Читать книгу The Greek Romances of Heliodorus, Longus and Achilles Tatius - Longus - Страница 10

In this manner, as we have related, were the flames spread over the lake; the conflagration escaped the notice of Theagenes and Cnemon while the sun was above the horizon, the superior lustre of that planet overcoming the blaze; but when it set, when night came on, and the fire had no longer any rival to contend with, it appeared at a distance to their great consternation, as they began to raise themselves out of the morass. Theagenes tearing his hair, thus broke out into passionate exclamations; "May this day be the last of my life; may my fears, cares, and dangers now have an end, and my hopes and love conclude together. Chariclea is no more, and I am undone; in vain, wretch, that I am, have I become a coward, and submitted to an unmanly flight, that I might preserve myself for you, the delight of my life. For you, alas! I live no longer; you have fallen by an untimely death, nor was he on whom you doated present to receive your latest breath; but you are become the prey of flames, and these are the nuptial torches which cruel fate has lighted up for you. All is consumed, and there now remains no trace of the most perfect of human forms: O! most cruel and envious deities! a last embrace is denied me:" and thus lamenting, he felt about for his sword—Cnemon arrested his hand, and cried out, "Why, Theagenes, do you lament her who is safe? Chariclea is alive; be comforted." "Away!" he replied, "this is a tale for children; why do you keep me from the death I long for?" Cnemon swore to the truth of what he had said, told him the orders of Thyamis, described the cave where he had placed Chariclea; and assured him there was not the smallest danger of the flames (cut off as they would be) penetrating through the deep and winding avenues by which she was protected.

Theagenes at these assurances began to recover his spirits, and hastened towards the island, having Chariclea, and a joyful meeting in the cave before his eyes, ignorant, alas! of the woes which awaited him there. They proceeded forwards with great ardour, plying the oars themselves, for their rower had fallen overboard in the confusion of the first flight; they went on with an unsteady course from inexperience in rowing, not able to keep stroke, and the wind being against them; but their ardour overcame their unskilfulness, and with great difficulty at last, and bathed in sweat, they reached the shore, and ran eagerly towards the tents. Of these they saw only the ashes, they having been totally consumed; the stone, however, which formed the threshold and entrance of the cavern, was conspicuous enough; for the huts being built of reeds and such slender materials, were soon consumed and turned into a light ash, which the wind scattering away, left the earth bare in many places for a passage, cooling it at the same time with the blast.

Finding some torches half burnt, and lighting some reeds which remained, they opened the cave's mouth, and under the guidance of Cnemon, descended into it. When they had gone a little way, Cnemon suddenly exclaimed, "Ο God! what is this? we are undone, Chariclea is slain;" and flinging his torch on the ground, extinguished it, and falling on his knees, and covering his face with his hands, began to weep. Theagenes threw himself upon the body, and held it a long time in his arms, closely embraced; Cnemon seeing him overwhelmed with this stroke, and fearing when he recovered his senses he would make some attempt upon himself, took away unobserved the sword which hung by his side, and leaving him for a moment, ran out to light his torch. While he was gone, the unhappy lover broke out into mournful and tragic exclamations, "Ο intolerable calamity, and never-to-be-appeased wrath of the gods! what insatiable demon thus rages to my destruction? who, after having driven me from my country through a thousand dangers of seas and pirates, having delivered me up to marauders, and stript me of all I had, when one only comfort was left me, has now deprived me of that! Chariclea is no more, she lies slain by a violent death; doubtless, she has fallen in defence of her chastity, determined to preserve herself unspotted for my sake. In vain has her beauty bloomed both for herself and me; but, Ο my love! have not you one last word left to speak to me? Are life and breath for ever gone? Alas! you are silent; that mouth, formerly the interpreter of the will of heaven, is dumb, and darkness and destruction have overwhelmed the priestess of the gods. Those eyes glance no more whose lustre dazzled all beholders, whose brightness, if your murderer had met, he could not have executed his purpose; what shall I call you, my wife? but we were not married; my contracted spouse? but the contract has been a fruitless one; let me call you by the sweetest of all appellations, Chariclea. Ο Chariclea! if, where you are, you are capable of receiving comfort, be comforted; you have a faithful lover; we shall soon meet again; behold, I sacrifice myself to your Manes, to you I pour out my own blood in libations;[1] this cavern, a rude sepulchre, shall retain both our bodies; we shall be united in our deaths, though fate forbade it in our lives." Saying this, he felt for his sword, and not finding it, "Ο Cnemon," he exclaimed, "you have undone me, and Chariclea too, for the second time depriving her shade of the company it desires." While he was thus speaking, a voice from the windings of the cave was heard, calling Theagenes; he, not in the least alarmed, replied, "I come, my dearest life; your soul, I see, still hovers above the earth, partly, perhaps, because unwilling to leave that body, from which it has by violence been expelled; and partly, because[2] wanting the rites of sepulture, you may be refused admittance in the shades below." Cnemon now approached with the torch; again the voice was heard, calling Theagenes; Cnemon instantly exclaimed, "Ye gods! is not this the voice of Chariclea? Theagenes, I think she is safe, for the sound seems to me to proceed from that very part of the cavern where I know I left her."—"Will you never cease attempting to deceive me," replied Theagenes?—"I am much deceived myself," replied the other, "if we find this corpse which lies before us to be that of Chariclea;" and stooping down to examine the countenance, "O heavens!" he cried out, "what do I see? the face of Thisbe!" and starting back, he stood petrified with astonishment. Theagenes, on the contrary, now began to recover his spirits, and in his turn supported and encouraged Cnemon, who was ready to faint; and besought him that he would lead him instantly to Chariclea; Cnemon, by degrees coming to himself, again examined the body, which really was that of Thisbe; he knew, too, by its hilt, the sword which Thyamis from rage and haste had left sticking in the wound. He perceived also a tablet appearing out of her bosom; he took it, and was beginning to read what was written upon it; but Theagenes would not suffer him, and earnestly entreated him, if all he saw was not the illusion of some demon, that he would take him to Chariclea; you may afterwards, said he, read this tablet. Cnemon obeyed; and, taking up the tablet and the sword, hastened towards Chariclea. She, creeping on hands and knees towards the sound of their voices as well as she could, at length saw the light, flew to Theagenes, and hung upon his neck. And mutually exclaiming, "And are you restored to me, my dear Theagenes?"—"Do you live,[3] sweetest Chariclea?" they fell in each others' arms upon the ground; their voices murmuring and themselves dying away. So much does a sudden rush of joy overpower the human faculties, and excess of pleasure passes into pain. Thus these lovers, unexpectedly preserved, seemed again in danger, till Cnemon, observing a little water in a cleft of the rock, took it up in the hollow of his hand, and sprinkling it over their faces and nostrils, they came by degrees to themselves. But when they discovered their situation, lying on the ground in each other's arms, they rose immediately, and blushing a little, especially Chariclea, began to make excuses to Cnemon. He, smiling, turned the matter into pleasantry.

