[Day the Tenth]
SOPHRONIA, THINKING TO MARRY GISIPPUS, BECOMETH THE WIFE OF
TITUS QUINTIUS FULVUS AND WITH HIM BETAKETH HERSELF TO ROME,
WHITHER GISIPPUS COMETH IN POOR CASE AND CONCEIVING HIMSELF
SLIGHTED OF TITUS, DECLARETH, SO HE MAY DIE, TO HAVE SLAIN A
MAN. TITUS, RECOGNIZING HIM, TO SAVE HIM, AVOUCHETH HIMSELF
TO HAVE DONE THE DEED, AND THE TRUE MURDERER, SEEING THIS,
DISCOVERETH HIMSELF; WHEREUPON THEY ARE ALL THREE LIBERATED
BY OCTAVIANUS AND TITUS, GIVING GISIPPUS HIS SISTER TO WIFE,
HATH ALL HIS GOOD IN COMMON WITH HIM
Pampinea having left speaking and all having commended King Pedro, the
Ghibelline lady more than the rest, Fiammetta, by the king's
commandment, began thus, "Illustrious ladies, who is there knoweth not
that kings, when they will, can do everything great and that it is, to
boot, especially required of them that they be magnificent? Whoso,
then, having the power, doth that which pertaineth unto him, doth
well; but folk should not so much marvel thereat nor exalt him to such
a height with supreme praise as it would behove them do with another,
of whom, for lack of means, less were required. Wherefore, if you with
such words extol the actions of kings and they seem to you fair, I
doubt not anywise but those of our peers, whenas they are like unto or
greater than those of kings, will please you yet more and be yet
highlier commended of you, and I purpose accordingly to recount to
you, in a story, the praiseworthy and magnanimous dealings of two
citizens and friends with each other.
You must know, then, that at the time when Octavianus Cæsar (not yet
styled Augustus) ruled the Roman empire in the office called
Triumvirate, there was in Rome a gentleman called Publius Quintius
Fulvus,[461] who, having a son of marvellous understanding, by name
Titus Quintius Fulvus, sent him to Athens to study philosophy and
commended him as most he might to a nobleman there called Chremes, his
very old friend, by whom Titus was lodged in his own house, in company
of a son of his called Gisippus, and set to study with the latter,
under the governance of a philosopher named Aristippus. The two young
men, coming to consort together, found each other's usances so
conformable that there was born thereof a brotherhood between them and
a friendship so great that it was never sundered by other accident
than death, and neither of them knew weal nor peace save in so much as
they were together. Entering upon their studies and being each alike
endowed with the highest understanding, they ascended with equal step
and marvellous commendation to the glorious altitudes of philosophy;
and in this way of life they continued good three years, to the
exceeding contentment of Chremes, who in a manner looked upon the one
as no more his son than the other. At the end of this time it befell,
even as it befalleth of all things, that Chremes, now an old man,
departed this life, whereof the two young men suffered a like sorrow,
as for a common father, nor could his friends and kinsfolk discern
which of the twain was the more in need of consolation for that which
had betided them.
[Footnote 461: Sic, _Publio Quinzio Fulvo_; but _quære_ should it not
rather be _Publio Quinto Fulvio_, _i.e._ Publius Quintus Fulvius, a
form of the name which seems more in accordance with the genius of the
Latin language?]
It came to pass, after some months, that the friends and kinsfolk of
Gisippus resorted to him and together with Titus exhorted him to take
a wife, to which he consenting, they found him a young Athenian lady
of marvellous beauty and very noble parentage, whose name was
Sophronia and who was maybe fifteen years old. The term of the future
nuptials drawing nigh, Gisippus one day besought Titus to go visit her
with him, for that he had not yet seen her. Accordingly, they being
come into her house and she seated between the twain, Titus proceeded
to consider her with the utmost attention, as if to judge of the
beauty of his friend's bride, and every part of her pleasing him
beyond measure, what while he inwardly commended her charms to the
utmost, he fell, without showing any sign thereof, as passionately
enamoured of her as ever yet man of woman. After they had been with
her awhile, they took their leave and returned home, where Titus,
betaking himself alone into his chamber, fell a-thinking of the
charming damsel and grew the more enkindled the more he enlarged upon
her in thought; which, perceiving, he fell to saying in himself, after
many ardent sighs, 'Alack, the wretchedness of thy life, Titus! Where
and on what settest thou thy mind and thy love and thy hope? Knowest
thou not that it behoveth thee, as well for the kindness received from
Chremes and his family as for the entire friendship that is between
thee and Gisippus, whose bride she is, to have yonder damsel in such
respect as a sister? Whom, then, lovest thou? Whither lettest thou
thyself be carried away by delusive love, whither by fallacious hope?
