"When the ceremony was over, and the procession had passed by,"
continued Calasiris----"But," said Cnemon, interrupting him, "the
ceremony is not over, Father; you have not made me a spectator of the
procession, whereas I am very desirous both of hearing and seeing; you
treat me like a guest who, as they say, is come a day after the feast:
why should you just open the theatre, only to close it again?"--"I
was unwilling," said Calasiris, "to detain you from what you are most
desirous to know, by a detail which has little or nothing to do with
the principal end of my narration; but since you must be a passing
spectator, and by your fondness for shows declare yourself to be an
Athenian, I will endeavour briefly to describe the exhibition to you;
and I shall do so the more willingly, on account of the consequences
which followed it.
"The procession began with an hecatomb of victims, led by some of the
inferior ministers of the temple, rough-looking men, in white and
girt-up garments. Their right hands and breasts were naked, and they
bore a two-edged axe. The oxen were black, with moderately arched and
brawny necks--their horns equal, and very little bent; some were gilt,
others adorned with flowers--their legs bent inwards[1]--and their deep
dewlaps flowing down to their knees--their number, in accordance with
the name, exactly a hundred. A variety of other different victims came
afterwards, each species separate and in order, attended with pipes and
flutes, sending forth a strain prelusive of the sacrifice: these were
followed by a troop of fair and long-waisted Thessalian maidens, with
dishevelled locks--they were distributed into two companies; the first
division bore baskets full of fruits and flowers; the second, vases of
conserves and spices, which filled the air with fragrance: they carried
these on their heads; thus, their hands being at liberty, they joined
them together, so that they could move along and lead the dance. The
key-note to the melody was sounded by the next division, who were to
sing the whole of the hymn appointed for this festival, which contained
the praises of Thetis, of Peleus, and their son, and of Neoptolemus.
After this, Ο Cnemon----" "But _Cnemon_ me no _Cnemons_," said the
latter; "why not recite the hymn to me instead of depriving me of so
much pleasure? Make me, I beseech you, an auditor at this festival
as well as a spectator."--"You shall be so if you desire it," said
Calasiris; "the hymn, as nearly as I can recollect, ran as follows:[2]
"'Thetis, the golden-haired, we sing.
She who from Nereus erst did spring,
The Venus of our fatherland.
To Peleus wed, at Jove's command,
Her--of the thunderbolt of war, }
Famed for his beamy spear afar, }
Achilles--Greece the mother saw }
Wedded to whom did Pyrrha bear,
Great Neoptolemus his heir,
Of Grecian land the boast and joy,
The destined scourge of lofty Troy.
Thou who in Delphic land dost rest,
Hero, by thee may we be blest;
Accept our strains, and oh, by thee,
May every ill averted be!
Thetis the golden-haired we sing,
She who from Peleus erst did spring.
"The dance[3] which accompanied this song was so well adapted to it,
and the cadence of their steps agreed so exactly with the melody of
the strain, that for a while, in spite of the magnificence of the
spectacle, the sense of seeing was overpowered and suspended by that of
hearing; and all who were present, attracted by the sounds, followed
the advancing dancers. At length a band of youths on horseback, with
their splendidly dressed commander, opening upon them, afforded a
spectacle far preferable to any sounds. Their number was exactly fifty;
they divided themselves into five-and-twenty on each side guarding
their leader, chief of the sacred embassy, who rode in the midst: their
buskins, laced with a purple thong, were tied above their ancles; their
white garments, bordered with blue, were fastened by a golden clasp
over their breasts. Their horses were Thessalian, and by their spirit
gave token of the open plains they came from; they seemed to champ
with disdain the foaming bit, yet obeyed the regulating hand of their
riders, who appeared to vie with each other in the splendour of their
frontlets and other trappings, which glittered with gold and silver.
But all these, Cnemon, splendid as they were, were utterly overlooked,
and seemed to vanish, like other objects before a flash of lightning,
at the appearance of their leader, my dear Theagenes, so gallant a show
did he make.[4] He too was on horseback, and in armour, with an ashen
spear in his hand; his head was uncovered; he wore a purple robe, on
which was worked in gold the story of the Centaurs and the Lapithæ; the
clasp of it was of electrum, and represented Pallas with the Gorgon's
head on her shield. A light breath of wind added to the grace of his
appearance; it played upon his hair, dispersed it on his neck, and
divided it from his forehead, throwing back the extremities of his
cloak in easy folds on the back and sides of his horse. You would say,
too, that the horse himself was conscious both of his own beauty and
of the beauty of his rider; so stately did he arch his neck and carry
his head, with ears erect and fiery eyes, proudly bearing a master
who was proud to be thus borne. He moved along under a loose rein,
balancing himself equally on each side, and, touching the ground with
the extremity of his hoofs, tempered his pace into almost an insensible
motion.
