"And is Chariclea indeed promised to Theagenes?" said Achæmenes.—"It is but too true," replied Cybele, "I was present myself and heard it; they even talked of the nuptial feast, and of celebrating it shortly; proposing to satisfy you with the hand of some one else."
At this mortifying intelligence Achæmenes, smiting his hands together, and uttering a deep groan—"I will make this wedding a fatal one to them all," said he; "only do you assist me in endeavouring to put it off for a few days. If any one inquires after me, say that I am indisposed and gone into the country. This precious stranger's calling her his betrothed is a mere pretext to break through the engagements that have been made to me; his kissing, his embracing her, nay, his sleeping with her, would not clearly convince me that she is not his sister. I will sift this business, and will vindicate the violated oaths and the insulted gods." So saying, raging with love, jealousy, and disappointment (feelings all the more violent in a barbarian's breast), he rushed out of the room; and without giving himself time for consideration, in the first moments of his passion, he secretly mounted, in the evening, an Armenian horse, reserved for state occasions, and fled full speed to Oroondates.
The Viceroy was then in the neighbourhood of the celebrated Thebes,[26]marshalling all his forces, and preparing to lead them on an expedition against the Ethiopians.
[1]ἐκ τῆς νεκυίας,—Νεκυία—the title of the 11th Bk. of the Odyssey.
[1]ἐκ τῆς νεκυίας,—Νεκυία—the title of the 11th Bk. of the Odyssey.
[2]The description of "Gulbeyaz," in Don Juan, canto v., here and there illustrates amusingly the scenes between Theagenes and Arsace."Her presence was as lofty as her state;Her beauty of that overpowering kind,Whose force description only would abate."—C. v. 97.
[2]The description of "Gulbeyaz," in Don Juan, canto v., here and there illustrates amusingly the scenes between Theagenes and Arsace.
"Her presence was as lofty as her state;Her beauty of that overpowering kind,Whose force description only would abate."—C. v. 97.
[3]See Book II.
[3]See Book II.
[4]——"she had recourse to nods, and signs.And smiles, and sparkles of the speaking eye."—C. ii. 162.
[4]
——"she had recourse to nods, and signs.And smiles, and sparkles of the speaking eye."—C. ii. 162.
[5]Κηρὐκειον, caduceus, the staff or mace carried by heralds and ambassadors in time of war.
[5]Κηρὐκειον, caduceus, the staff or mace carried by heralds and ambassadors in time of war.
[6]"She did so course o'er my exteriors with such a greedy intention that the appetite of her eye did seem to scorch me up like a burning glass."—Merry Wives of Windsor.
[6]"She did so course o'er my exteriors with such a greedy intention that the appetite of her eye did seem to scorch me up like a burning glass."—Merry Wives of Windsor.
[7]Εἰρήνης αὑτὸς ἐyέvεro πρύτανις—literally, he became the president or manager, &c.
[7]Εἰρήνης αὑτὸς ἐyέvεro πρύτανις—literally, he became the president or manager, &c.
[8]"Her rage was but a minute's, and 'twas well—A moment's more had slain her; but the whileIt lasted 'twas like a short glimpse of hell:Nought's more sublime than energetic bile,Though horrible to see, yet grand to tell,Like ocean warring 'gainst a rocky isle;And the deep passions flashing through her form,Made her a beautiful embodied storm."—Byron.
[8]
"Her rage was but a minute's, and 'twas well—A moment's more had slain her; but the whileIt lasted 'twas like a short glimpse of hell:Nought's more sublime than energetic bile,Though horrible to see, yet grand to tell,Like ocean warring 'gainst a rocky isle;And the deep passions flashing through her form,Made her a beautiful embodied storm."—Byron.
[9]The original has τήμερον, to-day; but that must be an oversight, for a little before it is said that Arsace continuedall night, παννύχιος, in agitation.
[9]The original has τήμερον, to-day; but that must be an oversight, for a little before it is said that Arsace continuedall night, παννύχιος, in agitation.
[10]ἀπ' οἰκήματος καὶ ἐπιτιτηδευμενῳ κάλλει.
[10]ἀπ' οἰκήματος καὶ ἐπιτιτηδευμενῳ κάλλει.
[11]Like Glaucus with Diomed in the Iliad, vi. 235.
[11]Like Glaucus with Diomed in the Iliad, vi. 235.
[12]ποπάνοις."tenui popano corruptus Osiris."—Juv. vi. 541.
[12]ποπάνοις.
"tenui popano corruptus Osiris."—Juv. vi. 541.
[13]——"Fie—fie upon her!There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip;Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look outAt every joint and motive of her body."Troilus and Cressida.
[13]
——"Fie—fie upon her!There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip;Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look outAt every joint and motive of her body."Troilus and Cressida.
[14]Charicles.
[14]Charicles.
[15]Hδε επίτραγῶδει.
[15]Hδε επίτραγῶδει.
[16]πολιός—hoary, venerable. See uses of the word in Scott and Liddell's Lexicon.
[16]πολιός—hoary, venerable. See uses of the word in Scott and Liddell's Lexicon.
[17]"To hear and to obey had been from birthThe law of all around her; to fulfilAll phantasies which yielded joy or mirthHad been her slaves' chief pleasure, as her will."Don Juan, v. 102.
[17]
"To hear and to obey had been from birthThe law of all around her; to fulfilAll phantasies which yielded joy or mirthHad been her slaves' chief pleasure, as her will."Don Juan, v. 102.
[18]Among the Persians it was held a great mark of honour to send dishes from their tables to those whom they favoured. See Xenophon, Cyro. Book VIII. 2, 3. "Οσα δὲ πάρατεθείη, ταῦτα πάντα πλὴν οἶς αὑτὸς καὶ οἰ σύνδειπνοἰ χρήσαιντο, διεδίδoυ oἷς ἀεὶ βούλοιτο τῶν φίλων μνήμην ἐνδείκνυσθαι ἥ φιλοφροσύνην." The reader will of course remember an instance of the like custom in Scripture, Gen. xliii. 34.