"You will not find a severe censor in me," said he; "whoever is but moderately acquainted with the passion of love, will easily forgive its excesses. But there is one part of your conduct, Theagenes, which I cannot approve of—indeed I was ashamed to see it—when you fell down, and bewailed in so lamentable a manner a foreign woman, and one of no good character, while I was all the time assuring you, that she, whom you professed to love best, was alive and near you."—"Have done, Cnemon," he replied; "do not traduce me to Chariclea. You know I lamented her, under the person of another; but since the kind gods have shewn me that I was in an error, pray call to mind a little your own fortitude. You joined your tears, at first, with mine; but when you recognized the body which lay before you, you started as from a demon on the stage, you in armour, and with a sword, from a woman; you, a Grecian warrior, from a corpse!"

This raillery drew a short and forced smile from them, mingled with tears; for such was their calamitous situation, that grief and thought soon overpowered this gleam of cheerfulness. A short silence ensued; when Chariclea[4] gently moving her finger upon her cheek under the ear, exclaimed, "I shall always esteem her blest, whoever she be, for whom Theagenes is concerned; but, if you do not think that love makes me too inquisitive, I should be glad to know who is this happy damsel who has been thought worthy of his tears; and by what error he could take a stranger for me."—"You will wonder when you hear," replied Theagenes. "Cnemon affirms, that these are the remains of Thisbe, the Athenian singer, the plotter against him and Demæneta."—"How," said the astonished Chariclea, "could she be brought here, from the middle of Greece to the extremity of Egypt, like a deity in a tragedy?[5] and how could she be concealed from us at our entrance?"—"As to that, I am as much at a loss about it as you can be," said Cnemon; "all I know of her adventures is this: After the tragical end of Demæneta, my father laid before the people what had happened. They pitied and pardoned him; and he was earnestly employed in soliciting my recall. Thisbe made use of the leisure she had upon her hands; and at different entertainments set her musical skill and her person to sale.

"She[6] now received more favour from the public than Arsinoë, who grew careless in practising her talents; while Thisbe shewed greater perfection, both in voice and execution. But she was not aware that by this she had excited the inextinguishable envy of a courtezan. This was increased by her having seduced Nausicles, a rich merchant of Naucratium, formerly a lover of Arsinoë; but who had left her on pretence of being disgusted with the distortions of her eyes and countenance, while she was playing on the flute. Anger and jealousy raging in her bosom, she went to the relations of Demæneta, and discovered to them the snare which Thisbe had laid for their kinswoman; partly from her own conjectures, and partly from what Thisbe had told her. Their anger, however, fell first upon my father; and they engaged the most skilful counsel to accuse him to the people, as if he had put Demæneta to death without trial or conviction; and had made use of the adultery only as a pretext for her murder; and loudly called upon him to produce the adulterer, or at least to name him; they concluded by insisting that Thisbe should be put to the torture. My father readily agreed to this, but she was not to be found; for, upon the first stirring of the matter, she had taken flight with her merchant. The people, angry at her escape, were in an ill humour to hear the defence of the accused. They did not indeed convict him of the murder, but found him guilty of being concerned in the contrivance against Demæneta, and of my unjust banishment. They exiled him from the city, and fined him to the amount of the greatest part of his fortune. Such were the fruits of his second marriage.

"The wretched Thisbe, whose punishment I now see before me, sailed safe from Athens: this is all I know about her, and this I had from Anticles at Ægina. I sailed with him to Egypt in hopes of finding Thisbe at Naucratium, that I might bring her back to Athens, and clear my father from the suspicions and accusations he laboured under, and procure her to be justly punished for her crimes against us. What I have since undergone you shall hear at a more convenient season; let us now examine into the cause of the tragedy which is here presented to us. But how Thisbe came into this cavern, and how she has been murdered in it, must be explained to us, I believe, by some deity, for it passes human comprehension; let us examine, however, the tablet that was found in her bosom; perhaps that will give us some information." With this he took it, and began to read as follows:

"Thisbe, formerly his enemy, but now his avenger, to her master, Cnemon:

"In the first place I inform you of the death of Demæneta, brought about on your account by my means; how it happened, if you will admit me to your presence, I will relate to you in person. I have been ten days on this island, having been made captive by one of the robbers, who boasts that he is lieutenant to the chief, and keeps me closely confined—as he says, out of love; as I suppose, lest I should be taken from him. By the kindness of the gods, I have seen and recognized you, and send this tablet to you privately by an old woman who waits upon me, commanding her to deliver it to a handsome Greek, a favourite of the chief. Deliver me from the power of these pirates, and receive to yourself your handmaid; and, if you can prevail upon yourself, preserve her; knowing that in what I acted against you I was compelled, but the revenging you of your enemy was my own voluntary act. But, if you still feel an inextinguishable resentment against me, satiate it as you please; only let me be in your hands, even if I am to die by them; I prefer death from you, and to have the rites of my country performed over my remains, to a life that is more dreadful than death; and to the love of a barbarian, more odious to me than the hatred of a Greek."—This was the contents of the tablet.