"Every one, astonished at the appearance of this young man, joined
in confessing, that beauty and strength were never before so
gracefully mingled. The women in the streets, unable to disguise their
feelings, flung handfuls of fruit and flowers over him, in token of
their admiration and affection: in short, there was but one opinion
concerning him--that it was impossible for mortal form to excel that of
Theagenes. But now, when
Rosy-finger'd morn appeared,
as Homer says, and the beautiful and accomplished Chariclea proceeded
from the temple of Diana, we then perceived that even Theagenes might
be outshone; but only so far as female beauty is naturally more
engaging and alluring than that of men. She was borne in a chariot
drawn by two white oxen--she was dressed in a purple robe embroidered
with gold, which flowed down to her feet--she had a girdle round her
waist, on which the artist had exerted all his skill: it represented
two serpents, whose tails were interlaced behind her shoulders; their
necks knotted beneath her bosom; and their heads, disentangled from
the knot, hung down on either side as an appendage: so well were they
imitated, that you would say they really glided onward. Their aspect
was not at all terrible; their eyes swam in a kind of languid lustre,
as if being lulled to sleep by the charms of the maiden's breast.
They were wrought in darkened gold, tinged with blue, the better to
represent, by this mixture of dark and yellow, the roughness and
glancing colour of the scales. Such was the maiden's girdle. Her hair
was not entirely tied up, nor quite dishevelled, but the greater part
of it flowed down her neck, and wantoned on her shoulders--a crown of
laurel confined the bright and ruddy locks which adorned her forehead,
and prevented the wind from disturbing them too roughly--she bore a
gilded bow in her left hand; her quiver hung at her right shoulder--in
her other hand she had a lighted torch; yet the lustre of her eyes
paled the brightness of the torch."
"Here are, indeed, Theagenes and Chariclea," cried out Cnemon. "Where,
where are they?" exclaimed Calasiris; who thought that Cnemon saw
them.--"I think I see them now," he replied, "but it is in your lively
description."--"I do not know," said Calasiris, "whether you ever
saw them such as all Greece and the sun beheld them on that day--so
conspicuous, so illustrious; she the object of wish to all the men, and
he to all the women; all thought them equal to the immortals in beauty.
But the Delphians more admired the youth, and the Thessalians the maid;
each most struck with that form which they then saw for the first time.
Such is the charm of novelty.
"But, Cnemon! what a sweet expectation did you raise in me when
you promised to show me these whom I so fondly loved! and how have
you deceived me! You winged me with hope to expect that they would
presently be here, and exacted a reward for these good tidings;
but, lo! evening and night have overtaken us, and they nowhere
appear."--"Raise up your spirits," said Cnemon, "and have a good heart;
I assure you they will soon arrive. Perhaps they have met with some
impediment by the way, for they intended to arrive much earlier. But
I would not shew them to you, if they were here, till you had paid
me the whole of my reward; if, therefore, you are in haste to see
them, perform your promise, and finish your story."--"It is now,"
replied Calasiris, "become a little irksome to me, as it will call up
disagreeable remembrances; and I thought, besides, that you must by
this time be tired with listening to so tedious a tale; but, since you
seem a good listener, and fond of hearing stories worth the telling,
I will resume my narration where I left it off. But let us first
light a torch, and make our libations to the gods who preside over
the night;[5] so that, having performed our devotions, we may spend,
without interruption, as much as we please of it in such discourses
as we like." A maid, at the old man's command, brought in a lighted
taper; and he poured out a libation, calling upon all the gods, and
particularly upon Mercury; beseeching them to grant him pleasant
dreams, and that those whom he most loved might appear to him in his
sleep. Calasiris then proceeded in this manner:
"After, Cnemon, that the procession had thrice compassed the sepulchre
of Neoptolemus, and that both men and women had raised over it their
appropriate shout and cry;[6] on a signal being given, the oxen, the
sheep, the goats, were slaughtered at once, as if the sacrifice had
been performed by a single hand. Heaps of wood were piled on an immense
altar; and the victims being placed thereon, the priest of Apollo was
desired to light the pile, and begin the libation.