Open the eyes of thine understanding and recollect thyself, wretch
that thou art; give place to reason, curb thy carnal appetite, temper
thine unhallowed desires and direct thy thoughts unto otherwhat;
gainstand thy lust in this its beginning and conquer thyself, whilst
it is yet time. This thou wouldst have is unseemly, nay, it is
dishonourable; this thou art minded to ensue it behoveth thee, even
wert thou assured (which thou art not) of obtaining it, to flee from,
an thou have regard unto that which true friendship requireth and that
which thou oughtest. What, then, wilt thou do, Titus? Thou wilt leave
this unseemly love, an thou wouldst do that which behoveth.'
Then, remembering him of Sophronia and going over to the contrary, he
denounced all that he had said, saying, 'The laws of love are of
greater puissance than any others; they annul even the Divine laws,
let alone those of friendship; how often aforetime hath father loved
daughter, brother sister, stepmother stepson, things more monstrous
than for one friend to love the other's wife, the which hath already a
thousand times befallen! Moreover, I am young and youth is altogether
subject to the laws of Love; wherefor that which pleaseth Him, needs
must it please me. Things honourable pertain unto maturer folk; I can
will nought save that which Love willeth. The beauty of yonder damsel
deserveth to be loved of all, and if I love her, who am young, who can
justly blame me therefor? I love her not because she is Gisippus's;
nay, I love her for that I should love her, whosesoever she was. In
this fortune sinneth that hath allotted her to Gisippus my friend,
rather than to another; and if she must be loved, (as she must, and
deservedly, for her beauty,) Gisippus, an he came to know it, should
be better pleased that I should love her, I, than another.' Then, from
that reasoning he reverted again to the contrary, making mock of
himself, and wasted not only that day and the ensuing night in passing
from this to that and back again, but many others, insomuch that,
losing appetite and sleep therefor, he was constrained for weakness to
take to his bed.
Gisippus, having beheld him several days full of melancholy thought
and seeing him presently sick, was sore concerned and with every art
and all solicitude studied to comfort him, never leaving him and
questioning him often and instantly of the cause of his melancholy and
his sickness. Titus, after having once and again given him idle tales,
which Gisippus knew to be such, by way of answer, finding himself e'en
constrained thereunto, with tears and sighs replied to him on this
wise, 'Gisippus, had it pleased the Gods, death were far more a-gree
to me than to live longer, considering that fortune hath brought me to
a pass whereas it behoved me make proof of my virtue and that I have,
to my exceeding shame, found this latter overcome; but certes I look
thereof to have ere long the reward that befitteth me, to wit, death,
and this will be more pleasing to me than to live in remembrance of my
baseness, which latter, for that I cannot nor should hide aught from
thee, I will, not without sore blushing, discover to thee.' Then,
beginning from the beginning, he discovered to him the cause of his
melancholy and the conflict of his thoughts and ultimately gave him to
know which had gotten the victory and confessed himself perishing for
love of Sophronia, declaring that, knowing how much this misbeseemed
him, he had for penance thereof resolved himself to die, whereof he
trusted speedily to make an end.