"O Thisbe," said Cnemon, "the gods have wisely ordained your death; and that you should become, even after your slaughter, the relater of your calamities; the Fury[7] who has driven you through the world, has not ceased her avenging pursuit, till she has made me, whom you have injured, even in Egypt, a spectator of your punishment. But what accident is it which has stopped your career, while perhaps this letter of yours was only the forerunner of some new practice against me? for I cannot help suspecting you even now that you are dead. I fear lest the account of Demæneta's death should be a fiction; lest those who have informed me of it should have deceived me; lest you should have crossed the seas with a design to renew in Egypt the tragedies you have acted against me in Attica."—"Ο you courageous fellow!" cries out Theagenes, "will you never cease to terrify yourself with shades and fancies? You cannot pretend that she has bewitched me, at any rate, for I have had no part in the drama; assure yourself that no harm can arise to you from this dead corpse, and pluck up your spirits: but who has been so far your benefactor as to slay your enemy, and how and when she descended here, I am utterly at a loss to imagine."—"As to the matter in general I am so too," replied Cnemon; "but he who slew her was certainly Thyamis, as I conjecture from the sword which was found near the body; I know it to be his, by the ivory hilt carved into the form of an eagle."—"But can you conjecture," said the other, "how, and when, and for what cause, he committed this murder?"—"How should I know that?" he answered. "This cavern has not had the virtue of inspiring me, like that of Delphi or Trophonius."

The mention of Delphi seemed to agitate Theagenes, and drew tears from Chariclea; they repeated the name with great emotion. Cnemon was surprised, and could not conceive why they were so affected by it. In this manner they were engaged in the cave. Meanwhile Thermuthis, the lieutenant of Thyamis, after he had been wounded and had got to land in the manner we have related, when night came on, hastened towards the cavern in search of Thisbe; for he it was who had placed her there. He had some days before taken her by force from the merchant Nausicles in a narrow mountain pass. On the tumult and attack which soon after ensued, when he was sent by Thyamis in search of a victim, he let her down into this cavern, that she might be out of the reach of danger, and in his hurry and confusion left her near the entrance of it. Here she remained out of fear, and ignorance of the winding passages which led to the bottom; and here Thyamis found and killed her by mistake for Chariclea. Thermuthis proceeded on his way to Thisbe. Upon reaching the island he hastened to the tents; these he found in ashes: and having with some difficulty discovered the entrance of the cavern, by means of the stone covering, he lighted a handful of reeds which yet remained there, and hastened to descend into it.

He called Thisbe by her name, in Greek; but when he saw her lying dead at his feet, he stood motionless with horror and surprise. At length he heard a murmur and distant sound of voices issuing from the hollow recesses of the cave; for Theagenes and Cnemon were still conversing together.

These he concluded to be the murderers of Thisbe, and was in doubt what he should do; for as was natural in a ferocious pirate, his rage, raised to the highest pitch by this disappointment of his desires, urged him to rush at once upon the supposed authors of it; but his want of arms made him unwillingly more cautious. He concluded therefore that it was best at first not to present himself as an enemy, but if by any means he could possess himself of arms, then to attack them on a sudden. With this design he advanced towards Theagenes, throwing wild and fierce glances around him, and discovering in his looks the purpose of his heart.

They were surprised at the sudden appearance of a stranger, almost naked, wounded, and with his face bloody. Chariclea, startled and ashamed, retired into the inmost part of the cave. Cnemon too drew a little back, knowing Thermuthis, seeing him unexpectedly, and fearing that he came there on no good account. But Theagenes was more irritated than terrified, and presenting the point of his sword, called out, "Stand where you are, or you shall receive another wound; thus far I spare you, because I know your face, and am not sure of your designs."—Thermuthis stretched out his unarmed hands, and besought his compassion; forced, notwithstanding his rugged temper, from the circumstance he was in, to become a supplicant. He called on Cnemon for assistance, and said he deserved help from him, having never injured him; having lived with him as a comrade, and coming now as a friend. Cnemon was moved by his entreaties; raised him from the knees of Theagenes which he had embraced, and eagerly inquired where was Thyamis. The latter related all he knew—how his leader had attacked the enemy; how he had rushed into the midst of the battle, sparing neither his foes nor himself; the slaughter he made of them; and the protection which the proclamation to take him alive afforded him. He mentioned his own wound and escape, but knew nothing of his captain's fate; and was come here in search of Thisbe. They inquired how he became so interested about Thisbe; and how she came into his possession. He told them everything: how he had taken her from a merchant; how he fell violently in love with her, and had concealed her some time in his tent, and at the approach of the attacking party had placed her in the cave where he now saw her slain; that he was perfectly ignorant of the authors of her death, but would most gladly find them out if he could, and ascertain their motive.

Cnemon, eager to free himself from suspicion, told him it was certainly Thyamis who slew her; and shewed him the sword which was found beside her; which, when Thermuthis saw, still reeking with blood, and warm from the wound, and knew it to have belonged to Thyamis, he uttered a deep groan, still more perplexed how to account for the accident, and in dumb gloomy astonishment moved towards the mouth of the cave. Here throwing himself upon the bosom of the deceased, he embraced the body, and repeating nothing but the name of Thisbe, fainter by degrees and fainter, oppressed with grief and fatigue, sunk at last into a sleep.

The remainder of the company in the cave began now to consult what steps it was proper for them to pursue. But the multitude of their past calamities, the pressure of the present misfortunes, and the uncertainty of what might happen to them, obscured the light, and weakened the force, of their reason. Each looked at the other, expecting him to say something; and being disappointed, turned his eyes to the ground; and raising them again, sighed, lightening a little his grief by this expression of it. At length Cnemon sat down on the ground; Theagenes threw himself on a rock, and Chariclea reclined upon him. In this posture they a long time resisted the attacks of sleep, desirous, if they could, to devise some scheme of action; but, overcome at last with grief and fatigue, they unwillingly yielded to the law of nature, and fell into a sweet slumber from the very excess of sorrow. Thus is the intelligent soul obliged sometimes to sympathise with the affections of the body.