"'It belongs, indeed, to me,' said Charicles, 'to make the libation;
but let the chief of the sacred embassy receive the torch from the
hands of Diana's priestess, and light the pile; for such has always
been our custom.' Having said this, he performed his part of the
ceremony, and Theagenes received the torch from Chariclea. From what
now happened, my dear Cnemon, we may infer that there is something
divine in the soul, and allied to a superior nature; for their first
glance at each other was such, as if each of their souls acknowledged
its partner, and hastened to mingle with one which was worthy of it.[7]
"They stood awhile, as if astonished;[8] she slowly offering and he
slowly receiving the torch; and fixing their eyes on one another, for
some space, they seemed rather to have been formerly acquainted, than
to have now met for the first time, and to be returning gradually into
each other's memory. Then softly, and almost imperceptibly smiling,
which the eyes, rather than the lips, betrayed, they both blushed, as
if ashamed of what they had done; and again turned pale, the passion
reaching their hearts. In short, a thousand shades of feeling wandered
in a few moments over their countenances; their complexion and looks
betraying in various ways the movements of their souls.
"These emotions escaped the observation of the crowd, whose attention
was engaged on other things. They escaped Charicles too, who was
employed in reciting the solemn prayers and invocations, but they did
not escape me, for I had particularly observed these young people,
from the time that the oracle was given to Theagenes in the temple;
I had formed conjectures as to the future from the allusion to their
names, though I could not entirely comprehend the latter part of the
prediction.
"At length Theagenes slowly and unwillingly turning from the maiden,
lighted the pile, and the solemn ceremony ended. The Thessalians betook
themselves to an entertainment, and the rest of the people dispersed
to their own habitations. Chariclea putting on a white robe, retired
with a few of her companions to her apartment, which was within the
precincts of the temple; for she did not live with her supposed father,
but dwelt apart for the better performance of the temple services.
"Rendered curious by what I had heard and seen, I sought an opportunity
of meeting Charicles. As soon as he saw me, he cried out, 'Well, have
you seen Chariclea, the light of my eyes, and of Delphi?'--'I have,'
I replied, 'but not now for the first time; I have frequently before
seen her in the temple, and that not in a cursory manner. I have often
sacrificed with her, and conversed with and instructed her, on various
subjects, divine and human.'--'But what did you think of her to-day, my
good friend? Did she not add some ornament to the procession?'--'Some
ornament, do you say? you might as well ask me whether the moon[9]
outshines the stars.'--'But some praise the Thracian youth, and give
him at least the second place to her.'--'The second, if you will, and
the third; but all allow that your daughter was the crown and sun of
the ceremonial.' Charicles was delighted with this, and smiling said,
'I am just going to see her.' I, too, was pleased, for my view was to
inspire him with content and confidence. 'If you will,' he added, 'we
will go together, and see whether she is the worse for the fatigues she
has undergone.' I gladly consented, but pretended I went to oblige him;
and that I gave up other business of my own.
"When we arrived at her apartment, we found her lying uneasily upon
her couch, her eyes melting with languor and passion.[10] Having as
usual saluted her father, he asked what was the matter with her? She
complained that her head ached; and said that she wished to take a
little rest. Charicles, alarmed, went out of the chamber, ordering
her maids to keep every thing quiet about her; and, turning to me,
'What languor,' said he, 'my good Calasiris, can this be, which seems
to oppress my daughter?'--'Wonder not,' I replied, 'if, in such an
assembly of people, some envious[11] eye has looked upon her.' 'And do
you, too,' he returned, smiling ironically, 'think, with the vulgar,
that there is any thing in fascination?'--'Indeed I do,' said I; 'and
thus I account for its effects: this air which surrounds us, which we
take in with our breath, receive at our eyes and nostrils, and which
penetrates into all our pores, brings with it those qualities with
which it is impregnated; and, according to their different natures, we
are differently affected. When any one looks at what is excellent, with
an envious eye, he fills the surrounding atmosphere with a pernicious
quality, and transmits his own envenomed exhalations into whatever is
nearest to him. They, as they are thin and subtle, penetrate even into
the bones and marrow; and thus envy has become the cause of a disorder
to many, which has obtained the name of fascination.