Gisippus, hearing this and seeing his tears, abode awhile irresolute,
as one who, though more moderately, was himself taken with the charms
of the fair damsel, but speedily bethought himself that his friend's
life should be dearer to him than Sophronia. Accordingly, solicited to
tears by those of his friend, he answered him, weeping, 'Titus, wert
thou not in need as thou art of comfort, I should complain of thee to
thyself, as of one who hath transgressed against our friendship in
having so long kept thy most grievous passion hidden from me; since,
albeit it appeared not to thee honourable, nevertheless dishonourable
things should not, more than honourable, be hidden from a friend; for
that a friend, like as he rejoiceth with his friend in honourable
things, even so he studieth to do away the dishonourable from his
friend's mind; but for the present I will refrain therefrom and come
to that which I perceive to be of greater urgency. That thou lovest
Sophronia, who is betrothed to me, I marvel not: nay, I should
marvel, indeed, if it were not so, knowing her beauty and the nobility
of thy mind, so much the more susceptible of passion as the thing that
pleaseth hath the more excellence. And the more reason thou hast to
love Sophronia, so much the more unjustly dost thou complain of
fortune (albeit thou expressest this not in so many words) in that it
hath awarded her to me, it seeming to thee that thy love for her had
been honourable, were she other than mine; but tell me, if thou be as
well advised as thou usest to be, to whom could fortune have awarded
her, whereof thou shouldst have more cause to render it thanks, than
of having awarded her to me? Whoso else had had her, how honourable
soever thy love had been, had liefer loved her for himself[462] than
for thee,[463] a thing which thou shouldst not fear[464] from me, an
thou hold me a friend such as I am to thee, for that I mind me not,
since we have been friends, to have ever had aught that was not as
much thine as mine. Now, were the matter so far advanced that it might
not be otherwise, I would do with her as I have done with my other
possessions;[465] but it is yet at such a point that I can make her
thine alone; and I will do so, for that I know not why my friendship
should be dear to thee, if, in respect of a thing that may honourably
be done, I knew not of a desire of mine to make thine. True it is that
Sophronia is my promised bride and that I loved her much and looked
with great joyance for my nuptials with her; but, since thou, being
far more understanding than I, with more ardour desirest so dear a
thing as she is, live assured that she shall enter my chamber, not as
my wife, but as thine. Wherefore leave thought-taking, put away
melancholy, call back thy lost health and comfort and allegresse and
from this time forth expect with blitheness the reward of thy love,
far worthier than was mine.'
[Footnote 462: Or "his" (_a sè_).]
[Footnote 463: Or "thine" (_a te_).]
[Footnote 464: Lit. "hope" (_sperare_). See note, p. 5.]
[Footnote 465: _i.e._ I would have her in common with thee.]
When Titus heard Gisippus speak thus, the more the flattering hopes
given him of the latter afforded him pleasure, so much the more did
just reason inform him with shame, showing him that, the greater was
Gisippus his liberality, the more unworthy it appeared of himself to
use it; wherefore, without giving over weeping, he with difficulty
replied to him thus, 'Gisippus, thy generous and true friendship very
plainly showeth me that which it pertaineth unto mine to do. God
forfend that her, whom He hath bestowed upon thee as upon the
worthier, I should receive from thee for mine! Had He judged it
fitting that she should be mine, nor thou nor others can believe that
He would ever have bestowed her on thee. Use, therefore, joyfully,
thine election and discreet counsel and His gifts, and leave me to
languish in the tears, which, as to one undeserving of such a
treasure, He hath prepared unto me and which I will either overcome,
and that will be dear to thee, or they will overcome me and I shall be
out of pain.' 'Titus,' rejoined Gisippus, 'an our friendship might
accord me such license that I should enforce thee to ensue a desire of
mine and if it may avail to induce thee to do so, it is in this case
that I mean to use it to the utmost, and if thou yield not to my
prayers with a good grace, I will, with such violence as it behoveth
us use for the weal of our friends, procure that Sophronia shall be
thine. I know how great is the might of love and that, not once, but
many a time, it hath brought lovers to a miserable death; nay, unto
this I see thee so near that thou canst neither turn back nor avail to
master thy tears, but, proceeding thus, wouldst pine and die;
whereupon I, without any doubt, should speedily follow after. If,
then, I loved thee not for otherwhat, thy life is dear to me, so I
myself may live. Sophronia, therefore, shall be thine, for that thou
couldst not lightly find another woman who would so please thee, and
as I shall easily turn my love unto another, I shall thus have
contented both thyself and me. I should not, peradventure, be so free
to do this, were wives as scarce and as uneath to find as friends;
however, as I can very easily find me another wife, but not another
friend, I had liefer (I will not say _lose_ her, for that I shall not
lose her, giving her to thee, but shall transfer her to another and a
better self, but) transfer her than lose thee. Wherefore, if my
prayers avail aught with thee, I beseech thee put away from thee this
affliction and comforting at once thyself and me, address thee with
good hope to take that joyance which thy fervent love desireth of the
thing beloved.'