When sleep had for a little while just weighed their eye-lids down, the following vision appeared to Chariclea. A man with his hair in disorder, a downcast look, and bloody hands, seemed to come and thrust out her right eye with a sword. She instantly cried out, and called upon Theagenes. He was soon awakened, and felt for her uneasiness, though it was only in a dream. She lifted her hand to her face, as if in search of the part she had lost, and then exclaimed, "It was a dream; my eye is safe!"—"I am glad," replied Theagenes, "that those bright sunbeams are uninjured. But what has ailed you? how came you so terrified?"—"A savage and violent man," says she, "not fearing even your valour, attacked me with a sword as I lay at your feet; and, as I thought, deprived me of my right eye; and would that it had been a reality and not a vision!"—"Now Heaven forefend! why do you make so shocking a wish?"—"Because I would much rather lose one of my eyes than be under apprehensions for you; for I greatly fear that the dream regards you, whom I esteem as my eyes, my soul, my all."—"Cease," called out Cnemon (who had heard all that had passed, having been awakened by the first exclamation of Chariclea), "for I think the vision has another interpretation. Had you any parents living when you left Greece?"—"I had," she replied.—"Believe then now that your father is dead. I form my conjecture from hence: Our parents are the authors of our being; therefore they may properly enough in a dream be shadowed out under the similitude of eyes, the organs of light, which convey to us things visible."

"The loss of my father," replied Chariclea, "would be a heavy blow; but let even your interpretation be the true one, rather mine. I consent to pass for a false prophet!"—"Be it so," replied Cnemon; "but we are indeed dreaming, while we are examining fancies and visions, and forget to apply ourselves to our real business, especially while the absence of the Egyptian (meaning Thermuthis), who is employed in lamenting his deceased love, gives us an opportunity."—"Ο Cnemon," said Theagenes, "since some god has joined you to us, and made you a partaker in our calamities, do you advise us what to do, for you are acquainted with the country and language; and we, oppressed with a greater weight of misfortunes, are less fit for counsel."

"Which of us has the greater load of misfortunes to struggle with, is by no means clear," said Cnemon. "I have my full share of them; but, however, as I am the elder, and you command me to speak, I will obey you. The island where we are, you see, is desolate, and contains none but ourselves. Of gold, silver, and precious garments, plundered from you and others, and heaped together by the pirates, there is plenty; but of food and other necessaries, it is totally destitute. If we stay here, we are in danger of perishing by famine, or of being destroyed by some of the invaders, or by the buccaneers, if, knowing of the treasures which are left here, they return again in search of them. There will then be no escape; either we shall perish, or be exposed to their violence and insults. They are always a faithless race, and will now be more disorderly and dreadful, having lost their chief. We must fly, therefore, from this place, as from a snare and a prison, sending Thermuthis away first, if we can, under pretext of inquiring after Thyamis, for we shall be more at liberty to consult and act by ourselves. It is prudent, too, to remove from us a man of an unconstant temper, of savage manners, and who, besides, suspects us on account of the death of Thisbe, and probably only waits for an opportunity to commit some violence against us."

The advice of Cnemon was approved of; and they determined to follow it; and moving towards the mouth of the cave, the day now beginning to dawn, they roused Thermuthis, who was still sunk in sleep; and telling him as much as they thought proper of their design, easily persuaded a fickle-minded man. They then took the body of Thisbe, drew it into a hollow of the rock, covered it as well as they could with ashes from the tents, and performed what funeral rites the time and place would admit of, supplying what was deficient by tears and lamentations.

They next proceeded to send out Thermuthis on the expedition they had projected for him. He set out, but soon returned, declaring he would not go alone, nor expose himself to the danger of so perilous a search, unless Cnemon would bear him company. Theagenes, observing that this proposal was by no means agreeable to Cnemon, who betrayed evident marks of fear and apprehension when informed of it, said to him, "You are valiant in council, Cnemon, but a laggard in action; you have shown this more than once; pluck up your spirits, and prove yourself a man. It is necessary that this fellow should have no suspicion, at present, of our design to leave him. Seem to agree, therefore, to what he proposes, and go with him at first; for there is no danger to be apprehended from an unarmed man, especially by you who are armed. You may take your opportunity, and leave him privately, and come to us at some place which we shall fix upon; and we will, if you please, mention some neighbouring town, if you know any, where the inhabitants are a little civilized."

Cnemon agreed to this, and named Chemmis, a rich and populous place, situated on a rising ground on the banks of the Nile, by way of defence against the incursions of the pirates, about one hundred furlongs distant from the lake directly south. "I fear," said Theagenes, "that Chariclea will find some difficulty in getting thither, as she is unused to walking; however, we will attempt it, and pretend that we are beggars who seek our living by showing juggling tricks."

"Truly," said Cnemon, "your faces are sufficiently disfigured for such a business, particularly Chariclea's, who has just lost an eye; after all, though, I fear you will rather appear guests for the table than petitioners for scraps at the door."[8]—This sally was received with a forced and languid smile, which played only on the lips. They then prepared to depart, swearing never to desert each other, and calling the gods to witness it.