"'Consider besides, O Charicles, how many have been infected with
inflammation of the eyes, and with other contagious distempers, without
ever touching, either at bed or board, those who laboured under them,
but solely by breathing the same air with them.[12] The birth of love
affords another proof of what I am explaining, which, by the eyes
alone, finds a passage to the soul; and it is not difficult to assign
the reason; for as, of all the inlets to our senses, the sight is the
most quick and fiery, and most various in its motions; this animated
faculty most easily receives the influences which surround it, and
attracts to itself the emanations of love.
"'If you wish for an example from natural history, here is one taken
out of our sacred books. The bird Charadrius[13] cures those who are
afflicted with the jaundice. If it perceives, at a distance, any one
coming towards it, who labours under this distemper, it immediately
runs away, and shuts its eyes; not out of an envious refusal of its
assistance, as some suppose, but because it knows, by instinct, that,
on the view of the afflicted person, the disorder will pass from him
to itself, and therefore it is solicitous to avoid encountering his
eyes. You have heard, perhaps, of the basilisk, which, with its breath
and aspect alone, parches up and infects everything around it. Nor is
it to be wondered at, if some fascinate those whom they love and wish
well to; for they who are naturally envious do not always act as they
would wish, but as their nature compels them to do.' Here Charicles,
after a pause, said, 'You seem to have given a very reasonable account
of this matter; and as you appear to admit that there are various kinds
of fascination, I wish hers may be that of love; I should then think
that she was restored to health, rather than that she was disordered.
You know I have often besought your assistance in this matter. I should
rejoice rather than grieve, if this were the affection she labours
under, she who has so long set at nought Venus and all her charms. But,
I doubt, it is the more common sort of fascination, that of an evil
eye, which afflicts her. This your wisdom will certainly enable you
to cure, and your friendship to us will incline you to attempt it.'
I promised to do all in my power to relieve her, should this be the
case; and we were still talking, when a man arrives in haste, and calls
out--'One would imagine, my good friends, that you were invited to a
fray instead of a feast, you are so tardy in coming up; and yet it is
the excellent Theagenes who prepares it for you; and Neoptolemus, the
first of heroes, who presides at it. Come away, for shame, and do not
make us wait for you until evening. Nobody is absent but yourselves.'
"'This,' whispers Charicles, 'is but a rough inviter;[14] the gifts
of Bacchus have not mended his manners. But let us go, lest he come
from words to blows.' I smiled at his pleasantry, and said I was ready
to attend him. When we entered, Theagenes placed Charicles next to
himself; and paid some attention to me, out of respect to him. But why
should I fatigue you with a detail of the entertainments; the dancing
and singing girls, the youths in armour, who moved in Pyrrhic measures;
the variety of dishes with which Theagenes had decked his table, in
order to make the feast more jovial? But what follows is necessary for
you to hear, and pleasant for me to relate. Our entertainer endeavoured
to preserve a cheerful countenance, and forced himself to behave with
ease and politeness to his company, but I perceived plainly what he
suffered within; his eyes wandered, and he sighed involuntarily. Now
he would be melancholy and thoughtful; then on a sudden, recollecting
himself, his looks brightened, and he put on a forced cheerfulness.
In short, it is not easy to describe the changes he underwent; for
the mind of a lover, like that of one overcome with wine, cannot long
remain in the same situation, both their souls fluctuating with weak
and unsteady passion. For which reason a lover is disposed to drink;
and he who has drunk is inclined to love.
"At length, from his yawning, his sighs, and his anxiety, the rest of
the company begun to perceive that he was indisposed; so that even
Charicles, who had not hitherto observed his uneasiness, whispered
me, 'I fancy an envious eye has looked upon him also; he seems to be
affected much in the same manner as Chariclea.' 'Indeed, I think so,
too,' I replied; 'and it is probable enough, for next after her in the
procession, as being most conspicuous, he was most exposed to envy.'
"But now the cups were carried round; and Theagenes, out of
complaisance rather than inclination, drank to every body. When it came
to me, I said I was obliged to him for the compliment, but must beg
to be excused tasting of the cup. He looked displeased and angry, as
if he thought himself affronted; when Charicles explained the matter,
and told him I was an Egyptian, an inhabitant of Memphis, and a priest
of Isis, and consequently abstained from wine and all animal food.
