—Reflect, moreover, that my mistress is a Persian, of the royal family, and has ample means in her hands of rewarding those whom she favours, and punishing those who she thinks have injured her. You are a stranger, destitute, and with no one to defend you. Spare yourself danger, and spare Arsace a disappointment: she is worthy of some regard from you, who has shown and feels such intensity of passion for you: beware of a loving woman's anger, and dread that revenge which follows neglected love.[21]I have known more than one repent of his coldness.—These grey hairs have had longer experience in love affairs than you, yet have I never seen any one so unimpressible and harsh as you are."
Addressing herself then to Chariclea (for, urged by necessity, she ventured to hold this discourse before her), "Do you, my child," says she, "join your exhortations to mine; endeavour to bend this brother of yours, to whom I know not what name to give. If you succeed, you shall find the advantage great to yourself; you will not lose his love and you will gain more honour; riches will shower down upon you, and a splendid match will await you. These are enviable circumstances to any the chiefest of the natives; how much more to foreigners who are in poverty!" Chariclea, with a bitter smile, replied—
"It were to be wished that the breast of the most excellent lady, Arsace, had felt no such passion; or that, having felt it, she had had fortitude sufficient to bear and to repress it. But if the weakness of her nature has sunk under the force of love, I would counsel my brother no longer to refuse responding to it, if it may be done with any degree of security—if it may be possible to avoid the dangers which I see impending from the Viceroy's wrath, should he become acquainted with the dishonourable affair which is going on."
At these words Cybele sprang forwards, and, embracing and kissing Chariclea, "How I love you, my dear child;" she exclaimed, "for the compassion you shew for the sufferings of one of your own sex, and your solicitude for the safety of your brother. But here you may be perfectly at ease—the very sun shall know nothing of what passes." "Cease for the present," replied Theagenes seriously, "and give me time for consideration."
Cybele upon this went out, and—"Ο Theagenes!" said Chariclea, "the evil genius who persecutes us has given us a specious appearance of good fortune, with which there is really intermixed more of evil; but since things have so turned out, it is a great part of wisdom to draw some good, if possible, from each untoward accident. Whether you are determined to comply with the proposal which has been made to you, it is not for me to say. Perhaps, if our preservation depended upon your compliance, I might reconcile myself to it; but if your spirit revolts at the complaisance which is expected from you, feign at least that you consent, and feed with promises the barbaric woman's passion. By these means you will prevent her from immediately determining any thing harshly against us: lead her on by hope, which will soften her mind, and hinder her anger from breaking out: thus we shall gain time, and in the interval some happy accident, or some propitious deity, may deliver us from the perplexities with which we are surrounded. But beware, my dear Theagenes, that by dwelling in thought upon the matter you do not fall into the sin in deed."
Theagenes, smiling, replied,—"No misfortunes, I see—no embarrassments can cure a woman of the innate disease of jealousy: but be comforted, I am incapable of even feigning what you advise. In my mind, it is alike unbecoming to do or to say an unworthy thing; and there will be one advantage in driving Arsace to despair—that she will give us no farther trouble on this subject; and whatever else I am destined to suffer, my bent of mind and my bitter experience have but too well prepared me to bear."—Chariclea having said, "I fear you are bringing ruin upon our heads,"—held her peace.
While this conversation employed the lovers, Cybele went to Arsace, and encouraged her to hope for a favourable issue to her desires, for that Theagenes had intimated as much, she returned to her own apartments. She said no more that evening; but having in the night earnestly besought Chariclea, who shared her bed, to co-operate with her, in the morning she again attacked Theagenes, and inquired what he had resolved upon; when he uttered a plain downright refusal, and absolutely forbad her expecting any complaisance from him of the sort she wished. She returned disappointed and sorrowful to her mistress; who, as soon as she was made acquainted with the stern refusal of Theagenes, ordering the old woman to be ejected headlong out of the palace, entered into her chamber, and, throwing herself upon the bed, began to tear her hair, and beat her breast.—Cybele was returning home in disgrace, when her son Achæmenes met her, and, seeing her in tears, asked—"if any misfortune had happened to her?—Or has our mistress," said he, "received any bad news?—Has any calamity befallen the army?—Has Oroondates been defeated by the Ethiopians?"