Although Titus was ashamed to consent to this, namely, that Sophronia
should become his wife, and on this account held out yet awhile,
nevertheless, love on the one hand drawing him and Gisippus his
exhortations on the other urging him, he said, 'Look you, Gisippus, I
know not which I can say I do most, my pleasure or thine, in doing
that whereof thou prayest me and which thou tellest me is so pleasing
to thee, and since thy generosity is such that it overcometh my just
shame, I will e'en do it; but of this thou mayst be assured that I do
it as one who knoweth himself to receive of thee, not only the beloved
lady, but with her his life. The Gods grant, an it be possible, that I
may yet be able to show thee, for thine honour and thy weal, how
grateful to me is that which thou, more pitiful for me than I for
myself, dost for me!' These things said, 'Titus,' quoth Gisippus, 'in
this matter, an we would have it take effect, meseemeth this course is
to be held. As thou knowest, Sophronia, after long treaty between my
kinsfolk and hers, is become my affianced bride; wherefore, should I
now go about to say that I will not have her to wife, a sore scandal
would ensue thereof and I should anger both her kinsfolk and mine own.
Of this, indeed, I should reck nothing, an I saw that she was thereby
to become thine; but I misdoubt me that, an I renounce her at this
point, her kinsfolk will straightway give her to another, who belike
will not be thyself, and so wilt thou have lost that which I shall not
have gained. Wherefore meseemeth well, an thou be content, that I
follow on with that which I have begun and bring her home as mine and
hold the nuptials, and thou mayst after, as we shall know how to
contrive, privily lie with her as with thy wife. Then, in due place
and season, we will make manifest the fact, which, if it please them
not, will still be done and they must perforce be content, being
unable to go back upon it.'
The device pleased Titus; wherefore Gisippus received the lady into
his house, as his, (Titus being by this recovered and in good case,)
and after holding high festival, the night being come, the ladies left
the new-married wife in her husband's bed and went their ways. Now
Titus his chamber adjoined that of Gisippus and one might go from the
one room into the other; wherefore Gisippus, being in his chamber and
having put out all the lights, betook himself stealthily to his friend
and bade him go couch with his mistress. Titus, seeing this, was
overcome with shame and would fain have repented and refused to go;
but Gisippus, who with his whole heart, no less than in words, was
minded to do his friend's pleasure, sent him thither, after long
contention. Whenas he came into the bed, he took the damsel in his
arms and asked her softly, as if in sport, if she chose to be his
wife. She, thinking him to be Gisippus, answered, 'Yes'; whereupon he
set a goodly and rich ring on her finger, saying, 'And I choose to be
thy husband.' Then, the marriage consummated, he took long and amorous
pleasance of her, without her or others anywise perceiving that other
than Gisippus lay with her.
The marriage of Sophronia and Titus being at this pass, Publius his
father departed this life, wherefore it was written him that he should
without delay return to Rome, to look to his affairs, and he
accordingly took counsel with Gisippus to betake himself thither and
carry Sophronia with him; which might not nor should aptly be done
without discovering to her how the case stood. Accordingly, one day,
calling her into the chamber, they thoroughly discovered to her the
fact and thereof Titus certified her by many particulars of that which
had passed between them twain. Sophronia, after eying the one and the
other somewhat despitefully, fell a-weeping bitterly, complaining of
Gisippus his deceit; then, rather than make any words of this in his
house, she repaired to that of her father and there acquainted him and
her mother with the cheat that had been put upon her and them by
Gisippus, avouching herself to be the wife of Titus and not of
Gisippus, as they believed. This was exceeding grievous to Sophronia's
father, who made long and sore complaint thereof to her kinsfolk and
those of Gisippus, and much and great was the talk and the clamour by
reason thereof. Gisippus was held in despite both by his own kindred
and those of Sophronia and every one declared him worthy not only of
blame, but of severe chastisement; whilst he, on the contrary,
avouched himself to have done an honourable thing and one for which
thanks should be rendered him by Sophronia's kinsfolk, having married
her to a better than himself.