Theagenes seemed filled with a sudden pleasure when he heard that I was
an Egyptian and a priest; and raising himself up, as if he had suddenly
found a treasure, he called for water, and drinking to me, said, 'Ο
sage, receive from me this mark of good-will, in the beverage which
is most agreeable to you; and let this table[15] conclude a solemn
treaty of friendship between us.'--'With all my heart," I replied,'
most excellent Theagenes; I have already conceived a friendship for
you;' and taking the cup, I drank--and with this the company broke up,
and dispersed to their several habitations; Theagenes embracing me at
parting with the warmth and affection of an old friend.
"When I retired to my chamber, I could not sleep the first part of the
night. My thoughts continually ran upon these young people, and upon
the conclusion of the oracle, and I endeavoured to penetrate into its
meaning. But, towards the middle of the night, methought I saw Apollo
and Diana advancing towards me (if it were indeed only imagination, and
not a reality): one led Theagenes, the other Chariclea. They seemed to
deliver them into my hands; and the goddess calling me by my name, thus
addressed me:
"'It is time for you now to return to your country, for such is the
decree of fate. Depart therefore yourself, and take these under your
protection; make them the companions of your journey; treat them as
your children; and carry them from Egypt, where and howsoever it shall
please the gods to ordain.'--Having said this, they disappeared,
signifying first that this was a vision, and not a common dream.[16]
"I understood plainly the commands they gave me; except that I
doubted what land it was, to which I was at last to conduct these
persons."--"If you found this out afterwards, Father," said Cnemon,
"you will inform me at a proper season; in the mean time tell me in
what manner they signified, as you said, that this was not a common
dream, but a real appearance."--"In the same manner, my son, as the
wise Homer intimates; though many do not perceive the hidden sense that
is contained in these lines:
Ἴνια γὰρ μετόπισθε ποδῶν ἠδέ κνημάων
Ῥεῖ', ἓγνων ἀπιοντός, ἀρίγνωτοί τε θεοί περ.[17]
"As they departed, I their legs and feet
To glide did see; the gods are known with ease."
"I must confess," said Cnemon, "that I am one of the many, and perhaps
you imagined so when you quoted these verses. I have understood the
common sense of the words, ever since I first read them, but cannot
penetrate any hidden theological meaning that may be couched under
them."--Calasiris considering a little, and applying his mind to the
explanation of this mystery, replied:
"The gods, O Cnemon, when they appear to, or disappear from us,
generally do it under a human shape--seldom under that of any other
animal; perhaps, in order that their appearance may have more the
semblance of reality. They may not be manifest to the profane,
but cannot be concealed from the sage. You may know them by their
eyes; they look on you with a fixed gaze, never winking with their
eye-lids--still more by their motion,[18] which is a kind of gliding,
an aerial impulse, without movement of the feet, cleaving rather than
traversing the air: for which reason the images of the Egyptian gods
have their feet joined together, and in a manner united. Wherefore
Homer, being an Egyptian, and instructed in their sacred doctrines,
covertly insinuated this matter in his verses, leaving it to be
understood by the intelligent. He mentions Pallas in this manner:
.... δεινὼ δὲ οἱ ὃσσε φάανθεν.
'Fierce glared her eyes.'
and Neptune in the lines quoted before--'ῥεῖν ἔγνων,'--as if gliding in
his gait; for so is the verse to be construed--'ῥεῑν απιόντος,' gliding
away; not, as some erroneously think, 'ῥεῑ' εγνων,' I easily knew him."
"You have initiated me into this mystery," replied Cnemon; "but how
come you to call Homer an Egyptian? It is the first time I ever heard
him called so. I will not insist that he is not your countryman; but
I should be exceedingly glad to hear your reasons for claiming him
as such."--"This is not exactly the time," said Calasiris, "for such
a discussion; however, as you desire it, I will shortly mention the
grounds upon which I go.
"Different authors have ascribed to Homer different countries--indeed
the country of a wise man[19] is in every land; but he was, in fact,
an Egyptian, of the city of Thebes, as you may learn from himself.
His supposed father was a priest there; his real one, Mercury. For
the wife of the priest whose son he was taken to be, while she was
celebrating some sacred mysteries, slept in the temple. Mercury
enjoyed her company; and impregnated her with Homer; and he bore to
his dying day a mark of his spurious origin. From Thebes he wandered
into various countries, and particularly into Greece; singing his
verses, and obtaining the name he bore. He never told his real one,
nor his country, nor family; but those who knew of this mark upon his
body, took occasion from it to give him the name of Homer;[20] for,
immediately from his birth, a profusion of hair appeared upon both his
thighs."