He was running on in this manner with his questions, when his mother stopped him.—"Have done trifling," said she, "and let me alone." She was going away: he followed her, and taking her by the hand, besought her earnestly to explain to him, her son, the cause of her sorrow. She suffered herself to be led by him into a retired part of the garden, and then said—
"I would not to any one else disclose my own and my mistress's distresses; but since she is in the extremest agitation, and I am in danger of my life (for I fear the worst from her rage and disappointment), I will venture to speak, in case you should be able to think of any thing that may comfort and assist your poor mother. Arsace is in love with the young man who is now at my apartments: she burns with no common affection, but with inflamed and ungovernable passion; and when both of us thought it an easy matter for her to satisfy her inclinations, we have been miserably disappointed. To this cause you are to attribute the attentions which have been paid to, and the favours which have been showered upon, the strangers; but since this stupid, rash, and unbending youth has rejected all our advances, she, I think, will not survive it; and I anticipate destruction for myself. This, my child, is the cause of my present affliction:—if you have it in your power to assist me, do it quickly, or else prepare shortly to pay the last rites over my tomb."
"What shall be my reward?" replied Achæmenes, "for it is necessary to come directly to the point: it is not a time, in your present confusion and distress, to delay you with long discourse."
"Ask whatever you please," replied Cybele: "I have already, by my interest, made you head-cupbearer: if you are desirous of any greater dignity, tell me so: there is no degree of wealth, or honour, to which you may not aspire, if you can procure Arsace the means of satisfying her inclinations."
"I have long suspected this passion of the princess," replied the young man, "but kept silence, waiting the event. I am not covetous of riches, or ambitious of place; if she can procure me in marriage the maiden who is called the sister of Theagenes, I think I may promise that every thing else shall happen according to her wishes. I am desperately in love with this young woman. Your mistress, who knows by experience the force of this passion, may very reasonably be brought to assist a fellow sufferer in it, especially when, by so doing, she may probably meet with success in her own pursuits."
"Doubt not," said Cybele, "of her gratitude. She will do anything for you, if you can be of real service to her in this affair; nay, we may perhaps, ourselves persuade the maiden; but explain, I beg of you, in what manner you propose to assist us."
"I will not say a word," he replied, "till Arsace has promised, and sworn, to grant me what I desire: and do not you by any means at present enter upon the subject with the young woman. She too, I can see, is of a high and lofty spirit; you may spoil all by undue rashness."—"I will act just as you shall direct," replied Cybele; and running into her mistress's apartment, she fell at her feet, and bid her be of good cheer, for every thing now should happen as she would have it—"Only," said she, "admit my son Achæmenes to an audience."
"Let him come in," replied the princess; "but take care that you do not again deceive me." Achæmenes was upon this introduced—his mother explained his wishes, and made known his promises—and Arsace swore to procure for him the hand of Chariclea. He then said—
"Let Theagenes give over all his airs; he who is a slave, yet dares to behave with insolence to his mistress."—Being desired to explain himself, he related all he knew—How Theagenes was taken captive in war by Mithranes, who was about to send him to Oroondates, in order that he might convey him to the Great King—that he was rescued in the way by Thyamis and the men of Bessa—that he, Achæmenes, with difficulty escaped from them—that he was fortunate enough to have with him the letters of Mithranes. And upon this he produced and shewed them to Arsace; and appealed to Thyamis for the truth of all he had said.
Arsace began to conceive hope from these tidings, and, immediately issuing from her chamber, repaired to the hall of audience, where, seating herself upon her throne, she commanded Theagenes to be brought before her.
When he appeared, she asked him if he knew Achæmenes, whom she pointed out to him, standing near her. He replied that he did.—"Was he not," said she, "bringing you hither a captive, some short time ago?" He admitted that also.—"You are my slave then," said she, "and as such, shall do as I direct you, and, whether you will or not, be obedient to my commands. This sister of yours I give in marriage to Achæmenes, who fills a principal station in my court, as well for his own good deserts, as out of the regard I have for his mother; and I will defer the nuptials only till a day is fixed, and preparation made for due splendour in their celebration."
Theagenes was pierced as with a sword at this address, but determined not to thwart her, but rather to elude her attack as that of a wild beast.—"Ο princess," he replied, "in the midst of my calamities I give the gods thanks, that since I, whose life was originally fortunate, and family illustrious, am destined to be a slave, I have fallen into your power, rather than into that of any other; into yours, who, while you considered us as strangers and foreigners, have treated us with so much compassion and humanity. As for my sister, although, not being a captive, she is not a slave; yet her own inclination will lead her to serve and obey you in every thing: dispose of her, therefore, as shall seem good in your eyes."—"Let him," Arsace then said, "be placed among the waiters at the royal table; let Achæmenes instruct him in the art of cup-bearing, that he may, without delay, become expert in the services which will be required of him."