Cnemon and Thermuthis set out early in the morning; and, crossing the lake, took their way through a thick and difficult wood. Thermuthis went first, at the persuasion of Cnemon, on the pretext that, as he was acquainted with the country, he was better qualified to lead; in reality, that the other might more easily find an opportunity of deserting him. They met with some flocks in their way; and the shepherds fled, at their approach, into the thickest of the wood. They seized a ram, roasted him at a fire the shepherds had lighted, and hardly staying till it was sufficiently dressed, devoured the flesh with eagerness. Hunger pressed them; they fell upon it like wolves; swallowed whole pieces, just warmed through, and still dropping with blood. When they had satisfied their hunger, and allayed their thirst with milk, they pursued their way. Evening now approached, and they were ascending a hill under which was situated a town, where Thermuthis said it was very probable that Thyamis was either detained a captive or had been slain. Here Cnemon pretended that he felt great pain; that his stomach was exceedingly disordered by his inordinate repast of meat and drink, and that he must retire to ease it. This he did two or three times, that his companion might suspect nothing, and complained that it was with great difficulty he could follow him. When he had accustomed the Egyptian to his staying behind, he took an opportunity at last to let him go on forwards farther than usual; and then, turning suddenly back, he ran down the hill as fast as he could into the thickest part of the bushes. Thermuthis, when he had arrived at the summit, sat himself down on a rock, expecting the approach of night, which they had agreed to wait for before they entered into the town to inquire after Thyamis. He looked about for his companion, having no good designs against him, for he was still persuaded that he had slain Thisbe, and was considering how he might serve him in the same manner; proposing afterwards to attack Theagenes. But when Cnemon appeared nowhere, and night advanced, he fell asleep—a deadly[9] and last sleep it proved to him, for an asp, which had lain concealed in a thicket, bit him, and put a fitting end to his life.

But Cnemon, after he had left Thermuthis, stopped not in his flight till the darkness of the night obliged him to make a halt. He then endeavoured to conceal himself by lying down and covering himself as well as he could with leaves. Here he passed a restless and almost sleepless night, taking every noise, every gust of wind, and motion of a leaf, for Thermuthis. If at any time he dropped into a slumber, he thought he was fleeing;[10] and looking behind, imagined he saw him pursuing, who was now unable to follow him; till at last he resisted all approaches of sleep, his dreams becoming more dreadful to him than even his waking apprehensions.

He was uneasy at the duration of the night, which appeared to him the longest he had ever spent. At length, to his great joy, day appeared. He[11] then proceeded to cut his hair short, which he had suffered to grow, in imitation of, and to recommend himself to, his piratical companions, for the pirates, willing to render themselves as formidable as they can, among other things, cherish long hair, which they suffer to grow down their foreheads, and play over their shoulders, well knowing that flowing locks, as they make the lover more amiable, so they render the warrior more terrible. When Cnemon, therefore, had shaped his hair into the common form, he proceeded to Chemmis, where he had appointed to meet Theagenes. As he drew near the Nile, and was preparing to pass over it to Chemmis, he perceived an old man wandering upon its banks, walking several times up and down the stream, as if he were communicating his cares to the river. His locks were as white as snow, and shaped like those of a priest; his beard flowing and venerable; his habit Grecian. Cnemon stopped a little; but when the old man passed by many times, seemingly unconscious that any one was near (so entirely was he immersed in care and meditation), he placed himself before him, and, in the Grecian manner of salutation, bid him be of good cheer.[12] The other replied, his fortunes were such that good cheer was out of the question. Cnemon, surprised, asked: "Are you a stranger from Greece, or from whence?"—"I am neither a Grecian nor a stranger," said he, "but an Egyptian of this country."—"Why, then, have you a Grecian dress?"—"My misfortunes," says he, "have put me into this splendid habit." The other, wondering how misfortunes could improve a man's appearance, and seeming desirous to be informed—"You carry me into a 'tale of Troy divine,'"[13] replied the old man; "and a swarm of evils, the recital of which would oppress you. But whence do you come, Ο young man, and whither are you going? and how come I to hear the Greek tongue in Egypt?"—"It is a little unreasonable in you," replied Cnemon, "to ask these questions of me, you who will tell nothing about yourself, though I made the first inquiries."—"I admit it," said the other; "but do not be offended. You seem to be a Greek, and to have yourself undergone some transformation from the hand of fortune. You are desirous to hear my adventures; I am no less so to relate them. Probably I had told them to these reeds, as the fable[14] goes, if I had not met with you. But let us leave the Nile and its banks; for a situation exposed to the meridian sun is not a proper place for a long narration. If you have no urgent business which hinders you, let us go to the town which you see opposite to us. I will entertain you, not in my own house, but in that of a good man who received me when I implored his protection. There you may listen to my story, and in your turn relate your own."—"With all my heart," said Cnemon, "for I myself was going to this town to wait for some friends of mine, whom I had appointed to meet there." Getting, therefore, into a boat, many of which were lying by the river's side, to transport passengers, they crossed over into the town, and arrived at the house where the stranger was lodged. The master of the house was not at home; but his daughter, a marriageable maiden, received them with great cheerfulness, and the servants waited upon the old man as if he had been their father, most probably by their master's orders. One washed his feet, and wiped off the dust from under his knees; another got ready his bed, and strewed it with soft coverings; a third brought an urn, and filled it with fire; a fourth prepared the table, and spread it with bread and various kinds of fruit.

