and laughing tone. "He knows he is longing to see me. Come, my dear
Pandora, lift up the lid. I am in a great hurry to comfort you. Only
let me have some fresh air, and you shall soon see that matters are
not quite so dismal as you think them!"
"Epimetheus," exclaimed Pandora, "come what may, I am resolved to open
the box!"
"And, as the lid seems very heavy," cried Epimetheus, running across
the room, "I will help you!"
So, with one consent, the two children again lifted the lid. Out flew
a sunny and smiling little personage, and hovered about the room,
throwing a light wherever she went. Have you never made the sunshine
dance into dark corners by reflecting it from a bit of looking-glass?
Well, so looked the winged cheerfulness of this fairy-like stranger
amid the gloom of the cottage. She flew to Epimetheus, and laid the
least touch of her finger on the inflamed spot where the Trouble had
stung him, and immediately the anguish of it was gone. Then she kissed
Pandora on the forehead, and her hurt was cured likewise.
After performing these good offices, the bright stranger fluttered
sportively over the children's heads, and looked so sweetly at them
that they both began to think it not so very much amiss to have opened
the box, since, otherwise, their cheery guest must have been kept a
prisoner among those naughty imps with stings in their tails.
"Pray, who are you, beautiful creature?" inquired Pandora.
"I am to be called Hope!" answered the sunshiny figure. "And because I
am such a cheery little body, I was packed into the box to make amends
to the human race for that swarm of ugly Troubles, which was destined
to be let loose among them. Never fear! we shall do pretty well in
spite of them all."
"Your wings are colored like the rainbow!" exclaimed Pandora. "How
very beautiful!"
"Yes, they are like the rainbow," said Hope, "because, glad as my
nature is, I am partly made of tears as well as smiles."
"And you will stay with us," asked Epimetheus, "for ever and ever?"
"As long as you need me," said Hope, with her pleasant smile, "and
that will be as long as you live in the world--I promise never to
desert you. There may be times and seasons, now and then, when you
will think that I have utterly vanished. But again, and again, and
again, when perhaps you least dream of it, you shall see the glimmer
of my wings on the ceiling of your cottage. Yes, my dear children, and
I know something very good and beautiful that is to be given you,
hereafter!"
"Oh, tell us," they exclaimed; "tell us what it is!"
"Do not ask me," replied Hope, putting her finger on her rosy mouth.
"But do not despair, even if it should never happen while you live on
this earth. Trust in my promise, for it is true."
"We do trust you!" cried Epimetheus and Pandora, both in one breath.
And so they did; and not only they, but so has everybody trusted Hope,
that has since been alive. And, to tell you the truth, I cannot help
being glad (though, to be sure, it was an uncommonly naughty thing for
her to do)--but I cannot help being glad that our foolish Pandora
peeped into the box. No doubt--no doubt--the Troubles are still flying
about the world, and have increased in multitude, rather than
lessened, and are a very ugly set of imps, and carry most venomous
stings in their tails. I have felt them already, and expect to feel
them more as I grow older. But then that lovely and lightsome figure
of Hope! What in the world could we do without her? Hope spiritualizes
the earth; Hope makes it always new; and, even in the earth's best and
brightest aspect, Hope shows it to be only the shadow of an infinite
bliss hereafter.
EUROPA AND THE GOD-BULL
BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE
Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix, the three sons of King Agenor, and their
little sister Europa (who was a very beautiful child), were at play
together near the sea-shore in their father's kingdom of Phoenicia.
They had rambled to some distance from the palace where their parents
dwelt, and were now in a verdant meadow, on one side of which lay the
sea, all sparkling and dimpling in the sunshine, and murmuring gently
against the beach. The three boys were very happy gathering flowers
and twining them into garlands, with which they adorned the little
Europa. Seated on the grass, the child was almost hidden under an
abundance of buds and blossoms, whence her rosy face peeped merrily
out, and, as Cadmus said, was the prettiest of all the flowers.