"On what account, my father, did he conceal the place of his
birth?"--"Possibly he was unwilling to appear a fugitive; for he was
driven out by his father, and not admitted among the sacred youths,
on account of the peculiar mark he bore on his body, indicating his
spurious origin. Or, perhaps, he had a wise design in keeping the real
spot of his nativity a secret, as by so doing he might claim every land
he passed through as his fatherland."--"I cannot help," said Cnemon,
"being half persuaded of the truth of this account you give of Homer.
His poems breathe all the softness and luxuriance of Egypt; and from
their excellency, bespeak something of a divine original in their
author.
"But after that, by Homer's assistance, you had discovered the true
nature of these deities, what happened?"--"Much the same as before:
watchings, thoughts, and cares, which night and darkness nourish. I was
glad that I had discovered something, which I had in vain attempted to
explain before; and rejoiced at the near prospect of my return to my
country. But I was grieved to think that Charicles was to be deprived
of his daughter. I was in great doubt in what manner the young people
were to be taken away together; how to prepare for their flight; how to
do it privately, whither to direct it; and whether by land or by sea.
In short, I was overwhelmed with a sea of troubles[21] and spent the
remainder of the night restless, and without sleep. But the day scarce
began to dawn, when I heard a knocking at the gate of my court, and
somebody calling my servant.
"The boy asked who it was that knocked, and what he wanted. The person
replied, that he was Theagenes the Thessalian.--I was very glad to hear
this, and ordered him to be introduced; thinking this an excellent
opportunity to lay some foundation for the design I meditated. I
supposed that, having discovered at the entertainment that I was an
Egyptian, and a priest, he came to ask my advice and assistance in
the attachment which now influenced him. He thought, perhaps, as many
wrongly do, that the science of the Egyptians was only of one sort.
But there is one branch in the hands of the common mass, as I may
say, crawling on the ground; busied in the service of idols, and the
care of dead bodies; poring over herbs, and murmuring incantations;
neither itself aiming, nor leading those who apply to it to aim, at any
good end; and most frequently failing in what it professes to effect.
Sometimes succeeding in matters of a gloomy and despicable nature;
showing imaginary visions as though real; encouraging wickedness; and
ministering to lawless pleasures. But the other branch of Egyptian
science, my son, is the true wisdom; of which that which I have just
mentioned is the base-born offspring. This is that in which our
priests and seers are from their youth initiated. This is of a far
more excellent nature; looks to heavenly things, and converses with
the gods; inquires into the motions of the stars, and gains an insight
into futurity; far removed from evil and earthly matters, and turning
all its views to what is honourable and beneficial to mankind. It was
this which prompted me to retire a while from my country--to avoid,
if possible, the ills which it enabled me to foresee, and the discord
which was to arise between my children. But these events must be left
to the gods, and the fates, who have power either to accomplish or to
hinder them; and who, perhaps, ordained my flight, in order that I
might meet with Chariclea. I will now proceed with my narration.
"Theagenes entered my apartment; and, after I had received and returned
his salute, I placed him near me on the bed, and asked what was the
occasion of so early a visit.--He stroked his face, and, after a
long pause, said: 'I am in the greatest perplexity, and yet blush to
disclose the cause of it:'--and here he stopped. I saw that this was
the time for dissimulation, and for pretending to discover what I
already knew. Looking therefore archly upon him, I said, 'Though you
seem unwilling to speak out, yet nothing escapes my knowledge, with
the assistance of the gods.'--With this I raised myself a little,
counting over certain numbers upon my fingers, (which in reality meant
nothing); shaking my locks, like one moreover under a sudden influence
of the divinity, I cried out, 'My son, you are in love.'--He started at
this; but, when I added--'and with Chariclea,' he thought I was really
divinely inspired; and was ready to fall at my feet, and worship me.
When I prevented this, he[22] kissed my head, and gave thanks to the
gods that he had really found my knowledge as great as he expected.
He besought me to be his preserver; for, unless preserved by my
assistance, and that quickly, he was undone, so violent a passion had
seized upon him; desire so consumed him--him, who now first knew what
it was to love.