Cnemon, wondering at their alacrity, exclaimed, "We have certainly got into the house of Jove the Hospitable,[15] such is the attention and singular benevolence with which we are received."—"You have not got into the habitation of Jove," replied the other, "but into that of a man who exactly imitates his hospitable and charitable qualities: for his life[16] has been a mercantile and wandering one; he has seen many cities, and observed the manners of many nations; he is naturally therefore inclined to compassionate the stranger, and receive the wanderer, as he did me not many days ago."—"And how came you to be a wanderer, father?"—"Being deprived," said he, "of my children by robbers; knowing those who had injured me, but unable to contend with them; I roam about this spot, mourning and sorrowing; not unlike a bird whose nest a serpent[17] has made desolate, and is devouring her young before her eyes. She is afraid to approach, yet cannot bear to desert them; terror and affection struggle within her; she flies mournfully round the scene of her calamities, pouring in vain her maternal complaints into ears deaf to her waitings and strangers to mercy."—"Will you then relate," said Cnemon, "when and how you encountered this grievous war of woe?"—"By-and-bye," he replied; "but let us now attend to our craving stomach; which, because it considers itself of more consequence than any other organ, is called by Homer destructive.[18] And first, as is the custom of the Egyptian sages, let us make a libation to the gods. Nothing shall make me omit this; nor shall grief ever so entirely possess my mind, as to render me forgetful of what I owe to heaven." With this he poured pure water out of the vase, and said, "I make this libation to the gods of this country, and those of Greece; to the Pythian Apollo, and also to Theagenes and Chariclea, the good and beautiful, since I reckon them also among the gods:" and then he wept, as if he were making another libation to them with his tears. Cnemon, greatly struck at what he heard, viewed the old man from head to foot, and exclaimed, "What do you say? Are Theagenes and Chariclea really your children?"—"They are my children," replied the stranger, "but born to me without a mother. Fortune, by the permission of the gods, gave them to me; I brought them forth with the travail of my soul. My great inclination towards them supplied the place of nature; and I have been esteemed by them, and called their father. But tell me, how came you acquainted with them?"—"I am not only acquainted with them," said Cnemon, "but can assure you that they are alive and well."—"Ο Apollo, and all the gods!" he exclaimed, "where are they? Tell me, I beseech you; and you will be my preserver and equal to the gods!"—"But what shall be my reward?" replied the other.—"At present that of obliging me; no mean reward to a wise man: I know many who have laid up this as a treasure in their hearts. But if we arrive in my country, which, if I may believe the tokens of the gods, will ere long be, your utmost desires shall be satisfied with wealth."

"You promise me," said Cnemon, "things uncertain and future, when you have it in your power to reward me immediately."—"Show me anything I can now do for you," said the old man, "for I would willingly part even with a limb to satisfy you."—"Your limbs need be in no danger," replied the Grecian; "I shall be satisfied if you will relate to me from whence these strangers come, who were their parents, how they were brought here, and what have been their adventures."—"You shall have a treat," replied the old man; "so great as to be second to none other, not even if you should obtain all earthly treasures. But let us now take a little food; for my narration and your listening will take up a considerable time."

When they had eaten, therefore, some nuts and figs, and fresh-gathered dates, and such other things as the old man was used to feed upon (for he never deprived any animal of life for his own nourishment), he drank a little water, and Cnemon some wine; and, after a short pause, the latter said: "You know, Ο father, that Bacchus delights in convivial conversations and stories; and as I am now under his influence, I am very desirous of hearing some, and I claim from you my promised reward: it is time to bring your piece upon the stage, as the saying goes."—"You shall be satisfied," replied the stranger: "but I wish the good Nausicles were here, who has often earnestly desired to hear this detail from me, and as often, on some pretext or other, has been put off."—At the name of Nausicles, Cnemon asked where he was. "He is gone a hunting," replied the other.—"And after what kind of game?"—"Why, not indeed of wild beasts, but of men as savage as they, who are called buccaneers, who live by robbery, who are very difficult to be taken, and lurk in marshes, caverns, and lakes."—"What offence have they given him?"—"They have taken his mistress from him, an Athenian girl, whom he called Thisbe."—"Ah!" said Cnemon, in a tone of surprise, and immediately stopped, as if checking himself.—"What ails you?" said the old man.—The other, evading the question, proceeded, "I wonder with what forces he means to attack them?"—"Oroondates, viceroy of Egypt, under the Great King, has appointed Mithranes commandant of this town; Nausicles, by means of a large sum of money, has prevailed upon him to march with a body of horse and foot against them; for he is exceedingly annoyed at the loss of this Grecian girl; not only because he liked her himself, and because she was well skilled in music; but because he was going to take her with him to the king of Ethiopia, by way of attendant upon the queen, as he said, and to amuse her after the Grecian fashion. Being deprived, therefore, as he supposes, by her loss, of a great reward which he expected for her, he is using his utmost efforts to recover her. I encouraged him too to this expedition, thinking it possible he might find and recover my children also." "Enough of buccaneers, and viceroys, and kings," cried out Cnemon, impatiently; "your discourse is wandering from the point I aim at. This episode[19] has nothing to do with the main plot; come back to the performance of your promise; you are like the Pharian Proteus;[20] not turning indeed into false and fleeting shapes, but trying to slip away from me."—"Be satisfied," said the old man, "you shall know all. I will explain to you first what relates to myself, shortly, and without reserve; which will be a proper introduction to that which is to follow.

"I am a citizen of Memphis. The name of my father was Calasiris, as is likewise mine. Though now a wanderer, I was not long ago a high priest. I had a wife, but have now lost her; after her death I lived for some time quietly, delighting myself with two sons whom she had left me. But in a few years, the fated revolution of the heavenly bodies altered every thing; the eye of Saturn scowled upon my family, and portended a change in my fortunes for the worse. I had skill enough to foresee the ills which threatened me, but not to avoid them; for no foresight can enable us to escape the immutable decrees of fate: it is, however, an advantage, to have some foreknowledge of them, as it blunts the violence of the stroke. Unexpected misfortunes, my son, are intolerable; those which are foreseen are more easily borne: the mind is confused and disarmed by sudden fear; custom and reason strengthen it. My calamities began in this manner:

"A Thracian woman, in the bloom of youth and in beauty second only to Chariclea, whose name was Rhodope, unfortunately for those who became acquainted with her, travelled through Egypt. In her progress[21] she came in 'revel-rout' to Memphis, with great luxury and pomp of attendance, and adorned with every grace, and exercising all the arts of love. It was almost impossible to see her, and not fall into her snares; such irresistible witchery accompanied the eyes of this fair[22] harlot. She frequently came into the temple of Isis, where I officiated as high priest. She worshipped the goddess with sacrifices and costly offerings. I am ashamed to proceed; yet I will not conceal the truth. The frequent sight of her overcame me at last, in spite of the command I had long been accustomed to maintain over my passions. I struggled long against my bodily eyes and the eyes of my fancy, but in vain; I yielded at last, and sank under the dominion of love. I perceived that the arrival of this woman was to be the beginning of those misfortunes which the heavens foretold to me; and that my evil genius was to make her one of the principal instruments of them. I determined, however, to do nothing to disgrace that office of priesthood which had descended to me from my ancestors, nor to profane the altars and temples of the gods: and as to the transgression which my evil stars had determined I should fall into, not in act, indeed (heaven forbid!) but in desire; I constituted reason my judge, and made her impose the penalty of exile from my native land, yielding to the necessity of fate, submitting to its decrees, and flying from the ill-omened Rhodope. For I will own to you, Ο stranger! that I was afraid, lest, under the present baleful influence of the constellations, I might be tempted to do something unbecoming my character. Another, and a principal reason for my absenting myself, was, on account of my children; for my skill in divination shewed me that they were in a short time to contend with each other in arms.