Theagenes was now permitted to retire, which he did; sorrowing, and meditating deeply on what he had farther to do.
Achæmenes, elated with the success of his project, had the cruelty to insult him.—"You," said he, "who were just now so haughty, who seemed alone a freeman among slaves; who held your head so high, and refused to bow it even before the princess must now learn to bend it, or else my knuckles shall teach you better manners."
Arsace was left alone with Cybele.—"Now," said she, "nurse, every excuse is taken from this proud Grecian; go to him and tell him, that if he will comply with what I require of him, he shall obtain his liberty, and spend his life in affluence and pleasure; but if he still continues sullen and reluctant, assure him that he shall feel the wrath of an angry mistress, and a disappointed woman: that punishments of every kind await him, and that he shall be condemned to the lowest and most disgraceful slavery." Cybele performed her embassy without delay; and added, from herself, whatever she thought most likely to work upon his hopes or fears.
Theagenes demanded a short time for consideration; and going alone to Chariclea, he exclaimed—"We are undone, my dearest Chariclea! every cable of safety is broken, every anchor of hope is lost; nor have we now the name of liberty to console us in our misfortunes, but are again fallen into servitude."—-He explained his meaning, and related what had happened.—"We are now," he added, "exposed to the insults of barbarians; we must obey all their commands or suffer the extremest punishments; and as if this were not sufficient, what is above all the rest intolerable, know that Arsace has promised to give you in wedlock to Achæmenes, the son of Cybele; but this, while I have life, an arm, and a sword, I will either prevent or never see. But what ought we now to do? What contrivance can we imagine to avoid this detestable union, of you with Achæmenes, of me with Arsace?"
"If you will condescend to the one yourself," replied Chariclea, "you will easily find means to hinder the other."
"Have a care what you say!" replied Theagenes, eagerly, "God forbid that any persecution of fate should drive the faithful, though yet unrewarded lover of Chariclea, to stoop to another, and that an unlawful union; but a thought comes into my head, for necessity[22]is the mother of invention;" and so saying, he immediately sought Cybele, and bade tell her mistress that he wished to have an interview with her alone.
The old woman, concluding that he was now about to give way, joyfully delivered the message, and Arsace ordered her to bring him to the palace after supper. Cybele bade those in waiting withdraw, so that her mistress might be in private and undisturbed, and introduced Theagenes when the shades of night began to envelope every thing in obscurity. A single lamp burnt in the chamber; and as soon as they were entered, she was preparing to retire, but Theagenes stopped her.—"Let Cybele, Ο princess!" said he, "if you please, remain for the present; I know she is a very faithful keeper of secrets;" and taking Arsace's hand, he went on: "Ο my mistress! I did not presume at first to dispute your will, or defer my submission to your commands, for any other reason than that I might obey them with greater security; but now, since the will of fortune has in its kindness made me your slave, I am much more ready to obey your pleasure. One thing only I desire of you—of you who have promised me so many—break off the marriage of Chariclea with Achæmenes; for, to waive other objections, a maiden of her noble birth is no fit wife for the son of a slave. If this be not granted me, I swear by all that is sacred that I will never comply with your wishes; and if the least violence is offered to Chariclea, you shall soon see me dead at your feet."
"You may be sure," replied Arsace, "that I, who am willing to surrender even myself, desire in everything to oblige you; but I have sworn to give your sister to Achæmenes."—"Let not that trouble you," said he, "you may give him any sister of mine; but my mistress,[23]my intended, my betrothed in short, you neither would wish to bestow, nor shall you bestow, upon him."
"What mean you?" said she.—"Nothing but the truth," replied he, "for Chariclea is really not my sister, but my intended wife; you are, therefore, absolved from your oath; and if you wish for a farther confirmation of my words, you may, as soon as it please you, give order for the celebration of our nuptials."
Arsace was much annoyed; and heard, not without jealousy, the true relation in which Chariclea stood to Theagenes; but, at present, only said,—"If you will have it so, this marriage shall be broken off, and I will seek out another wife for Achæmenes."—"When this matter is settled," replied Theagenes, "dispose of me as you please, I will perform all I have promised." He then approached in order to kiss her hands. She, however, instead of presenting her hand, saluted him with her lips; and he left the presence kissed, but not kissing in return.