Just then there came a splendid butterfly fluttering along the meadow,
and Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix set off in pursuit of it, crying out
that it was a flower with wings. Europa, who was a little wearied with
playing all day long, did not chase the butterfly with her brothers,
but sat still where they had left her, and closed her eyes. For a
while she listened to the pleasant murmur of the sea, which was like a
voice saying "Hush!" and bidding her go to sleep. But the pretty
child, if she slept at all, could not have slept more than a moment,
when she heard something trample on the grass not far from her, and
peeping out from the heap of flowers, beheld a snow-white bull.
And whence could this bull have come? Europa and her brothers had been
a long time playing in the meadow, and had seen no cattle, nor other
living thing, either there or on the neighboring hills.
"Brother Cadmus!" cried Europa, starting up out of the midst of the
roses and lilies. "Phoenix! Cilix! Where are you all? Help! Help! Come
and drive away this bull!"
But her brothers were too far off to hear, especially as the fright
took away Europa's voice and hindered her from calling very loudly. So
there she stood, with her pretty mouth wide open, as pale as the white
lilies that were twisted among the other flowers in her garlands.
Nevertheless, it was the suddenness with which she had perceived the
bull, rather than anything frightful in its appearance, that caused
Europa so much alarm. On looking at him more attentively, she began to
see that he was a beautiful animal, and even fancied a particularly
amiable expression in his face. As for his breath--the breath of
cattle, you know, is always sweet--it was as fragrant as if he had
been grazing on no other food than rosebuds, or, at least, the most
delicate of clover blossoms. Never before did a bull have such bright
and tender eyes, and such smooth horns of ivory, as this one. And the
bull ran little races, and capered sportively around the child; so
that she quite forgot how big and strong he was, and, from the
gentleness and playfulness of his actions, soon came to consider him
as innocent a creature as a pet lamb.
Thus, frightened as she at first was, you might by and by have seen
Europa stroking the bull's forehead with her small white hand, and
taking the garlands off her own head to hang them on his neck and
ivory horns. Then she pulled up some blades of grass, and he ate them
out of her hand, not as if he were hungry, but because he wanted to be
friends with the child, and took pleasure in eating what she had
touched. Well, my stars! was there ever such a gentle, sweet, pretty,
and amiable creature as this bull, and ever such a nice playmate for a
little girl?
When the animal saw (for the bull had so much intelligence that it is
really wonderful to think of), when he saw that Europa was no longer
afraid of him, he grew overjoyed, and could hardly contain himself for
delight. He frisked about the meadow, now here, now there, making
sprightly leaps, with as little effort as a bird expends in hopping
from twig to twig. Indeed, his motion was as light as if he were
flying through the air, and his hoofs seemed hardly to leave their
print in the grassy soil over which he trod. With his spotless hue, he
resembled a snow-drift wafted along by the wind. Once he galloped so
far away that Europa feared lest she might never see him again; so,
setting up her childish voice, she called him back.
"Come back, pretty creature!" she cried. "Here is a nice clover
blossom."
And then it was delightful to witness the gratitude of this amiable
bull, and how he was so full of joy and thankfulness that he capered
higher than ever. He came running and bowed his head before Europa, as
if he knew her to be a king's daughter, or else recognized the
important truth that a little girl is everybody's queen. And not only
did the bull bend his neck, he absolutely knelt down at her feet, and
made such intelligent nods, and other inviting gestures, that Europa
understood what he meant just as well as if he had put it in so many
words.
"Come, dear child," was what he wanted to say, "let me give you a ride
on my back."
At the first thought of such a thing Europa drew back. But then she
considered in her wise little head that there could be no possible
harm in taking just one gallop on the back of this docile and friendly
animal, who would certainly set her down the very instant she desired
it. And how it would surprise her brothers to see her riding across
the green meadow! And what merry times they might have, either taking
turns for a gallop, or clambering on the gentle creature, all four
children together, and careering round the field with shouts of
laughter that would be heard as far off as King Agenor's palace!
"I think I will do it," said the child to herself.
And, indeed, why not? She cast a glance around, and caught a glimpse
of Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix, who were still in pursuit of the
butterfly, almost at the other end of the meadow. It would be the
quickest way of rejoining them, to get upon the white bull's back. She
came a step nearer to him, therefore; and--sociable creature that he
was--he showed so much joy at this mark of her confidence, that the
child could not find it in her heart to hesitate any longer. Making
one bound (for this little princess was as active as a squirrel),
there sat Europa on the beautiful bull, holding an ivory horn in each
hand lest she should fall off.