[18]Among the Persians it was held a great mark of honour to send dishes from their tables to those whom they favoured. See Xenophon, Cyro. Book VIII. 2, 3. "Οσα δὲ πάρατεθείη, ταῦτα πάντα πλὴν οἶς αὑτὸς καὶ οἰ σύνδειπνοἰ χρήσαιντο, διεδίδoυ oἷς ἀεὶ βούλοιτο τῶν φίλων μνήμην ἐνδείκνυσθαι ἥ φιλοφροσύνην." The reader will of course remember an instance of the like custom in Scripture, Gen. xliii. 34.
[19]"He stood like Atlas with a world of wordsAbout his ears, and the knees would not bend;The blood of all his line's Castilian lordsBoil'd in his veins and rather than descendTo stain his pedigree a thousand swordsA thousand time of him had made an end."Don Juan, v. 104.
[19]
"He stood like Atlas with a world of wordsAbout his ears, and the knees would not bend;The blood of all his line's Castilian lordsBoil'd in his veins and rather than descendTo stain his pedigree a thousand swordsA thousand time of him had made an end."Don Juan, v. 104.
[20]ἃρπαγμα; ἓρμαιον—a windfall; a godsend.
[20]ἃρπαγμα; ἓρμαιον—a windfall; a godsend.
[21]"A tigress robb'd of young, a lioness,Or any interesting beast of prey,Are similes at hand for the distressOf ladies who cannot have their own way."Don Juan, c. v. 132.
[21]
"A tigress robb'd of young, a lioness,Or any interesting beast of prey,Are similes at hand for the distressOf ladies who cannot have their own way."Don Juan, c. v. 132.
[22]Εὑρετὶς ἅρα ἐστὶ λογισμῶν ἡ ἀνάγκη.
[22]Εὑρετὶς ἅρα ἐστὶ λογισμῶν ἡ ἀνάγκη.
[23]Μνηστὴν—νύμφην—γαμετήν.
[23]Μνηστὴν—νύμφην—γαμετήν.
[24]An illustration of this nicety in waiting occurs in Xen. Cyrop., book i. 3, where Cyrus amuses the company by acting as cupbearer to his grandfather:—Όι τῶν βασιλἐων οἰνοχόοι, κομψῶς τε οἰνοχοοῦσι, καὶ καθαρίως ἑγχἐουσι, καὶ διδόασι τοῖς τρισὶ δακτύλοις οχοῦντες τἡν φιάλήν.
[24]An illustration of this nicety in waiting occurs in Xen. Cyrop., book i. 3, where Cyrus amuses the company by acting as cupbearer to his grandfather:—Όι τῶν βασιλἐων οἰνοχόοι, κομψῶς τε οἰνοχοοῦσι, καὶ καθαρίως ἑγχἐουσι, καὶ διδόασι τοῖς τρισὶ δακτύλοις οχοῦντες τἡν φιάλήν.
[25]κατευνάσαι τὴν δέσποιναν τὸ μεσημβρινὸν ἐπειγομένη.
[25]κατευνάσαι τὴν δέσποιναν τὸ μεσημβρινὸν ἐπειγομένη.
[26]... "opulent Egyptian Thebes,... the city with a hundred gates,Whence twenty thousand chariots rush to war."Hom. Il. ix. 381.—Cowper's Tr.
[26]
... "opulent Egyptian Thebes,... the city with a hundred gates,Whence twenty thousand chariots rush to war."Hom. Il. ix. 381.—Cowper's Tr.
The king of Ethiopia had deceived Oroondates by a stratagem, and made himself master of one of the objects of the war—the city of Philœ, always ready to fall a prey to the first invader—and, by so doing, had reduced him to great straits, and to a necessity of using sudden and hurried efforts for its recovery.
Philœ is situated a little above the smaller cataracts of the Nile, about twelve miles distant from Syene and Elephantis. The city was formerly seized upon and inhabited by a band of Egyptian fugitives, which made it debateable land between the governments of Egypt and Ethiopia. The latter were for extending their dominions as far as the cataracts, while the former claimed even the city of Philœ, pretending that they had conquered it in war, because it had been occupied by their exiles. It had been taken and retaken several times by both nations; and was, just before the time I am speaking of, held by an Egyptian and Persian garrison.
The king of Ethiopia dispatched an embassy to Oroondates, to demand the restoration of the city and the emerald mines; and meeting, as has been before observed,[1]with a refusal, he sent ambassadors a second time towards Egypt; (they going in advance) he following a few days later, with a numerous army, set on foot beforehand, but keeping all the while their destination a profound secret.
When he concluded that his envoys had passed Philœ, and had lulled the inhabitants and garrison there into negligence and security, by persuading them, as they were instructed, that they were preparing to proceed farther on a peaceful embassy; he on a sudden appeared before Philœ, in a few days overwhelmed its surprised and unprepared defenders (unable to resist his superior force and his artillery),[2]and took possession of the city, which he kept, without injuring any who dwelt in it.
In the midst of these troubles Achæmenes found Oroondates, and by his sudden and unexpected appearance, helped to increase them.—"Has any misfortune," hastily he inquired, "happened to Arsace, or to any other of my family?" "A misfortune has happened," replied Achæmenes, "but I would speak to you in private."
When every one had retired he entered upon his story. He related the capture of Theagenes by Mithranes; how he was sent to him (Oroondates), in order to be conveyed, if he thought proper, as a present to the Great King, to whose court and table the youth would be a worthy ornament. He proceeded to narrate his rescue from them in their journey by the men of Bessa, the death of Mithranes in his defence, and his own subsequent arrival at Memphis, introducing into his narrative the affairs also of Thyamis.
At length he came to the ungoverned passion of Arsace—the transfer of Theagenes into the palace—his too kind reception there—his attendance and his cup-bearing—"Hitherto," he added, "I believe nothing has actually taken place, for the youth is coy and unwilling; but if this temptation be not taken away from before her eyes—if Theagenes be not speedily removed from Memphis—there is the greatest reason to apprehend that time, fear, and artifices of various kinds, will at length conquer his disinclination. On these accounts I have taken an opportunity to leave the city privately, and to come in all haste to make this discovery to you, thinking it my duty no longer to conceal a matter in which your honour and interest are so intimately concerned."