"He swore to me, with many protestations, that he never had enjoyed
the company of women--that he had always rejected them--and professed
himself an enemy to marriage, and a rebel to Venus, until subdued
by the charms of Chariclea--that this did not arise from any forced
temperance, or natural coldness of constitution; but he had never
before seen a woman whom he thought worthy of his love--and having
said this, he wept, as if indignant at being subdued by a weak girl. I
raised him, comforted, and bade him be of good cheer; for, since he had
applied to me, he should find that her coyness would yield to my art. I
knew that she was haughty, protesting against love, so as not to bear
even the name of Venus or wedlock; but I would leave no stone unturned
to serve him. 'Art,' said I, 'can not outdo even nature: only be not
cast down, but act as I shall direct you.'
"He promised that he would obey me in every thing; even if I should
order him to go through fire and sword. While he was thus eager in
protestations, and profuse in his promises of laying at my feet all
he was worth, a messenger came from Charicles, saying that his master
desired me to come to him--that he was near, in the temple of Apollo,
where he was chanting a hymn to appease the deity; having been much
disturbed in the night by a dream.
"I arose immediately, and dismissing Theagenes, hastened to the temple;
where I found Charicles reclining sorrowfully upon a seat, and sighing
deeply. I approached him, and inquired why he was so melancholy and
cast down.--'How can I be otherwise,' he replied, 'when I have been
terrified by dreams? and hear too, this morning, that my daughter
still continues indisposed, and has passed a sleepless night. I am the
more concerned at this, not only on her own account, but also because
to-morrow is the day appointed for the display of those who[23] run in
armour; at which ceremony the priestess of Diana is to preside, and
hold up a torch. Either, therefore, the festival will lose much of its
accustomed splendour by her absence; or if she comes against her will,
she may increase her illness. Wherefore let me now beseech you, by
our friendship, and by the god at whose altar we are, to come to her
assistance, and think of some remedy. I know you can easily, if you
please, cure this fascination, if such it be--the priests of Egypt can
do far greater things than these.'
"I confessed that I had been negligent (the better to carry on the
deception); and requested a day's time to prepare some medicines,
which I thought necessary for her cure. 'Let us now, however,' I
continued, 'make her a visit; consider more accurately the nature of
her complaint; and, if possible, administer to her some consolation.
At the same time, Charicles, I beg you will say a few words to her
concerning me; inspire her with regard for my person, and confidence in
my skill, that so the cure may proceed the better.' He promised that he
would do so; and we went together. But why say much of the situation
in which we found the luckless Chariclea? She was entirely prostrated
by her passion; the bloom was flown from her cheeks; and tears flowing
like water had extinguished the lustre of her eyes. She endeavoured,
however to compose herself, when she saw us; and to resume her usual
voice and countenance. Charicles embraced, kissed and soothed her. 'My
dear daughter,' he cried, 'why will you hide your sufferings from your
father? and while you labour under a fascination, you are silent as if
you were the injurer, instead of being the injured party: an evil eye
has certainly looked upon you. But be of good cheer; here is the wise
Calasiris, who has promised to attempt your cure; and he, if any one
is able, can effect it; for he has been bred up from his youth in the
study of things divine, and is himself a priest; and what is more than
all, he is my dearest friend. Resign yourself up, therefore, entirely
to his management; suffer him to treat you as he pleases, either by
incantations or any other method--you have, I know, no aversion to the
company and conversation of the wise.'
"Chariclea motioned her consent, as though not displeased at the
proposal--and we then took our leave; Charicles putting me in mind of
what he had first recommended to my anxious care; beseeching me, if
possible, to inspire his daughter with an inclination for love and
marriage. I sent him away in good spirits: assuring him that I would
shortly bring about what he seemed to have so much at heart."
[Footnote 1: Σιμοὶ.]
[Footnote 2:
Tὰν θέτιν ἀείδω, χρυσοἐθεφα θέτι,
Νηρέως ἀθανάταν εἰvaλίoιo Κόραν,
Τὰν Διός ἐννεσίη Πήλεϊ γημαμέναν;
Τὰν ἁλός ἀγλαίαν, ἀμετὲραν Παφίην·
Ή τὸν δουριμανή τόν τ'"Αρεα πτολέμων,
Έλλάδος ἀστερoπαν ἐζέτεκεν λαγόνων
Δῖον Άχιλλῆα, τοῦ κλέος οὐράνιον
Τῷ ὑπὸ Πύῤῥα τέκεν πᾶιδα Νεοπτόλεμον
Περσέπολιν Τρώων, ῥυσίπολιν Δαναῶν·
Ιλήκοις ἤρως ἄμμι Nεοπτόλεμε,
Ὅλζίε Πνθιάδι νῦν χθονὶ κευθόμενε.