"Softly, pretty bull, softly!" she said, rather frightened at what she
had done. "Do not gallop too fast."
Having got the child on his back, the animal gave a leap into the air,
and came down so like a feather that Europa did not know when his
hoofs touched the ground. He then began to race to that part of the
flowery plain where her three brothers were, and where they had just
caught their splendid butterfly. Europa screamed with delight; and
Phoenix, Cilix, and Cadmus stood gaping at the spectacle of their
sister mounted on a white bull, not knowing whether to be frightened,
or to wish the same good luck for themselves. The gentle and innocent
creature (for who could possibly doubt that he was so?) pranced round
among the children as sportively as a kitten. Europa all the while
looked down upon her brothers, nodding and laughing, but yet with a
sort of stateliness in her rosy little face. As the bull wheeled about
to take another gallop across the meadow, the child waved her hand and
said "Good-by," playfully pretending that she was now bound on a
distant journey, and might not see her brothers again for nobody could
tell how long.
"Good-by," shouted Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix, all in one breath.
But, together with her enjoyment of the sport, there was still a
little remnant of fear in the child's heart; so that her last look at
the three boys was a troubled one, and made them feel as if their dear
sister were really leaving them forever. And what do you think the
snowy bull did next? Why, he set off, as swift as the wind, straight
down to the sea-shore, scampered across the sand, took an airy leap,
and plunged right in among the foaming billows. The white spray rose
in a shower over him and little Europa, and fell spattering down upon
the water.
Then what a scream of terror did the poor child send forth! The three
brothers screamed manfully, likewise, and ran to the shore as fast as
their legs would carry them, with Cadmus at their head. But it was too
late. When they reached the margin of the sand, the treacherous animal
was already away in the wide blue sea, with only his snowy head and
tail emerging, and poor little Europa between them, stretching out one
hand towards her dear brothers, while she grasped the bull's ivory
horn with the other. And there stood Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix,
gazing at this sad spectacle through their tears, until they could no
longer distinguish the bull's snowy head from the white-capped billows
that seemed to boil up out of the sea's depth around him. Nothing more
was ever seen of the white bull--nothing more of the beautiful child.
This was a mournful story, as you may well think, for the three boys
to carry home to their parents. King Agenor, their father, was the
ruler of the whole country; but he loved his little daughter Europa
better than his kingdom, or than all his other children, or than
anything else in the world. Therefore, when Cadmus and his two
brothers came crying home, and told him how that a white bull had
carried off their sister, and swam with her over the sea, the king was
quite beside himself with grief and rage. Although it was now
twilight, and fast growing dark, he bade them set out instantly in
search of her.
"Never shall you see my face again," he cried, "unless you bring me
back my little Europa to gladden me with her smiles and her pretty
ways. Begone, and enter my presence no more, till you come leading her
by the hand."
As King Agenor said this his eyes flashed fire (for he was a very
passionate king), and he looked so terribly angry that the poor boys
did not even venture to ask for their suppers, but slunk away out of
the palace, and only paused on the steps a moment to consult whither
they should go first. While they were standing there, all in dismay,
their mother, Queen Telephassa (who happened not to be by when they
told the story to the king), came hurrying after them, and said that
she too would go in quest of her daughter.
"Oh, no, mother!" cried the boys. "The night is dark, and there is no
knowing what troubles and perils we may meet with."
"Alas! my dear children," answered poor Queen Telephassa, weeping
bitterly, "that is only another reason why I should go with you. If I
should lose you too, as well as my little Europa, what would become of
me?"
In this manner they went down the palace steps, and began a journey
which turned out to be a great deal longer than they dreamed of. The
last that they saw of King Agenor, he came to the door, with a servant
holding a torch beside him, and called after them into the gathering
darkness:
"Remember! Never ascend these steps again without the child!"
"Never!" sobbed Queen Telephassa; and the three brothers answered,
"Never! Never! Never! Never!"
