little sister Europa, (who was a very beautiful child,) were at play
together, near the sea shore, in their father's kingdom of Phœnicia.
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, Phœnix, 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. "Phœnix! 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 his 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, Phœnix, 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 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 a 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 Phœnix,
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, Phœnix, 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 far 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, Phœnix, 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 depths 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.
"O, 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!"
"And let me go likewise!" said their playfellow Thasus, who came
running to join them.
Thasus was the son of a seafaring person in the neighborhood; he had
been brought up with the young princes, and was their intimate friend,
and loved Europa very much; so they consented that he should accompany
them. The whole party, therefore, set forth together. Cadmus, Phœnix,
Cilix, and Thasus clustered round Queen Telephassa, grasping her
skirts, and begging her to lean upon their shoulders, whenever she felt
weary. 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:--
[Illustration: "Alas! My dear children," answered poor Queen
Telephassa.]
"Remember! Never ascend these steps again without the child!"
"Never!" sobbed Queen Telephassa; and the three brothers and Thasus
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 and their playfellow Thasus, 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 four youthful companions.
They went on and on, and travelled 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 four 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, Phœnix, and
Cilix, her three sons, and Thasus, their playfellow, went wandering
along the highways and bypaths, 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 gypsy family than a queen and three princes, and a
young nobleman, who had once a palace for their home, and a train of
servants to do their bidding. The four boys grew up to be tall young
men, with sunburnt faces. Each of them girded on a sword, to defend
themselves against the perils of the way. When the husbandmen, at whose
farm houses 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, Phœnix 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 Phœnix. "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 Phœnix," 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 three will go along with you!" cried Cadmus and Cilix, and
their faithful friend Thasus.
But, before setting out, they all helped Phœnix 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 home-like did it seem, that Telephassa and
her three 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 here built for Phœnix.
But, when they bade him farewell, Phœnix 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 homes; and,
seeing how pleasant a spot it was, they built themselves huts in the
neighborhood of Phœnix'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 Phœnix, 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 Phœnix 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 Phœnix'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 and Cadmus, Cilix and Thasus, remember the pleasant spot
in which they had left Phœnix. 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, and my friend Thasus,
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,
brother, and friend, 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."
And the faithful Thasus, too, was resolved to bear them company. 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
Phœnix.
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.
As for Telephassa, and Cadmus, and the good Thasus, it grieves me to
think of them, still keeping up that weary pilgrimage. The two young
men did their best for the poor queen, helping her over the rough
places, often carrying her across rivulets in their faithful arms, and
seeking to shelter her at nightfall, even when they themselves lay on
the ground. Sad, sad it was to hear them asking of every passer-by if
he had seen Europa, so long after the white bull had carried her away.
But, though the gray years thrust themselves between, and made the
child's figure dim in their remembrance, neither of these true-hearted
three ever dreamed of giving up the search.
One morning, however, poor Thasus found that he had sprained his ankle,
and could not possibly go a step farther.
"After a few days, to be sure," said he, mournfully, "I might make a
shift to hobble along with a stick. But that would only delay you, and
perhaps hinder you from finding dear little Europa, after all your
pains and trouble. Do you go forward, therefore, my beloved companions,
and leave me to follow as I may."
"Thou hast been a true friend, dear Thasus," said Queen Telephassa,
kissing his forehead. "Being neither my son, nor the brother of our
lost Europa, thou hast shown thyself truer to me and her than Phœnix
and Cilix did, whom we have left behind us. Without thy loving help,
and that of my son Cadmus, my limbs could not have borne me half so far
as this. Now, take thy rest, and be at peace. For--and it is the first
time I have owned it to myself--I begin to question whether we shall
ever find my beloved daughter in this world."
Saying this, the poor queen shed tears, because it was a grievous trial
to the mother's heart to confess that her hopes were growing faint.
From that day forward, Cadmus noticed that she never travelled with the
same alacrity of spirit that had heretofore supported her. Her weight
was heavier upon his arm.
Before setting out, Cadmus helped Thasus build a bower; while
Telephassa, being too infirm to give any great assistance, advised them
how to fit it up and furnish it, so that it might be as comfortable as
a hut of branches could. Thasus, however, did not spend all his days
in this green bower. For it happened to him, as to Phœnix and Cilix,
that other homeless people visited the spot and liked it, and built
themselves habitations in the neighborhood. So here, in the course of
a few years, was another thriving city, with a red freestone palace in
the center of it, where Thasus sat upon a throne, doing justice to the
people, with a purple robe over his shoulders, a scepter in his hand,
and a crown upon his head. The inhabitants had made him king, not for
the sake of any royal blood, (for none was in his veins,) but because
Thasus was an upright, true-hearted, and courageous man, and therefore
fit to rule.