"Snatching myself away, therefore, from a spectacle so dreadful to a father's eyes (sufficient to turn aside the aspect of the sun, and make him hide his beams), I departed from my country, from my house, and family, making no one acquainted with the course I intended to take, but pretending that I was going to Egyptian Thebes, to see my eldest son Thyamis, who was there on a visit to his grandfather."—Cnemon started again at the name of Thyamis; but restrained himself, and was silent, desirous to hear the sequel. The old man, after observing—

"I pass over the intermediate part of my journey, for it has no relation to what you desire to know," thus proceeded: "But having heard that there was a famous city in Greece, called Delphi, sacred to Apollo, abounding in temples, the resort of wise men, retired, and free from popular tumults; thither I bent my steps, thinking that a city destined for sacred rites was a proper retreat for one of my profession. I sailed through the Crissæan gulf, and landing at Cirrha, proceeded to the city: when I entered it, a voice, no doubt divine, sounded in my ears; and as in other respects this place seemed a fit habitation for a superior race, so particularly on account of its situation. The mountain Parnassus hangs over it, as a kind of natural fortification and citadel, stretching out its sides, and receiving the city into its bosom." "Your description is most graphic, cried out Cnemon, "and seems really made under the influence of the Pythic inspiration; for in this manner I remember well my father described Delphi, when he returned from the council of the Amphictyons, to which the city of Athens had deputed him as sacred secretary."[23]—"You are an Athenian then, my son?"—"Yes."—"Your name?"—Cnemon."—"What have been your fortunes?"—"You shall hear by-and-bye. Now however continue your own narration."—"I will," replied the old man.

"I ascended into the place, I admired the city of race-courses, of market-places, and of fountains, especially the famed one of Castalia, with the water of which I sprinkled myself, and hastened to the temple; for the thronging of the multitude, which pressed towards it, seemed to announce the time when the priestess was about to be under the sacred impulse;[24] and having worshipped and uttered a petition for myself, I received the following oracle:

Thou from the fertile Nile, thy course dost bend,[25] Pause here awhile, and sojourn as my friend: Stern fate thou fly'st, her strokes with courage bear; Ere long of Egypt thou shalt have a share.

"As soon as the priestess had pronounced this, I fell upon my face, and besought the deity to be propitious to me in everything. The crowd who surrounded the shrine, joined in praising the deity for having deigned to answer me on my first entreaty; they congratulated me, and paid me great respect, saying, that I seemed to be the greatest favourite with the deity who had appeared there since Lycurgus,[26] a Spartan. They permitted me at my request to inhabit the precincts of the temple, and passed a decree that I should be maintained at the public expense. My situation, in short, was a very agreeable one; I either assisted at the ceremonies and sacrifices which were every day performed and offered by strangers as well as natives, or conversed with the philosophers, for many of this description flocked to Delphi. The city[27] is in truth a university, inspired by the deity who presides over inspiration and the muses. Various subjects were discussed; sometimes the manner of our religious rites in Egypt, and why certain animals were counted sacred more than others; and the different histories which belonged to each. Another inquired about the construction of the Pyramids and the Catacombs.[28] In short, there was nothing relative to Egypt which they did not scrutinize into; for it is wonderful how the Greeks listen to, and are delighted with, accounts of that country. At length one among the more accomplished of them touched upon the Nile, its fountains, and inundations, wondering why it alone, of all rivers, should in the summer time swell and overflow. I told them what I knew on that subject, which I had gathered from the sacred books which the priests alone are permitted to consult. I related how it had its rise on the south-east confines of Libya and Ethiopia; that it increased in the summer, not because its waters, as some supposed, were driven back by the Etesian[29] winds, but because these winds, about the time of the summer solstice, drive the clouds before them from the northern into the southern parts, which are by this means collected in the torrid zone, where their farther motion is stopped by the extreme vehemence of the heat. They are then condensed, and pressed by degrees, till they dissolve, and fall in copious showers. These swell the river till it disdains its banks, and, bursting over Egypt like a sea, fertilizes the plains it overflows. Its waters are very sweet to drink, as they are furnished by the rains from heaven; they are not hot to the touch as they are higher up, but nevertheless are tepid; they exhale no vapours like other rivers, which they certainly would do, if (as some learned Grecians suppose) their rise was owing to the melting of the snows.

"While I was discoursing in this manner, one of the priests of Apollo, whose name was Charicles, with whom I had contracted some intimacy, said, 'I am pleased with what you say, and agree with you entirely, for I have heard the same account of this matter from the priests at the cataracts of the Nile.'—'And have you been as far as there,' said I?—'I have,' he replied.—'On what account?'—'On occasion of some family misfortunes, which, however, at last became the course of my happiness.' When I expressed some surprize at this, 'You would not wonder,' said he, 'if you were to hear the whole matter as it happened; and you may hear it whenever you please.'—'I should be very glad to hear it at once,' said I.—'Attend then,' said Charicles; 'for I have long, and from an interested motive, wished for an opportunity of relating my story to you:'—and, dismissing the general company, he began as follows:

"'I had been married a considerable time without having children;[30] I wearied the gods with supplications; and at last, in an advanced stage of life, I became the father of a little daughter, but who was born, as the gods foretold, not under auspicious destiny. She became marriageable, and had many suitors. I married her to him whom I thought most worthy of her; and on the very wedding night she was burnt in her bed, her apartment having been set on fire either by accident or lightning. The hymeneal song, which was still resounding, was turned into a dirge: she was carried from the marriage apartment to her grave; and the torches, which had illuminated the nuptial procession, now lighted the funeral pile.