When he had raised the resentment of Oroondates by these tidings, and filled him with indignation and a desire of revenge, he inflamed his desires when he came to dwell upon the charms of Chariclea. He extolled her to the skies, spoke of her beauty as divine; saying that her equal never had, and never would be seen. "None of your concubines," said he, "not those alone who are left at Memphis, but those even who follow your person, are in any degree to be compared with her." In this manner Achæmenes went on, raising the curiosity and wishes of Oroondates, reckoning, that although the viceroy might indulge his fancy for Chariclea for a time, yet he might afterwards easily be induced to give her up to him in marriage, as a reward for his discoveries.
Urged on by anger and desire, the viceroy instantly summoned the eunuch Bagoas, who was in great favour and authority, and commanded him to proceed directly to Memphis with a troop of fifty horse, and without fail or delay to bring Theagenes and Chariclea to his camp, wherever he should find them.
He wrote at the same time a letter to Arsace to this effect:
"Oroondates to Arsace."Send to me Theagenes and Chariclea, the captive pair, who are slaves to the Great King, and under orders to be transmitted to him. Send them willingly, since, even if you be unwilling, they will be taken from you; and then the report of Achæmenes will be believed."
"Oroondates to Arsace.
"Send to me Theagenes and Chariclea, the captive pair, who are slaves to the Great King, and under orders to be transmitted to him. Send them willingly, since, even if you be unwilling, they will be taken from you; and then the report of Achæmenes will be believed."
To the chief eunuch at Memphis he wrote as follows:
"You shall hereafter give an account of your negligence as to my household; at present deliver the Grecian captives to Bagoas, that they may be brought to me, whether Arsace consent to it or not. Deliver them, I say, or the bearer of these presents has orders to bring you hither in chains, when you shall be flayed alive."
"You shall hereafter give an account of your negligence as to my household; at present deliver the Grecian captives to Bagoas, that they may be brought to me, whether Arsace consent to it or not. Deliver them, I say, or the bearer of these presents has orders to bring you hither in chains, when you shall be flayed alive."
Bagoas took the letters, signed with the viceroy's signet, that they might obtain full credit, and set out for Memphis to execute his master's orders.
Oroondates now put himself in motion against the Ethiopians, commanding Achæmenes to follow him, who was watched and guarded without his knowing it, till it should appear whether the information he had given were true. Meanwhile at Memphis, soon after the departure of Achæmenes, Thyamis had been completely invested with the office of high priest, and, as such, was become one of the chiefs of the city.
After he had celebrated, with proper piety, the funeral of Calasiris, and observed, in mourning and retirement, the appointed number of days—as soon as the sacred laws permitted him to hold communication with those who were without the temple, his first care was to inquire after Theagenes and Chariclea.
He learned, with some difficulty, that they had been removed to the viceroy's palace; and immediately on receiving this intelligence he hastened to Arsace, to make inquiries after them. He was solicitous about them on various accounts; and particularly as his father had, with his last breath, recommended them, in the strongest manner, to his care and protection.
He returned thanks to the princess for her goodness in receiving and entertaining the young Grecian strangers, during that space of time in which it was not lawful for them to continue within the precincts of the temple; and he now begged permission to resume the pledge entrusted to his care.
"I wonder," replied Arsace, "that while you are praising my kindness and humanity, you should at the same time intimate a doubt of their continuance; and conceive any apprehension that I shall not still be able and willing to entertain these foreigners, and assign to them such honour as is due."
"You mistake me," replied Thyamis; "I know that they would live here in much more splendour and affluence than they can with me, even did they wish to remain under my roof: but having met with many misfortunes, born of an illustrious family, and now wandering here, far from their native home; the first wish of their hearts is, to recover their friends, and to return to their country: my pledge to aid them was the inheritance left me by my father; and I have, too, myself many motives for friendship towards them."
"You act discreetly," replied Arsace, "in asking as a favour, rather than demanding as a right: for a favour it would be in me to give up to your friendship, those over whom I have a right as slaves."—"Slaves!" cried Thyamis, in amazement, "what mean you?"—"I mean captives," said she, "by the right of war."
Perceiving that she meant to insist upon their having been taken by Mithranes, he thus resumed:—"Ο Arsace! it is not now war, but peace; if that brings servitude, this restores liberty again; the one is the result of a tyrant's will, the other is a truly royal gift.[3]Besides, it is not the mere name but the disposition of those using them, which really constitute either peace or war. By attending to these considerations you will define better wherein equity consists: there can be no doubt as to what honour and expediency demand in the present case. How can it be honourable, or expedient, in you to persist obstinately in the detention of these strangers, and to avow your determination of so doing?"
Arsace could no longer contain herself; but acted, like most who are in love, while they imagine their passion concealed they feel timidity; when discovered they lose all shame; concealment makes them timid, discovery audacious:[4]she stood self-accused; and she could not help perceiving, or thinking she perceived, that Thyamis suspected her. Throwing aside therefore all reserve, and all regard to the dignity of the high priest, she broke out on a sudden—"Be assured that you too shall answer for the share you have had in the attack upon Mithranes; Oroondates will make a strict inquiry after, and punish with severity, all those who were concerned in the slaughter of him and of his troops. As to these foreigners, I will not give them up; they are now my slaves; shortly they will be sent, according to our custom, to my brother, the Great King: declaim as you please on what is decent, proper, and expedient; those in power need not such things; they find them all in the indulgence of their own sovereign will.[5]Retire, then, from the palace at once and willingly, lest you be restrained against your will."
Thyamis retired, invoking the gods and predicting to her no good event from such behaviour, and considering whether he should disclose these proceedings to the citizens, and call upon them for assistance.
"I value not your priesthood or your prophecy," said Arsace, "the only prophecy which love regards, is the prospect of success." So saying, she withdrew to her chamber, and sending for Cybele, consulted with her upon the measures which she had next to pursue. She suspected the flight of Achæmenes, and the motive of it; for Cybele, whenever she was questioned on the subject, made various excuses for his absence, and studiously endeavoured to persuade her that he was anywhere else, rather than in the camp of Oroondates. These excuses, never wholly credited, became each day less credible.