Titus, on his part, heard and suffered everything with no little annoy
and knowing it to be the usance of the Greeks to press on with
clamours and menaces, till such times as they found who should answer
them, and then to become not only humble, but abject, he bethought
himself that their clamour was no longer to be brooked without reply
and having a Roman spirit and an Athenian wit, he adroitly contrived
to assemble Gisippus his kinsfolk and those of Sophronia in a temple,
wherein entering, accompanied by Gisippus alone, he thus bespoke the
expectant folk: 'It is the belief of many philosophers that the
actions of mortals are determined and foreordained of the immortal
Gods, wherefore some will have it that all that is or shall ever be
done is of necessity, albeit there be others who attribute this
necessity to that only which is already done. If these opinions be
considered with any diligence, it will very manifestly be seen that to
blame a thing which cannot be undone is to do no otherwhat than to
seek to show oneself wiser than the Gods, who, we must e'en believe,
dispose of and govern us and our affairs with unfailing wisdom and
without any error; wherefore you may very easily see what fond and
brutish overweening it is to presume to find fault with their
operations and eke how many and what chains they merit who suffer
themselves be so far carried away by hardihood as to do this. Of whom,
to my thinking, you are all, if that be true which I understand you
have said and still say for that Sophronia is become my wife, whereas
you had given her to Gisippus, never considering that it was
foreordained from all eternity that she should become not his, but
mine, as by the issue is known at this present. But, for that to speak
of the secret foreordinance and intention of the Gods appeareth unto
many a hard thing and a grievous to apprehend, I am willing to suppose
that they concern not themselves with aught of our affairs and to
condescend to the counsels[466] of mankind, in speaking whereof, it
will behove me to do two things, both very contrary to my usances, the
one, somedele to commend myself, and the other, in some measure to
blame or disparage others; but, for that I purpose, neither in the one
nor in the other, to depart from the truth and that the present matter
requireth it, I will e'en do it.
[Footnote 466: Or "arguments" (_consigli_).]
Your complainings, dictated more by rage than by reason, upbraid,
revile and condemn Gisippus with continual murmurs or rather clamours,
for that, of his counsel, he hath given me to wife her whom you of
yours[467] had given him; whereas I hold that he is supremely to be
commended therefor, and that for two reasons, the one, for that he
hath done that which a friend should do, and the other, for that he
hath in this wrought more discreetly than did you. That which the
sacred laws of friendship will that one friend should do for the
other, it is not my intention at this present to expound, being
content to have recalled to you this much only thereof, to wit, that
the bonds of friendship are far more stringent than those of blood or
of kindred, seeing that the friends we have are such as we choose for
ourselves and our kinsfolk such as fortune giveth us; wherefore, if
Gisippus loved my life more than your goodwill, I being his friend, as
I hold myself, none should marvel thereat. But to come to the second
reason, whereanent it more instantly behoveth to show you that he hath
been wiser than yourselves, since meseemeth you reck nothing of the
foreordinance of the Gods and know yet less of the effects of
friendship:--I say, then, that you of your judgment, of your counsel
and of your deliberation, gave Sophronia to Gisippus, a young man and
a philosopher; Gisippus of his gave her to a young man and a
philosopher; your counsel gave her to an Athenian and that of Gisippus
to a Roman; your counsel gave her to a youth of noble birth and his to
one yet nobler; yours to a rich youth, his to a very rich; yours to a
youth who not only loved her not, but scarce knew her, his to one who
loved her over his every happiness and more than his very life. And to
show you that this I say is true and that Gisippus his action is more
commendable than yours, let us consider it, part by part. That I, like
Gisippus, am a young man and a philosopher, my favour and my studies
may declare, without more discourse thereof. One same age is his and
mine and still with equal step have we proceeded studying. True, he is
an Athenian and I am a Roman. If it be disputed of the glory of our
native cities, I say that I am a citizen of a free city and he of a
tributary one; I am of a city mistress of the whole world and he of a
city obedient unto mine; I am of a city most illustrious in arms, in
empery and in letters, whereas he can only commend his own for
letters. Moreover, albeit you see me here on lowly wise enough a
student, I am not born of the dregs of the Roman populace; my houses
and the public places of Rome are full of antique images of my
ancestors and the Roman annals will be found full of many a triumph
led by the Quintii up to the Roman Capitol; nor is the glory of our
name fallen for age into decay, nay, it presently flourisheth more
splendidly than ever. I speak not, for shamefastness, of my riches,
bearing in mind that honourable poverty hath ever been the ancient and
most ample patrimony of the noble citizens of Rome; but, if this be
condemned of the opinion of the vulgar and treasures commended, I am
abundantly provided with these latter, not as one covetous, but as
beloved of fortune.[468] I know very well that it was and should have
been and should be dear unto you to have Gisippus here in Athens to
kinsman; but I ought not for any reason to be less dear to you at
Rome, considering that in me you would have there an excellent host
and an useful and diligent and powerful patron, no less in public
occasions than in matters of private need.
[Footnote 467: _i.e._ of your counsel.]
[Footnote 468: _i.e._ my riches are not the result of covetous
amassing, but of the favours of fortune.]