And they kept their word. Year after year King Agenor sat in the
solitude of his beautiful palace, listening in vain for their
returning footsteps, hoping to hear the familiar voice of the queen
and the cheerful talk of his sons entering the door together, and the
sweet, childish accents of little Europa in the midst of them. But so
long a time went by that, at last, if they had really come, the king
would not have known that this was the voice of Telephassa, and these
the younger voices that used to make such joyful echoes when the
children were playing about the palace. We must now leave King Agenor
to sit on his throne, and must go along with Queen Telephassa and her
three youthful companions.
They went on and on, and traveled a long way, and passed over
mountains and rivers and sailed over seas. Here and there, and
everywhere, they made continual inquiry if any person could tell them
what had become of Europa. The rustic people, of whom they asked this
question, paused a little while from their labors in the field, and
looked very much surprised. They thought it strange to behold a woman
in the garb of a queen (for Telephassa, in her haste, had forgotten to
take off her crown and her royal robes) roaming about the country,
with three lads around her, on such an errand as this seemed to be.
But nobody could give them any tidings of Europa--nobody had seen a
little girl dressed like a princess, and mounted on a snow-white bull,
which galloped as swiftly as the wind.
I cannot tell you how long Queen Telephassa, and Cadmus, and Phoenix,
and Cilix, her three sons, went wandering along the highways and
by-paths, or through the pathless wildernesses of the earth, in this
manner. But certain it is that, before they reached any place of rest,
their splendid garments were quite worn out. They all looked very much
travel-stained, and would have had the dust of many countries on their
shoes, if the streams, through which they waded, had not washed it all
away. When they had been gone a year, Telephassa threw away her crown,
because it chafed her forehead.
"It has given me many a headache," said the poor queen, "and it cannot
cure my heartache."
As fast as their princely robes got torn and tattered, they exchanged
them for such mean attire as ordinary people wore. By and by they
came to have a wild and homeless aspect; so that you would much sooner
have taken them for a gipsy family than a queen and three princes, who
had once a palace for their home, and a train of servants to do their
bidding. The three boys grew up to be tall young men, with sunburnt
faces. Each of them girded a sword to defend himself against the
perils of the way. When the husbandmen at whose farmhouses they sought
hospitality, needed their assistance in the harvest-field, they gave
it willingly; and Queen Telephassa (who had done no work in her
palace, save to braid silk threads with golden ones) came behind them
to bind the sheaves. If payment was offered, they shook their heads,
and only asked for tidings of Europa.
"There are bulls enough in my pasture," the old farmers would reply;
"but I never heard of one like this you tell me of. A snow-white bull
with a little princess on his back! Ho! ho! I ask your pardon, good
folks; but there never was such a sight seen hereabouts."
At last, when his upper lip began to have the down on it, Phoenix grew
weary of rambling hither and thither to no purpose. So one day, when
they happened to be passing through a pleasant and solitary tract of
country, he sat himself down on a heap of moss.
"I can go no farther," said Phoenix, "it is a mere foolish waste of
life to spend it, as we do, in always wandering up and down, and never
coming to any home at nightfall. Our sister is lost, and never will be
found. She probably perished in the sea, or to whatever shore the
white bull may have carried her. It is now so many years ago that
there would be neither love nor acquaintance between us, should we
meet again. My father has forbidden us to return to his palace, so I
shall build me a hut of branches and dwell here."
"Well, son Phoenix," said Telephassa sorrowfully, "you have grown to
be a man, and must do as you judge best. But, for my part, I will
still go in quest of my poor child."
"And we two will go along with you!" cried Cadmus and Cilix.
But before setting out they all helped Phoenix to build a habitation.
When completed it was a sweet rural bower, roofed overhead with an
arch of living boughs. Inside there were two pleasant rooms, one of
which had a soft heap of moss for a bed, while the other was furnished
with a rustic seat or two, curiously fashioned out of the crooked
roots of trees. So comfortable and homelike did it seem, that
Telephassa and her two companions could not help sighing to think that
they must still roam about the world instead of spending the remainder
of their lives in some such cheerful abode as they had there built for
Phoenix. But, when they bade him farewell, Phoenix shed tears, and
probably regretted that he was no longer to keep them company.