When Cybele therefore approached her, she thus began: "What shall I do, nurse? How can I ease the torments which oppress me? My love is as intense as ever; nay, I think it burns more violently: but this youth, so far from being softened by kindness and favours, becomes more stubborn, and intractable. Some time ago he could bring himself to soothe me by fallacious promises, but now he seems openly and manifestly averse to my desires: I fear he suspects, as I do, the cause of Achæmenes' absence, and that this has made him more timorous. It ishisdisappearance, indeed, which gives me most uneasiness: I cannot help thinking that he is gone to Oroondates, and perhaps will wholly or in part succeed in persuading him of the truth of what he says. Could I but see Oroondates, he would not withstand one tear or caress of mine; a woman's well-known features exert a mighty magic over men.[6]It will be a grievous thing, before I have enjoyed Theagenes, to be informed against, nay, perhaps put to death, should his mind be poisoned before I have the means of seeing and conversing with him: wherefore, my dear Cybele, leave no stone unturned, strain every engine; you see how pressing and critical the business now becomes; and you may well believe that, if I myself am driven to despair, I shall not easily spare others. You will be the first to rue the machinations of your son: and how you can be ignorant of them I cannot conceive."
"The event," replied Cybele, "will prove the injustice of your suspicions, both with regard to my son and me: but when you are yourself so supine[7]in the prosecution of your love, why do you lay the fault on others? You are flattering this youth like a slave, when you should command him as a mistress. This indulgent mildness might be proper at first, for fear of alarming his tender and inexperienced mind; but when kindness is ineffectual, assume a tone of more severity; let punishments, and even stripes, force from him that compliance which favours have failed in doing. It is inborn in youth to despise those who court; to yield to those who curb them: try this method and you will find him give to force that which he refused to mildness."
"Perhaps you may be right," replied Arsace, "but how can I bear to see that delicate body, which I doat on to distraction, torn with whips, and suffering under tortures?"
"Again you are relapsing into your unseasonable tenderness," said Cybele; "a few turns of the rack will bring about all you desire, and for a little uneasiness which you may feel, you will soon obtain the full accomplishment of your wishes. You may spare your eyes the pain of seeing his sufferings—deliver him to the chief eunuch, Euphrates; order him to correct him, for some fault which you may feign he has committed—our ears are duller, you know, in admitting pity, than are our eyes.[8]On the first symptoms of compliance, you may free him from his restraint."
Arsace suffered herself to be persuaded; for love, rejected and despairing, pities not even its object, and disappointment seeks revenge. She sent for the chief eunuch, and gave him directions for the purpose which had been suggested to her. He received them with a savage joy, rankling with the envy natural to his race,[9]and from what he saw and suspected, particularly angry with Theagenes. He put him immediately in chains, cast him into a deep dungeon, and punished him with hunger and stripes: keeping all the while a sullen silence; answering none of the miserable youth's inquiries, who pretended, (though he well knew the cause), to be ignorant of the reason why he was thus harshly treated. He increased his sufferings every day, far beyond what Arsace knew of or commanded, permitting no one but Cybele to see him; for such, indeed, were his orders.
She visited him every day, under pretence of comforting, of bringing him nourishment; and of pitying him, because of their former acquaintance: in reality, to observe and report what effect his punishment had upon him, and whether it had mollified his stubborn heart; but his spirit was still unconquered, and seemed to acquire fresh force from the duration of his trials.[10]His body, indeed, was torn with tortures, but his soul was exalted by the consciousness of having preserved its purity and honour. He gloried that while fortune was thus persecuting him, she was conferring a boon upon his nobler part—the soul. Rejoicing in this opportunity of showing his fidelity to Chariclea, and hoping only she would one day become acquainted with his sufferings, for her sake he was perpetually calling upon her name and styling her his light! his life! his soul!
Cybele (who had urged Euphrates to increase the severity of his treatment, contrary to the intentions of Arsace, whose object was by moderate chastisement, to bend but not to kill him), saw it was all to no purpose, and began to perceive the peril in which she stood. She feared punishment from Oroondates, if Achæmenes should incautiously discover too much of the share she had in the business; she feared lest her mistress should lay violent hands upon herself, either stung by the disappointment, or dreading the discovery of her amour. She determined, therefore, to make a bold attempt, to avoid the danger which awaited her, either by bringing about what Arsace desired, or to remove all concerned in, and privy to the matter, by involving them in one common destruction.
Going therefore to the princess—"We are losing our labour," she said: "this stubborn youth, instead of being softened, grows every day more self-willed; he has Chariclea continually in his mouth, and, by calling upon her alone, consoles himself in his misfortunes. Let us then, as a last experiment, cut the cable,[11]as the proverb says, and rid ourselves of this impediment to our wishes: perhaps, when he shall hear that she is no more, he may despair of obtaining her, and surrender himself to your desires."
Arsace eagerly seized upon this idea: her rage and jealousy had but too well prepared her for embracing the cruel expedient.—"You advise well," she replied, "I will take care to have this wretch removed out of our way."—"But who will you get to put your design into execution?" said Cybele, "for though your power here is great, the laws forbid you to put any one to death without the sentence of the judges. You must undergo, therefore, some trouble and delay in framing a fictitious charge against this maiden; and there will, besides, be some difficulty in proving it. To save you the pain and hazard of this proceeding, I am ready to dare and suffer anything. I will, if you think fit, do the deed with poison, and by means of a medicated cup remove our adversary."
Arsace approved, and bid her execute her purpose. She lost no time, but went to the unhappy Chariclea, whom she found in tears, and revolving how she could escape from life of which she was now weary; suspecting as she did the sufferings and imprisonment of Theagenes, though Cybele had endeavoured to conceal them from her, and had invented various excuses for his unusual absence.
The beldame thus addressed her:—"Why will you consume yourself in continual, and now causeless, lamentations? Theagenes is free, and will be with you here this evening. His mistress, angry at some fault which he had committed in her service, ordered him into a slight confinement, but has this day given directions for his release, in honour of a feast which she is preparing to celebrate, and in compliance with my entreaties. Arise, therefore, compose yourself, and refresh your spirits with a slight refection."
"How shall I believe you?" replied the afflicted maiden, "you have deceived me so often, that I know not how to credit what you say."
"I swear to you, by all the gods," said Cybele, "all your troubles shall have an end this day; all your anxiety shall be removed, only do not first kill yourself by abstaining obstinately, as you do, from food. Taste, then, the repast which I have provided."