Αέχνυσο δ'εὐμενέων τῶνδε θυηπολίην'
Πᾶν δ' ἀπέρυκε δέος άμετέρας πόλιός.
Tὰν θέτιν ἀείδω, χρυσοέθειρα θέτι.
]
[Footnote 3:
"To brisk notes in cadence beating,
Glance their many-twinkling feet."--Gray.
]
[Footnote 4:
"Armed he rode, all save the head;
. . . . . .
He ruled his eager courser's gait;
Forced him with chastened fire to prance,
And, high curvetting, slow advance."
Lay of the Last Minstrel, iv. 18.
]
[Footnote 5: The ancients were very exact in performing their devotions
to the gods of the night, before they went to bed, or when they broke
up an entertainment. Mercury was one of the principal of these deities.
Homer takes notice of this custom:
"The chiefs he found and senators within
Libation pouring to the vigilant spy
Mercurius, whom with wine they worshipp'd last
Of all the gods, and at the hour of rest."
Od. vii. 136.--Cowper.
]
[Footnote 6: Όλόλυξαν μὲν aἱ γυνᾶικες, ἠλάλαξαν δὲ οἱ ἄνδρες.]
[Footnote 7:
"It is the secret sympathy,
The silver link, the silken tie,
Which heart to heart and mind to mind
In body and in soul can bind."
Lay of the Last Minstrel, v. 14.
]
[Footnote 8: This incident forms the subject of a painting by Raphael.]
[Footnote 9:
"... micat inter omnea
... velut inter ignes----
Luna minorea."--Hor. I. Od. xii. 47.
]
[Footnote 10: Τοὺς ὀφθαλμους Ἓρωτι διαβρόχους.
"Et dulcis pueri _ebrios_ ocellos
Illo purpureo ore suaviata."--Catullus, c. 42.
]
[Footnote 11: "Nescio quis teneros oculus mihi fascinat agnos."--Virg.
Ec. iii. Theocritus (Id. v. 39,) alludes to the method of averting
fascination:
"Ώς μὴ βασκανθῶ δὲ, τρὶς εἰς ἐμὸν ἓπτυσα κόλπον."
]
[Footnote 12: A passage illustrative of this occurs in Achilles Tatius,
B. i. 4: Κάλλος ὀξύτερον τιτρώσκει βέλους, καὶ δια τῶν ὀφθαλμῶν εἰς τὴν
ψυχην καταῤῥεῖ ὀφθαλμὸς yὰρ ἐδoς ἐρωτικῷ τράυμάτι.]
[Footnote 13: Supposed to be the lapwing or curlew.]
[Footnote 14: Tὴν ἀπὸ ξύλου κλῆσιν ἥκει φέρων.]
[Footnote 15: Φιλίαν ἥδε ἡμῖν ἡ τράπεζα σπενδέθω.]
[Footnote 16: Mη ὄναρ αλλ' ὔαρ.]
[Footnote 17: Iliad, xiii. 71. Heliodorus, says the Bipont editor,
evidently intended the line in Homer to be read--Ῥεῖν ἕγνων
ἀπιοντός--instead of Ῥεῖ....]
[Footnote 18: "Vera incessu patuit Dea."--Virg. Æn. i. 405.]
[Footnote 19: "Ogni stanza al valent' uomo è patria."--Guarini, Pastor
Fido.]
[Footnote 20: Ομηρος--μηρός in Greek signifies a thigh. For the various
accounts respecting Homer, and the origin of his name, see p. 59 of
Coleridge's Introd. to the Classic Poets.]
[Footnote 21: Κλύδων φροντισμάτωρ. "Or to take arms against _a sea of
troubles_."--Shakspeare.]
[Footnote 22: "Φιλήσω τ', εί θἐμις, τὸ σὸν κάρα."--Soph. Œd. Col. 1131.]
[Footnote 23: Of one of whom Pindar says--
'Εθέλω χαλκόσπιδα Πυθιoνίκαν
.... γεγωνεῖν.--Pyth. xi. 1.
]