Who then, letting be wilfulness and considering with reason, will
commend your counsels above those of my Gisippus? Certes, none.
Sophronia, then, is well and duly married to Titus Quintius Fulvus, a
noble, rich and long-descended citizen of Rome and a friend of
Gisippus; wherefore whoso complaineth or maketh moan of this doth not
that which he ought neither knoweth that which he doth. Some perchance
will say that they complain not of Sophronia being the wife of Titus,
but of the manner wherein she became his wife, to wit, in secret and
by stealth, without friend or kinsman knowing aught thereof; but this
is no marvel nor thing that betideth newly. I willingly leave be those
who have aforetime taken husbands against their parents' will and
those who have fled with their lovers and have been mistresses before
they were wives and those who have discovered themselves to be married
rather by pregnancy or child-bearing than with the tongue, yet hath
necessity commended it to their kinsfolk; nothing of which hath
happened in Sophronia's case; nay, she hath orderly, discreetly and
honourably been given by Gisippus to Titus. Others will say that he
gave her in marriage to whom it appertained not to do so; but these be
all foolish and womanish complaints and proceed from lack of
advisement. This is not the first time that fortune hath made use of
various means and strange instruments to bring matters to foreordained
issues. What have I to care if it be a cordwainer rather than a
philosopher, that hath, according to his judgment, despatched an
affair of mine, and whether in secret or openly, provided the issue be
good? If the cordwainer be indiscreet, all I have to do is to look
well that he have no more to do with my affairs and thank him for that
which is done. If Gisippus hath married Sophronia well, it is a
superfluous folly to go complaining of the manner and of him. If you
have no confidence in his judgment, look he have no more of your
daughters to marry and thank him for this one.
Nevertheless I would have you to know that I sought not, either by art
or by fraud, to impose any stain upon the honour and illustriousness
of your blood in the person of Sophronia, and that, albeit I took her
secretly to wife, I came not as a ravisher to rob her of her
maidenhead nor sought, after the manner of an enemy, whilst shunning
your alliance, to have her otherwise than honourably; but, being
ardently enkindled by her lovesome beauty and by her worth and knowing
that, had I sought her with that ordinance which you will maybe say I
should have used, I should not (she being much beloved of you) have
had her, for fear lest I should carry her off to Rome, I used the
occult means that may now be discovered to you and caused Gisippus, in
my person, consent unto that which he himself was not disposed to do.
Moreover, ardently as I loved her, I sought her embraces not as a
lover, but as a husband, nor, as she herself can truly testify, did I
draw near to her till I had first both with the due words and with the
ring espoused her, asking her if she would have me for husband, to
which she answered ay. If it appear to her that she hath been
deceived, it is not I who am to blame therefor, but she, who asked me
not who I was. This, then, is the great misdeed, the grievous crime,
the sore default committed by Gisippus as a friend and by myself as a
lover, to wit, that Sophronia hath secretly become the wife of Titus
Quintius, and this it is for which you defame and menace and plot
against him. What more could you do, had he bestowed her upon a churl,
a losel or a slave? What chains, what prison, what gibbets had
sufficed thereunto?
But let that be for the present; the time is come which I looked not
for yet, to wit, my father is dead and it behoveth me return to Rome;
wherefore, meaning to carry Sophronia with me, I have discovered to
you that which I should otherwise belike have yet kept hidden from you
and with which, an you be wise, you will cheerfully put up, for that,
had I wished to cheat or outrage you, I might have left her to you,
scorned and dishonored; but God forfend that such a baseness should
ever avail to harbour in a Roman breast! She, then, namely Sophronia,
by the consent of the Gods and the operation of the laws of mankind,
no less than by the admirable contrivance of my Gisippus and mine own
amorous astuteness, is become mine, and this it seemeth that you,
holding yourselves belike wiser than the Gods and than the rest of
mankind, brutishly condemn, showing your disapproval in two ways both
exceedingly noyous to myself, first by detaining Sophronia, over whom
you have no right, save in so far as it pleaseth me to allow it, and
secondly, by entreating Gisippus, to whom you are justly beholden, as
an enemy. How foolishly you do in both which things I purpose not at
this present to make farther manifest to you, but will only counsel
you, as a friend, to lay by your despites and altogether leaving your
resentments and the rancours that you have conceived, to restore
Sophronia to me, so I may joyfully depart your kinsman and live your
friend; for of this, whether that which is done please you or please
you not, you may be assured that, if you offer to do otherwise, I will
take Gisippus from you and if I win to Rome, I will without fail,
however ill you may take it, have her again who is justly mine and
ever after showing myself your enemy, will cause you know by
experience that whereof the despite of Roman souls is capable.'