Chariclea was, with difficulty, persuaded, though she very naturally entertained suspicions; the protestations, however, of the old woman, and the pleasing hopes suggested prevailed at length; (for what the mind desires it believes),[12]and they sat down to the repast.
Cybele motioned to Abra, the slave, who waited upon them, to give the cup, after she had mixed the wine, first to Chariclea; she then took another herself and drank. She had not swallowed all that was presented to her, when she appeared seized with dizziness; and throwing what remained in the cup upon the ground, and casting a fierce look upon the attendant, her body was attacked with violent spasms and convulsions. Chariclea, and all who were in the room, were struck with horror, and attempted to raise and assist her; but the poison, potent enough to destroy a young and vigorous person, wrought more quickly than can be expressed upon her old and worn-out body. It seized the vitals; she was consumed by inward fire; her limbs, which were at first convulsed, became at length stiff and motionless, and a black colour spread itself over her skin. But the malice of her soul was more malignant even than the poison, and Cybele, even in death did not give over her wicked arts; but by signs and broken accents, gave the assistants to understand that she was poisoned by the contrivance of Chariclea. No sooner did she expire than the innocent maiden was bound, and carried before Arsace.
When the princess asked her if she had prepared the fatal draught, and threatened her, if she would not confess the whole truth, that torments should force it from her, her behaviour astonished all the beholders. She did not cast down her eyes; she betrayed no fear; she even smiled, and treated the affair with scorn, disregarding, in conscious innocence, the incredible accusation, and rejoicing in the imputation of the guilt, if through the agency of others, it should bring her to a death, which Theagenes had already undergone. "If Theagenes be alive," said she, "I am totally guiltless of this crime; but if he has fallen a victim to your most virtuous practices, it needs no tortures to extract a confession from me: then am I the poisoner of your incomparable nurse, treat me as if I were guilty, and by taking my life, gratify him who loathed your unhallowed wishes."
Arsace was stung into fury by this: she ordered her to be smitten on the face, and then said—"Take this wretch, bound as she is, and show her her precious lover suffering, as he has well deserved; then load every limb with fetters and deliver her to Euphrates; bid him confine her in a dungeon till to-morrow, when she will receive from the Persian magistrates the sentence of death."
While they were leading her away, the girl who had poured out the wine at the fatal repast, who was an Ionian by nation, and the same who was sent at first by Arsace to wait upon her Grecian guests—(whether out of compassion for Chariclea, whom nobody could attend and not love, or moved by a sudden impulse from heaven,) burst into tears, and cried out—"Ο most unhappy and guiltless maiden!" The bystanders wondering at this exclamation and pressing her to explain its meaning, she confessed that it was she who had given the poison to Cybele, from whom she had received it, in order that it might be administered to Chariclea. She declared, that either overcome by trepidation at the enormity of the action, or confused at the signs made by Cybele, to present the goblet first to the young stranger, she had, in her hurry, changed the cups, and given that containing the poison to the old woman.
She was immediately taken before Arsace, every one heartily wishing that Chariclea might be found innocent; for beauty, and nobleness of demeanour, can move compassion even in the minds of barbarians.
The slave repeated before her mistress all she had said before, but it was of no avail towards clearing the innocent maiden, and served only to involve herself in the same punishment; for Arsace, saying she was an accomplice, commanded her to be bound, thrown into prison, and reserved with the other for trial; and she sent directly to the magistrates, who formed the Supreme Council; and to whom it belonged to try criminals and to pronounce their sentence, ordering them to assemble on the morrow.
At the appointed time, when the court was met, Arsace stated the case, and accused Chariclea of the poisoning; lamenting, with many tears, the loss she had sustained in a faithful and affectionate old servant, whom no treasures could replace; calling the judges themselves to witness the ingratitude with which she had been treated, in that, after she had received and entertained the strangers with the greatest kindness and humanity, she had met with such a base return: in short, her tone was throughout bitter and malignant.
Chariclea made no defence, but confessed the crime, admitting that she had administered the poison, and declaring, that had she not been prevented, she would have given another potion to Arsace; whom she attacked in good set terms; provoking, in short, by every means in her power, the sentence of the judges.
This behaviour was the consequence of a plan concerted between her and Theagenes the night before, in the prison, where they had agreed that she should voluntarily meet the doom with which she was threatened, and quit a wandering and wretched life, now become intolerable by the implacable pursuits of adverse fortune. After which they took a last melancholy embrace; and she bound about her body the jewels which had been exposed with her, which she always carried about her, concealing them under her garments to serve as attendants upon her obsequies; and she now undauntedly avowed every crime which was laid to her charge, and added others which her accusers had not thought of; so that the judges, without any hesitation, were very near awarding her the most cruel punishment, usual in such cases, among the Persians.[13]At last, however, moved perhaps by her youth, her beauty, and noble air, they condemned her to be burnt alive.
She was dragged directly out of the court, and led by the executioners without the walls, the crier proclaiming that a prisoner was going to suffer for the crime of poisoning; and a vast multitude flocking together, and following her, poured out of the city.
Among the spectators upon the walls Arsace had the cruelty to present herself, that she might satiate her revenge, and obtain a savage consolation for her disappointment, in viewing the sufferings of her to whom she imputed it. The ministers of justice now made ready and lighted an immense pile; and were preparing to place the innocent victim upon it, when she begged a delay of a few moments, promising that she would herself voluntarily ascend it—and now turning towards the rising sun, and lifting up her eyes and hands to heaven, she exclaimed—"Ο sun! Ο earth! Ο celestial and infernal deities who view and punish the actions of the wicked! I call upon you to witness how innocent I am of the crime of which I am accused. Receive me propitiously, who am now preparing to undergo a voluntary death, unable to support any longer the cruel and unrelenting attacks of adverse fortune;—but may your speedy vengeance overtake that worker of evil, the accursed and adulterous Arsace; the disappointment of whose profligate designs upon Theagenes has urged her thus to wreak her fury upon me." This appeal, and these protestations, caused a murmur in the assembly. Some said the matter ought to undergo a further examination—some wished to hinder, others advanced to prevent her mounting the pile: but she put them all aside, and ascended it intrepidly.