However, he had fixed upon an admirable place to dwell in. And by and
by there came other people, who chanced to have no home; and seeing
how pleasant a spot it was, they built themselves huts in the
neighborhood of Phoenix's habitation. Thus, before many years went by,
a city had grown up there, in the center of which was seen a stately
palace of marble, wherein dwelt Phoenix, clothed in a purple robe, and
wearing a golden crown upon his head. For the inhabitants of the new
city, finding that he had royal blood in his veins, had chosen him to
be their king. The very first decree of state which King Phoenix
issued was, that if a maiden happened to arrive in the kingdom,
mounted on a snow-white bull and calling herself Europa, his subjects
should treat her with the greatest kindness and respect, and
immediately bring her to the palace. You may see by this that
Phoenix's conscience never quite ceased to trouble him for giving up
the quest of his dear sister, and sitting himself down to be
comfortable, while his mother and her companions went onward.
But often and often, at the close of a weary day's journey, did
Telephassa, Cadmus, and Cilix remember the pleasant spot in which they
had left Phoenix. It was a sorrowful prospect for these wanderers,
that on the morrow they must again set forth; and that, after many
nightfalls, they would, perhaps, be no nearer the close of their
toilsome pilgrimage than now. These thoughts made them all melancholy
at times, but appeared to torment Cilix more than the rest of the
party. At length, one morning, when they were taking their staffs in
hand to set out, he thus addressed them:
"My dear mother, and you, good brother Cadmus, methinks we are like
people in a dream. There is no substance in the life which we are
leading. It is such a dreary length of time since the white bull
carried off my sister Europa, that I have quite forgotten how she
looked, and the tones of her voice, and, indeed, almost doubt whether
such a little girl ever lived in the world. And whether she once lived
or no, I am convinced that she no longer survives, and that therefore
it is the merest folly to waste our own lives and happiness in seeking
her. Were we to find her, she would now be a woman grown, and would
look upon us all as strangers. So, to tell you the truth, I have
resolved to take up my abode here; and I entreat you, mother, and
you, brother, to follow my example."
"Not I, for one," said Telephassa; although the poor queen, firmly as
she spoke, was so travel-worn that she could hardly put her foot to
the ground. "Not I, for one! In the depths of my heart little Europa
is still the rosy child who ran to gather flowers so many years ago.
She has not grown to womanhood, nor forgotten me. At noon, at night,
journeying onward, sitting down to rest, her childish voice is always
in my ears, calling, 'Mother! mother!' Stop here who may, there is no
repose for me."
"Nor for me," said Cadmus, "while my dear mother pleases to go
onward."
They remained with Cilix a few days, however, and helped him to build
a rustic bower, resembling the one which they had formerly built for
Phoenix.
When they were bidding him farewell, Cilix burst into tears, and told
his mother that it seemed just as melancholy a dream to stay there in
solitude as to go onward. If she really believed that they would ever
find Europa, he was willing to continue the search with them even now.
But Telephassa bade him remain there, and be happy, if his own heart
would let him. So the pilgrims took their leave of him and departed,
and were hardly out of sight before some other wandering people came
along that way and saw Cilix's habitation, and were greatly delighted
with the appearance of the place. There being abundance of unoccupied
ground in the neighborhood, these strangers built huts for themselves,
and were soon joined by a multitude of new settlers, who quickly
formed a city. In the middle of it was seen a magnificent palace of
colored marble, on the balcony of which, every noontide, appeared
Cilix, in a long purple robe, and with a jeweled crown upon his head;
for the inhabitants, when they found out that he was a king's son, had
considered him the fittest of all men to be a king himself.
One of the first acts of King Cilix's government was to send out an
expedition, consisting of a grave ambassador and an escort of bold and
hardy young men, with orders to visit the principal kingdoms of the
earth, and inquire whether a young maiden had passed through those
regions, galloping swiftly on a white bull. It is therefore plain to
my mind, that Cilix secretly blamed himself for giving up the search
for Europa, as long as he was able to put one foot before the other.