Titus, having thus spoken, rose to his feet, with a countenance all
disordered for anger, and taking Gisippus by the hand, went forth of
the temple, shaking his head threateningly and showing that he recked
little of as many as were there. The latter, in part reconciled by his
reasonings to the alliance and desirous of his friendship and in part
terrified by his last words, of one accord determined that it was
better to have him for a kinsman, since Gisippus had not willed it,
than to have lost the latter to kinsman and gotten the former for an
enemy. Accordingly, going in quest of Titus, they told him that they
were willing that Sophronia should be his and to have him for a dear
kinsman and Gisippus for a dear friend; then, having mutually done
each other such honours and courtesies as beseem between kinsmen and
friends, they took their leaves and sent Sophronia back to him. She,
like a wise woman, making a virtue of necessity, readily transferred
to Titus the affection she bore Gisippus and repaired with him to
Rome, where she was received with great honour.
Meanwhile, Gisippus abode in Athens, held in little esteem of well
nigh all, and no great while after, through certain intestine
troubles, was, with all those of his house, expelled from Athens, in
poverty and misery, and condemned to perpetual exile. Finding himself
in this case and being grown not only poor, but beggarly, he betook
himself, as least ill he might, to Rome, to essay if Titus should
remember him. There, learning that the latter was alive and high in
favour with all the Romans and enquiring for his dwelling-place, he
stationed himself before the door and there abode till such time as
Titus came, to whom, by reason of the wretched plight wherein he was,
he dared not say a word, but studied to cause himself be seen of him,
so he might recognize him and let call him to himself; wherefore
Titus passed on, [without noting him,] and Gisippus, conceiving that
he had seen and shunned him and remembering him of that which himself
had done for him aforetime, departed, despiteful and despairing. It
being by this night and he fasting and penniless, he wandered on,
unknowing whither and more desirous of death than of otherwhat, and
presently happened upon a very desert part of the city, where seeing a
great cavern, he addressed himself to abide the night there and
presently, forspent with long weeping, he fell asleep on the naked
earth and ill in case. To this cavern two, who had gone a-thieving
together that night, came towards morning, with the booty they had
gotten, and falling out over the division, one, who was the stronger,
slew the other and went away. Gisippus had seen and heard this and
himseemed he had found a way to the death so sore desired of him,
without slaying himself; wherefore he abode without stirring, till
such time as the Serjeants of the watch, who had by this gotten wind
of the deed, came thither and laying furious hands of him, carried him
off prisoner. Gisippus, being examined, confessed that he had murdered
the man nor had since availed to depart the cavern; whereupon the
prætor, who was called Marcus Varro, commanded that he should be put
to death upon the cross, as the usance then was.
Now Titus was by chance come at that juncture to the prætorium and
looking the wretched condemned man in the face and hearing why he had
been doomed to die, suddenly knew him for Gisippus; whereupon,
marvelling at his sorry fortune and how he came to be in Rome and
desiring most ardently to succour him, but seeing no other means of
saving him than to accuse himself and thus excuse him, he thrust
forward in haste and cried out, saying, 'Marcus Varro, call back the
poor man whom thou hast condemned, for that he is innocent. I have
enough offended against the Gods with one crime, in slaying him whom
thine officer found this morning dead, without willing presently to
wrong them with the death of another innocent.' Varro marvelled and it
irked him that all the prætorium should have heard him; but, being
unable, for his own honour's sake, to forbear from doing that which
the laws commanded, he caused bring back Gisippus and in the presence
of Titus said to him, 'How camest thou to be so mad that, without
suffering any torture, thou confessedst to that which thou didst not,
it being a capital matter? Thou declaredst thyself to be he who slew
the man yesternight, and now this man cometh and saith that it was not
thou, but he that slew him.'