She placed herself in the midst of it, and remained for a considerable time unhurt, the flames playing harmlessly around her, rather than approaching her; not injuring her in the least—but receding whithersoever she turned herself; so that their only effect seemed to be to give light and splendour to her charms; as she lay like a bride upon a fiery nuptial couch.
She shifted herself from one side of the pile to another, marvelling as much as any one else, at what happened, and seeking for destruction, but still without effect; for the fire ever retreated, and seemed to shun her approach. The executioners on their part were not idle, but threw on more fuel (Arsace by signs inciting them), dry wood, and reeds, and every thing that was likely to raise and feed the flame; yet all was to no purpose; and now a murmur growing into a tumult, began to run through the assembly: they cried out—"This is a divine interposition!—the maiden is unjustly accused!—she is surely innocent!"—and advancing towards the pile, they drove away the ministers of justice, Thyamis, whom the uproar had roused from his retirement, now appearing at their head, and calling on the people for assistance. They were eager to deliver Chariclea, but durst not approach too near. They earnestly desired her, therefore, to come down herself from the pile; for there could be no danger in passing through the flames, to one who appeared even to be untouched by them. Chariclea seeing and hearing this, and believing too that some divinity was really interposing to preserve her, deemed that she ought not to appear ungrateful, or reject the mercy, and leapt lightly from the pile: at which sight the whole city raised a sudden shout of wonder, joy, and thanksgiving to the gods.
Arsace, too, beheld this prodigy with astonishment, but with very different sensations. She could not contain her rage. She left the ramparts, hurried through a postern gate, attended by her guards and the Persian nobles, and herself laid violent hands on Chariclea. Casting a furious glance at the people—"Are ye not ashamed," she cried, "to assist in withdrawing from punishment a wretched creature detected in the very fact of poisoning, and confessing it? Do ye not consider, that while shewing a blameable compassion to this wicked woman, ye are putting yourselves in opposition to the laws of the Persians—to the judges, the peers, the viceroys, and to the Great King himself. The fact of her not burning has perhaps moved you, and ye attribute it to the interposition of the gods, not considering that this yet more fully proves her guilt. Such is her knowledge of charms, and witchcraft, that she is enabled to resist even the force of fire. Come all of you to-morrow to the examination which shall be held in public, and you shall not only hear her confess her crimes herself, but shall find her convicted also by her accomplices whom I have in custody."
She then commanded Chariclea to be led away, still keeping her hold upon her neck, and ordering her guards to disperse the crowd, who were with difficulty prevented from interfering for her rescue; but who at length gave way, partly suspecting her to be a sorceress, and partly through awe of the person, and dreading the power, of Arsace.
Chariclea then was again committed to the custody of Euphrates; again thrown into prison, and reserved for a second trial, and a second sentence; rejoicing however amidst her troubles, that she should once more have an opportunity of seeing, and conversing with, Theagenes; for Arsace, out of a refinement of cruelty, had ordered them to be confined in one dungeon, that each might be a spectator of the other's sufferings; for she well knew that a tender heart is much more hurt by the pains of those it loves than by its own. In this instance, however, her savage mind was disappointed; and what she meant as a punishment turned out a consolation. They took a melancholy pleasure in suffering for each other, and in suffering equally. Had a greater share of torments been inflicted upon either, the other would have been jealous, and thought his love defrauded—moreover they were now together—they could converse with, comfort, and encourage one another to bear their calamities with fortitude, and to resist courageously every trial that might endanger their purity or fidelity. They passed the greatest part of the night in speaking on such topics, as might indeed be expected from a pair, whose whole delight was in their mutual conversation, and who despaired of ever passing another night together again.
At length they came to the miraculous event which happened at the pyre. Theagenes attributed it to the benevolence of the gods, who were angry at the injustice of Arsace, and who pitied Chariclea's innocence and piety. She herself was in doubt whether to thank or complain of heaven. The manifest interposition of the gods at the place of execution, was a mark of their kindness and protection; but to be preserved from death, only to be plunged afresh in new and unceasing troubles, was rather a sign of their having incurred, and still continuing under, the divine displeasure: unless indeed, it were some wonder-working method of the deity delighting to plunge them into the deepest misery, in order to show its power of saving them when their condition appeared desperate.
She was going on in a complaining style, when Theagenes stopped her, bidding her speak more reverently, nor to scrutinize the conduct of the Deity. Suddenly she exclaimed,—"May the gods be propitious to us, for I just now call to mind a dream, (or rather waking vision), which I had last night, and which the unexpected sight of you again, and the various matters which we have since talked of, had driven from my memory. The vision was this:—The beatified Calasiris appeared to me (whether in reality or in idea, I am not certain) and repeated these lines, for the words fell into verse;
'Wearing Pantarbè, fear not flames, fair maid,Fate, to whom nought is hard, shall bring thee aid.'"[14]
Theagenes on his part appeared suddenly like one under supernatural impulse, for springing forwards, as far as his fetters would permit him, he exclaimed—-"The gods be gracious to us! recollection makes me also a poet; I had, myself, a like vision. Calasiris, or some deity in his shape, appeared to me, and addressed me in these lines:
'From Arsace, the morrow sees thee free—To Ethiopia with the virgin flee.'[15]
"Now, I readily comprehend the meaning of the oracle which is given to me. By Ethiopia, is signified the dark abode of those who dwell under the earth—by the virgin, Proserpine—by freedom, my release from this wretched body: but I do not so readily understand that which relates to you—there appears to be a contradiction in it. The name of Pantarbè means 'all fear,' and yet from it you are promised assistance."