"'My evil genius added yet another calamity to this tragedy, and took from me the mother of my child, who sank under her sorrows.

"'Such a series of misfortunes was almost too much for me. It was with difficulty I abstained from laying violent hands upon myself; I had however strength of mind sufficient to refrain from an action which the teachers of religion pronounce unlawful. But being unable to bear the solitude and silence of my house, I left my country, for to deaden memory by turning the eyes upon new objects is a great palliative to grief. I wandered into various parts, and came at last into your Egypt, and to Caladupa,[31] in order to visit the cataracts of the Nile: this, my friend, was the occasion of my coming into your country, which you inquired after. I must now proceed to a digression, though it more properly forms the principal reason of my entering at all into this narration.

"'While I was wandering at leisure through the city, and buying some things of the Greeks (for time having now considerably alleviated my grief, I thought of returning into my country), I was accosted by a middle-aged man, with the complexion of an Ethiopian, but of a grave deportment, and bearing marks of prudence in his aspect: he saluted me, and in broken Greek said he wished to speak to me. I readily consenting, he took me into a neighbouring temple, and said: "I saw you cheapening some Indian, Ethiopian, and Egyptian roots and herbs; if you really have a desire to buy some, I can furnish you."—"I shall be very glad to see them," I replied.—"You must not beat me down too much," said he.—"Do not then be too exorbitant on your part," was my answer.—With that he pulled a small pouch from a pocket under his arm, and showed me some jewels of inestimable value: there were pearls as big as nuts, perfectly round, and of the purest white; emeralds and amethysts—the former as green as the vernal corn, and shining with a kind of oily lustre; the latter resembling the colour of the sea-beach, when played upon by the shadows of an overhanging rock, which impart to it a purple tinge.[32] The mingled brilliancy of the whole collection astonished and delighted my eyes.

"'After having contemplated them for some time, I said, "You must seek some other purchaser; my whole fortune would scarcely be sufficient to procure one of these gems."—"But if you cannot buy them," he replied, "you may receive them as a present."—"Certainly! but why are you jesting with me?"—"I am not jesting with you, I am serious in what I say; and I swear to you by the deity whose shrine we are before, that I will give you everything which I have shown you, if, in addition to these, you will receive from my hands a present far more precious than all which you behold."—I could not help smiling: he asked the cause of it.—"Because it seems to me ridiculous," said I, "that when you promise me gifts of such price, you should besides make me expect a present still more valuable."—"Nevertheless, believe me," he replied, "and swear to me that you will use my gift well, and in the manner which I shall exact from you."—I wondered and doubted, but at last swore to him, allured by the hopes of such treasures. When I had taken such an oath as he required, he conducted me to his house, and showed me a girl of wonderful and more than mortal beauty: He affirmed she was but seven years old; but she appeared to me to be almost of a marriageable age, so much did her uncommon beauty seem to add even to her stature. I stood for some time motionless, ignorant of what was to follow, and ravished with the sight before me; when my conductor thus addressed me:

"'"The child whom you behold, Ο stranger, was exposed, when an infant, by her mother, and left at the mercy of fortune, for a reason which you shall hear by-and-bye. It happened luckily that I found, and took her up; for I could not allow myself to desert in its danger a soul which had once entered a human body: in so doing I should have transgressed the precepts of our Gymnosophists,[33] of whom I had been privileged to be a disciple. Something, too, uncommon and divine, seemed to beam from the eyes of the infant, which were cast upon me with sparkling yet engaging lustre. There was exposed with her this profusion of jewels which I have shown you. There was a silken fillet, on which was written some account of the child, in letters of her native country; her mother, I suppose, taking care to place these explanations with her. When I had read it, and knew from whence and whose the infant was, I took her to a farm at a distance from the city, and placed her in the hands of shepherds to be nourished, enjoining them to keep her as private as possible. I myself kept the jewels which were exposed with her, lest they might tempt any one to destroy the child. The whole transaction remained for a while a secret; but, in process of time, as she grew up and increased more than commonly in stature and in beauty (so much so, indeed, that her charms would not have been concealed even in the bowels of the earth), fearing some discovery to her prejudice, and that I, too, might come into some trouble about her: I procured myself to be sent ambassador into Egypt. I came here: I brought the girl with me, being very desirous of placing her in some secure situation. The viceroy of this country has appointed to give me audience to-day: meanwhile I deliver up to you, and to the gods, the disposers of all events, this child; trusting that you will observe the conditions you have sworn to; that you will preserve her free, as you have received her, and marry her to a free man. I confide in your performing all you have promised; not depending alone on your oaths, but on your disposition and general conduct, which I have observed for the many days which you have spent in this city, and which I see to be truly worthy of Greece, that renowned country to which you owe your birth. This is all I can say to you at present, as the business of my embassy calls me; but, if you will meet me at the temple of Isis to-morrow, you shall have a more particular and exact account of your charge."

"'I did as I was desired. I took the girl home with me to my house: I treated her with respect and tenderness, giving thanks to the gods for the event; and from that time calling and esteeming her as my daughter. The next morning I hastened to the temple of Isis, where the stranger had appointed me; and after I had walked about and waited a considerable time, and saw nothing of him, I went to the palace of the viceroy, and inquired if any one had seen the Ethiopian ambassador. I was there told that he had left the city, or rather had been driven out of it, the evening before,—the viceroy threatening him with death if he did not immediately quit the province. When I inquired into the cause of so sudden a proceeding, I learned that he had, with some haughtiness, forbidden the governor to meddle with the emerald mines, which he claimed as belonging exclusively to Ethiopia. I returned home vexed and disappointed, as I was by this accident prevented from knowing the condition, the country, and parents of the child.'"