Gisippus looked and seeing that it was Titus, perceived full well that
he did this to save him, as grateful for the service aforetime
received from him; wherefore, weeping for pity, 'Varro,' quoth he,
'indeed it was I slew him and Titus his solicitude for my safety is
now too late.' Titus on the other hand, said, 'Prætor, do as thou
seest, this man is a stranger and was found without arms beside the
murdered man, and thou mayst see that his wretchedness giveth him
occasion to wish to die; wherefore do thou release him and punish me,
who have deserved it.' Varro marvelled at the insistence of these two
and beginning now to presume that neither of them might be guilty, was
casting about for a means of acquitting them, when, behold, up came a
youth called Publius Ambustus, a man of notorious ill life and known
to all the Romans for an arrant rogue, who had actually done the
murder and knowing neither of the twain to be guilty of that whereof
each accused himself, such was the pity that overcame his heart for
the innocence of the two friends that, moved by supreme compassion, he
came before Varro and said, 'Prætor, my fates impel me to solve the
grievous contention of these twain and I know not what God within me
spurreth and importuneth me to discover to thee my sin. Know, then,
that neither of these men is guilty of that whereof each accuseth
himself. I am verily he who slew yonder man this morning towards
daybreak and I saw this poor wretch asleep there, what while I was in
act to divide the booty gotten with him whom I slew. There is no need
for me to excuse Titus; his renown is everywhere manifest and every
one knoweth him to be no man of such a condition. Release him,
therefore, and take of me that forfeit which the laws impose on me.'
By this Octavianus had notice of the matter and causing all three be
brought before him, desired to hear what cause had moved each of them
to seek to be the condemned man. Accordingly, each related his own
story, whereupon Octavianus released the two friends, for that they
were innocent, and pardoned the other for the love of them. Thereupon
Titus took his Gisippus and first reproaching him sore for
lukewarmness[469] and diffidence, rejoiced in him with marvellous
great joy and carried him to his house, where Sophronia with tears of
compassion received him as a brother. Then, having awhile recruited
him with rest and refreshment and reclothed him and restored him to
such a habit as sorted with his worth and quality, he first shared all
his treasures and estates in common with him and after gave him to
wife a young sister of his, called Fulvia, saying, 'Gisippus,
henceforth it resteth with thee whether thou wilt abide here with me
or return with everything I have given thee into Achaia.' Gisippus,
constrained on the one hand by his banishment from his native land and
on the other by the love which he justly bore to the cherished
friendship of Titus, consented to become a Roman and accordingly took
up his abode in the city, where he with his Fulvia and Titus with his
Sophronia lived long and happily, still abiding in one house and
waxing more friends (an more they might be) every day.
[Footnote 469: Sic (_tiepidezza_); but _semble_ "timidity" or
"distrustfulness" is meant.]
A most sacred thing, then, is friendship and worthy not only of
especial reverence, but to be commended with perpetual praise, as the
most discreet mother of magnanimity and honour, the sister of
gratitude and charity and the enemy of hatred and avarice, still,
without waiting to be entreated, ready virtuously to do unto others
that which it would have done to itself. Nowadays its divine effects
are very rarely to be seen in any twain, by the fault and to the shame
of the wretched cupidity of mankind, which, regarding only its own
profit, hath relegated it to perpetual exile, beyond the extremest
limits of the earth. What love, what riches, what kinship, what,
except friendship, could have made Gisippus feel in his heart the
ardour, the tears and the sighs of Titus with such efficacy as to
cause him yield up to his friend his betrothed bride, fair and gentle
and beloved of him? What laws, what menaces, what fears could have
enforced the young arms of Gisippus to abstain, in solitary places and
in dark, nay, in his very bed, from the embraces of the fair damsel,
she mayhap bytimes inviting him, had friendship not done it? What
honours, what rewards, what advancements, what, indeed, but
friendship, could have made Gisippus reck not of losing his own
kinsfolk and those of Sophronia nor of the unmannerly clamours of the
populace nor of scoffs and insults, so that he might pleasure his
friend? On the other hand, what, but friendship, could have prompted
Titus, whenas he might fairly have feigned not to see, unhesitatingly
to compass his own death, that he might deliver Gisippus from the
cross to which he had of his own motion procured himself to be
condemned? What else could have made Titus, without the least demur,
so liberal in sharing his most ample patrimony with Gisippus, whom
fortune had bereft of his own? What else could have made him so
forward to vouchsafe his sister to his friend, albeit he saw him very
poor and reduced to the extreme of misery? Let men, then, covet a
multitude of comrades, troops of brethren and children galore and add,
by dint of monies, to the number of their servitors, considering not
that every one of these, who and whatsoever he may be, is more fearful
of every least danger of his own than careful to do away the
great[470] from father or brother or master, whereas we see a friend
do altogether the contrary."
[Footnote 470: _i.e._ perils.]