"My dearest Theagenes," replied Chariclea, "you have been so accustomed to misfortunes that you use yourself to interpret every thing in its worst sense—the mind of man so readily takes a colour from its circumstances. The oracles appear to me to admit of much more favourable meaning. The virgin, instead of Proserpine, means perhaps me, with whom you are to escape to Ethiopia, my country, after you shall have been delivered from the prisons of Arsace. How all this is to be brought about is not very apparent, but it is not incredible. Every thing is possible to the gods; and they who have favoured us with this prediction, will watch over its accomplishment. The prophecy which relates to me, so far from being obscure, is, as you see, fulfilled; and I am, contrary to all expectation, alive, and unhurt, at least by the flames: I was hitherto ignorant that I carried the cause of my preservation about me, but now I fancy that I understand the words. I took particular care at the time of my trial, as indeed I had been wont to do before, to have the jewels which were exposed with me, bound closely about my body, concealing them under my garments—in case I should escape, they would help to support my life—if I were doomed to suffer, they would adorn my funeral. Among these, which consist of costly necklaces, and Indian and Ethiopian jewels, there is a ring, given by my father to my mother when they were betrothed: within the bezil is a stone called Pantarbè; it is inscribed with sacred letters, and endowed with mystic virtues, from whence, as I conjecture, it obtains the power to preserve those who wear it from the force of fire. This, therefore, most probably, and the good pleasure of the gods, is what has preserved me. I remember too, that our friend, Calasiris, (now in happiness,) told me that something of this virtue was hinted at in the writing inscribed on the fillet which was exposed with me, and which I always wear round my waist."
"What you say," replied Theagenes, "may perhaps be true—what has happened seems to confirm your conjecture: but what Pantarbè will deliver us from the dangers which threaten us to-morrow? This stone, though it preserves from fire, does not confer immortality, and the wicked Arsace will find out some other, and new kind of punishment. How do I wish that she would involve us both in the same sentence, that one and the same hour might end our troubles! I should not esteem such a departure death, but repose and ease to our manifold miseries."
"Be not so cast down," said Chariclea, "the oracle promises us another Pantarbè. Let us trust in the gods, so will our deliverance be more grateful; or, if we be doomed to die, piety will soften and sanctify our sufferings."
In such conversations were the unfortunate lovers employed; each more solicitous for the fate which awaited the other, than for his own. They vowed to be faithful, and love one another till death; and beguiled the melancholy moments in these, which they thought would be their last, protestations. Meanwhile Bagoas and his troop of horse arrived at Memphis, in the middle of the night, while every one was buried in sleep. And when they had, without tumult, roused the guards, and made known who they were, they were admitted and entered into the court of the Viceroy's palace. Bagoas caused his men to surround the building, that he might be prepared, in case of meeting with any resistance; and he himself gaining admission by a crazy postern gate, and commanding silence to the person there, hastened, with ease, from his knowledge of the place, to the apartments of Euphrates, the moon affording a little light. Euphrates was in bed; but being roused by the noise made at his door, started up, and called out "Who is there?" "It is I," said Bagoas; "make no noise, but order a light to be brought."—The other ordered a boy, who slept in his chamber, to bring a light, but to take care not to awaken any one else.
When the light came, and the boy had retired, Euphrates began—"What new calamity does this sudden and unexpected appearance of yours announce?"—"There is no need," returned the other, "of many words; take and read this letter. Recognise the seal of Oroondates, and obey his commands, this very night, with secrecy and expedition: Make use of the soldiers whom I have brought with me, that you may give the less alarm. I leave you to judge for yourself whether you will or will not first disclose the business to Arsace."
Euphrates took the letters, and perused them both. "This," says he, "will be a fresh blow to my mistress, and she needs no additional affliction; for she was yesterday seized with a sudden disorder, as if by a stroke from heaven, and she now lies in a burning fever, and is in the utmost danger of her life. As for these letters, I would not show them to her at present, even were she in good health, for I know that she would sooner die herself, and involve us in the same destruction, than part with these young people. You are arrived just in time to save them. Come then forthwith—receive those whom you seek—take them away—use them kindly yourself, and endeavour to procure for them the same treatment from others. Their situation may well excite your compassion; for I have been obliged, much against my will, but at the inexorable command of Arsace, to inflict upon them a variety of punishments and tortures. They seem, besides, to be well born, and, to judge from their habitual conduct, possessed of discretion and good sense." And so saying, he rose and conducted Bagoas to the prison, who, as soon as he saw the young captives, pale and exhausted as they were with their sufferings, he could not help being wonderfully struck with their form and beauty. They, concluding that this unseasonable visit announced their fate, and that Bagoas was come to lead one of them, at least, to trial and execution, were at first rather agitated; but soon recovering an air of cheerfulness, they appeared pleased rather than grieved.
Euphrates advanced; and as he was preparing to loose their fetters from the wooden block, Theagenes exclaimed, "Accursed Arsace! She hopes to conceal her abominable actions in darkness and obscurity. But let her know that the eye of justice is most piercing; that it will bring to light her most secret crimes and display her wickedness in the face of the sun. But do you, ministers of her cruelty, execute her commands. Grant us, however, one last and only favour: whether we be doomed to die by fire, by water, or by the sword, let us suffer together, and end our wretched being by one and the same kind of death." Chariclea joined in this supplication. The eunuchs, who understood what they said, shed tears, and brought them out in chains as they were.
When they had left the palace, Euphrates remained where he was; and Bagoas, ordering his followers to take off all their fetters, except such as were just necessary to prevent an escape, placed them on horseback, surrounded with his troop, and took, with all expedition, the road to Thebes.
They rode all that night, and the next day till nine o'clock, when, being spent with want of sleep, and exposed to the summer rays of an Egyptian sun, Chariclea particularly, unused to this kind of travelling, being nearly exhausted with fatigue, they resolved, at last, to make a halt, to breathe their horses, and to refresh themselves. They chose for this purpose an elevated and projecting place on the banks of the Nile, where the river, turning from its direct course, and winding into a semicircle, forms a spot something resembling the gulf of Epirus, which, being kept continually moist, abounded in grass and herbage proper for their beasts. Here, too, were peach trees, sycamores, and others which love to grow in the neighbourhood of the Nile, these over-arched and afforded them a pleasant shade. Bagoas availed himself of their shelter instead of tents, and here he took some refreshment, inviting Theagenes and Chariclea to partake of his repast. They refused at first; he pressed them; and when they replied that it was needless for those who were going to execution to trouble themselves about nourishment, he told them they were much mistaken if they thought their lives in any danger; for he was not leading them to death, but to the viceroy Oroondates.