On his return to Chariclea, he disclosed to her all that had passed, (at which she, too, was not free from jealousy.) setting before her the secret intention of his promise, the good results which he anticipated from it. In the first place, the project of Achæmenes' marriage would be marred, a fair pretext would be afforded for deferring at present the completion of Arsace's wishes; and what was worth more than all, there was the certainty that Achæmenes would make "confusion worse confounded," upon finding his expectations blighted, and himself supplanted in the princess's good graces by another favourite. I took care (he said) to have his mother present at the interview, and a witness that our intercourse was but inwords; she will keep nothing secret from her son. It may suffice perhaps (he added) to avoid all occasion for an evil conscience, and to trust only in the protection of the gods; but it is good also to avoid all occasion for an evil conscience in the sight of men, so as to pass through this transitory life with virtuous boldness. "There is every reason to believe," added he, "that a slave like Achæmenes, will conspire against his mistress; for the subject commonly hates the cause of his subjection, and this man has no occasion to invent a pretext for rebellion (as has been the case with many), he is really wronged, has been deceived, and sees another preferred before him; he is conscious to the profligacy of his mistress, and has a motive ready to his hand."
He held this discourse to Chariclea, endeavouring to revive in her a hope of better things. On the morrow he was sent for by Achæmenes to serve at the table, for such were Arsace's commands. He was arrayed in a Persian robe of great value, which was sent by her at the same time, and adorned partly against his will, with bracelets and jewelled necklaces.
Upon arriving at the palace, Achæmenes offered to instruct him in the functions of his office; but, hastening to the sideboard, and taking up a precious goblet, he said,—"I need no instructor, self-taught, I will wait upon my mistress, making no bustle about such trifles. Your fortune has forced you perhaps to learn your trade; nature and the spur of the moment will teach me what I am to do." So saying, he lightly, and with a grace, poured out the wine, and handed the cup upon his finger ends.[24]
The draught inflamed the mind of Arsace more than ever. Slowly sipping, she fixed her eyes intently upon Theagenes, taking in at the same time large draughts of love; neither did she drain the goblet, but left a portion of its contents, in which Theagenes might pledge her. A wound of a very different nature rankled in the bosom of Achæmenes: anger, envy, and resentment manifested themselves on his countenance, so that Arsace could not help observing it, and whispered something to those who were nearest her.
When the entertainment broke up—"Grant me," said Theagenes, "my mistress! this first boon which I shall ask—permit me alone to wear this dress when serving at your table." Arsace agreed to his request, and putting on his ordinary raiment, he departed. Achæmenes followed him, sharply upbraided him with his want of manners; telling him, too, that there was a forwardness and familiarity in him, which, though they might at first be overlooked, in consideration of his youth and inexperience, would in the end, if not corrected, infallibly give offence. He gave him these cautions, he said, out of a friendly feeling, and particularly as he was shortly to become related to him by marrying his sister, according to his mistress's promise.
He was proceeding with his good advice; but Theagenes, his eyes fixed in deep thought on the ground, seemed not to hear, and was preparing to leave him, when Cybele joined them, on her way to conduct her mistress to take her usual siesta.[25]Seeing her son sorrowful, and apparently out of humour, she inquired into the cause of it.—-"This foreign youth," said he, "thanks to his specious person, is preferred to all of us, the ancient chamberlains and cupbearers; to-day he has already wormed himself into our mistress's good graces, and has waited nearest her royal person, presenting the cup to her, and thrusting us out of our former dignity, which has become no more than an empty name. We ought, perhaps, to bear without murmuring, if we cannot feel without envy, the honours he receives, and the confidence to which he is admitted, since we have had the weakness, by our negligence and silence, to assist in his success; our mistress, however, might have done all this without affronting and disgracing her old servants, who moreover are in all her secrets. But some other time will serve for speaking farther on this subject: at present, let me go and see my charming Chariclea, my promised bride; that, by her sweet aspect, I may soothe the annoyance of my mind."
"What bride do you talk of?" replied Cybele, "you seem to me to take fire at small and imaginary offences, and to be ignorant of the real and deep ones which you have received. Chariclea is no longer destined for your wife."
"What say you?" he exclaimed, "am not I a very fitting match for my fellow-slave? What can have wrought this sudden change?"—"Our own too great fidelity and zeal in serving Arsace;" replied Cybele, "for after that we have preferred her caprices to our own safety; when, in compliance with her desires, we have endangered ourselves, and have put the accomplishment of her wishes into her power, this noble youth, this dainty favourite, enters her chamber, and at first sight persuades her to break through all her oaths, and to promise Chariclea to himself; who now, as he affirms, is no longer his sister, but his mistress."