The meridian heat of the sun had now passed; it was no longer vertical, but its beams struck upon them laterally. Bagoas thereupon prepared to pursue his march, when a courier arrived with great precipitation, himself out of breath, and his horse dropping with sweat, and ready to sink under him with fatigue. As soon as he had spoken a word to Bagoas in private, he remained in silence. The eunuch fixing for some time his eyes on the ground, with a serious and reflecting air, at last said, "Rejoice, strangers! You are revenged of your enemy. Arsace is no more. As soon as she heard that you were gone away with me, she strangled herself, and has prevented an inflicted, by a voluntary, death; for her crimes have been such, that she had no hope of escaping the just resentment of Oroondates and the sentence of the Great King, and must either have lost her life, or have spent the remainder of it in infamy and confinement. Be of good cheer, then; fear nothing; I know your innocence, and your persecutor is removed."
Bagoas said this as he stood near them, with difficulty expressing himself in the Greek tongue, and using many uncouth words; but he spoke with sincerity of heart, for he rejoiced at the death of Arsace, whose dissolute manners and tyrannical disposition he abominated; and he wished to comfort and encourage the young people; he thought moreover that he should recommend himself to Oroondates by a very acceptable service, by preserving for him this young man, who would throw into the shade all the rest of his attendants; and by presenting him with a maiden worthy in every respect to supply the place of Arsace.
Theagenes and Chariclea, too, rejoiced at this intelligence. They adored the justice of the gods; and felt that, after this sudden and deserved end of their enemy, they should not feel their misfortunes, however severe—so welcome is death to some if only it be shared in by their foes. Evening now approached. A refreshing breeze sprang up, and invited them to continue their journey. They travelled all that night, and part of the next morning, making all possible expedition to Thebes, in hopes of finding Oroondates there. In this hope, however, Bagoas was disappointed. Before he arrived at that city, a courier met him, and informed him that Oroondates had set out for Syene, leaving the strictest orders to his officers to collect every man, even from the garrisons, and march them after him to that place; for the greatest apprehensions were entertained that the town would be taken before the satrap could arrive to its succour, the Ethiopian army having appeared at its gates before any intelligence was received that it was in motion. Bagoas, therefore, turned out of the road to Thebes, and took that of Syene.
When he came near the place, he fell in with a troop of Ethiopians, who had been sent out to scour the country, and to ascertain the safety of the roads for the march of their own army. Overtaken by night, and ignorant of the ground, they had concealed themselves behind some bushes (in obedience to the orders given them), watching for the passing by of any prey which they might seize, and also providing for their own security. At break of day they perceived the approach of Bagoas and his company. They despised the smallness of their number, but let them all pass by, in order to assure themselves that there was no greater force behind; and then suddenly rushing from their concealment in the marsh, they pursued and attacked them with a great shout.
Bagoas and his men, astonished at the sudden noise and assault, seeing from their colour that they were Ethiopians, and from their number (which amounted to near a thousand light-armed men), that resistance was vain, did not await their approach, but took to flight. They retreated at first with some degree of order, to avoid the appearance of a complete rout. The enemy detached after them a band of two hundred Troglodites. The Troglodites are a pastoral nation, on the borders of Arabia, of great natural agility, which they increase by exercise.[16]They are unused to heavy armour, but, with slings and missile weapons, endeavour to make an impression upon the enemy at a distance, from whom, if they find them superior, they immediately retreat. The enemy do not take the trouble to pursue them, knowing them to be swift as the wind, and given to hide themselves in caverns, which they make their habitations. They, though on foot, soon overtook Bagoas and his flying squadron, and making use of their slings, wounded some of them from afar, yet, on their facing about, did not await their assault, but retreated headlong to their own comrades.
The Persians seeing this, and perceiving the smallness of their number, ventured to attack them; and having easily repulsed them for a space, turned again, and putting spurs to their horses, continued their flight with slackened rein and with the utmost speed. Some, deserting the main body, and hurrying to a bend in the Nile, hid themselves under its banks. The horse of Bagoas fell with him; one of his legs was fractured with the fall, and being unable to move, he was taken prisoner.
Theagenes and Chariclea, too, were made captives. They thought it dishonourable to desert Bagoas, who had shown them much kindness, and from whom they hoped more in future. They kept, therefore, by his side, dismounting from their horses, and voluntarily offered themselves to the enemy; Theagenes saying to Chariclea, "This explains my dream: these are the Ethiopians into whose lands we are fated to go: let us give ourselves up into their hands, and await an uncertain fortune with them, rather than expose ourselves to manifest danger with Oroondates."
Chariclea thought she could now perceive herself to be led on by the hand of destiny: a secret hope of better fortune began to insinuate itself into her bosom, and she could not help considering those who attacked them as friends rather than enemies; but not venturing to disclose her presages to Theagenes, she contented herself with expressing her consent to his advice.
When the Ethiopians approached, and observed Bagoas, from his features, to be a eunuch, and incapable of resistance, and the others unarmed and in chains, but of extraordinary grace and beauty, they inquired who they were. They made use of an Egyptian interpreter, whom they carried with them, who understood besides a little Persian, concluding that the prisoners spoke one or other of these tongues; for experience had taught them that a body detached as spies and scouts ought always to have some one with them who naturally speaks or understands the language of the country which they are sent to reconnoitre.
Theagenes, who, from his long residence in the land, had acquired something of the Egyptian tongue, replied, that the eunuch was one of the chief officers of the Persian viceroy; that he himself and Chariclea were Grecians by birth, taken prisoners, first by the Persians, and now voluntary captives to the Ethiopians, as they hoped, under better auspices.
The enemy determined to spare their lives, and to deliver them, as the first fruits of victory, to their sovereign, looking upon them as amongst the most valuable possessions of the satrap; eunuchs are reckoned as the eyes and ears of a Persian court, having neither children nor connexions to turn aside their fidelity, they are wholly attached to the person and service of their master;[17]their young prisoners, too, appeared to them to be the most beautiful persons they had ever seen, and promised to be conspicuous ornaments to the royal household. They mounted them, therefore, upon horses, and carried them along with them, though the accident of Bagoas, and the fetters of the others, prevented their travelling very fast.
Here, then, was a kind of prologue to another drama:—just before they were prisoners in a foreign land, and on the verge of being brought out to a public and ignominious execution; now they were being carried, or rather escorted, though in captive guise, by those destined, ere long, to be their subjects. Such was their present situation.