Whate'er thou givest, generous let it be.
EURIPIDES
When it was rumoured that Artaphernes had ransomed Eudora and Geta, by
offering the entire sum demanded for the ivory, many a jest circulated
in the agoras, at the expense of the old man who had given such an
enormous price for a handsome slave; but when it became known, that he
had, in some wonderful and mysterious manner, discovered a long-lost
daughter, the tide of public feeling was changed.
Alcibiades at once remitted his claim, which in fact never had any
foundation in justice; he having accepted two statues in payment for the
ivory, previous to the death of Phidias. He likewise formally asked
Eudora in marriage; humbly apologizing for the outrage he had committed,
and urging the vehemence of his love as an extenuation of the fault.
Artaphernes had power to dispose of his daughter without even making any
inquiry concerning the state of her affections; but the circumstances of
his past life induced him to forbear the exercise of his power.
"My dear child," said he, "it was my own misfortune to suffer by an
ill-assorted marriage. In early youth, my parents united me with
Artaynta, a Persian lady, whose affections had been secretly bestowed
upon a near kinsman. Her parents knew of this fact, but mine were
ignorant of it. It ended in wretchedness and disgrace. To avoid the
awful consequences of guilt, she and her lover eloped to some distant
land, where I never attempted to follow them.
Some time after, the Great King was graciously pleased to appoint me
Governor of the sea-coast in Asia Minor. I removed to Ephesus, where I
saw and loved your blessed mother, the beautiful Antiope, daughter of
Diophanes, priest of Zeus. I saw her accidentally at a fountain, and
watched her unobserved, while she bathed the feet of her little sister.
Though younger than myself, she reciprocated the love she had inspired.
Her father consented to our union; and for a few years I enjoyed as
great happiness as Oromasdes ever bestows on mortals. You were our only
child; named Artaminta, in remembrance of my mother. You were scarcely
two years old, when you and your nurse suddenly disappeared. As several
other women and children were lost at the same time, we supposed that
you were stolen by pirates. All efforts to ascertain your fate proved
utterly fruitless. As moon after moon passed away, bringing no tidings
of our lost treasure, Antiope grew more and more hopeless. She was a
gentle, tender-hearted being, that complained little and suffered much.
At last, she died broken-hearted."
After remaining in silent thoughtfulness for a few moments, he added:
"Of my two sons by Artaynta, one died in childhood; the other was killed
in battle, before I came to Athens. I had never ceased my exertions to
discover you; but after I became childless, it was the cherished object
of existence. Some information received from Phoenician sailors led to
the conclusion that I owed my misfortune to Greek pirates; and when the
Great King informed me that he had need of services in Athens, I
cherfully undertook the mission."
"Having suffered severely in my own marriage, I would not willingly
endanger your happiness by any unreasonable exercise of parental
authority. Alcibiades is handsome, rich, and of high rank. How do you
regard his proposal of marriage?"
The colour mounted high in Eudora's cheek, and she answered hastily, "As
easily could I consent to be the wife of Tereus, after his brutal
outrage on the helpless Philomela. I have nothing but contempt to bestow
on the man who persecuted me when I was friendless, and flatters me when
I have wealthy friends."
Artaphernes replied, "I knew not how far you might consider violent love
an excuse for base proceedings; but I rejoice to see that you have pride
becoming your noble birth. For another reason, it gives me happiness to
find you ill-disposed toward this match; for duty will soon call me to
Persia, and having just recovered you in a manner so miraculous, it
would be a grievous sacrifice to relinquish you so soon. But am I so
fortunate as to find you willing to return with me? Are there no strong
ties that bind your heart to Athens?"
Perceiving that Eudora blushed deeply, he added, in an inquiring tone,
"Clinias told me to-day, that Phidias wished to unite you with that
gifted artist, his nephew Pandænus?"
The maiden replied, "I have many reasons to be grateful to Pandænus;
and it was painful to refuse compliance with the wishes of my
benefactor; but if Phidias had commanded me to obey him in this
instance, my happiness would have been sacrificed. Of all countries in
the world, there is none I so much wish to visit as Persia. Of that you
may rest assured, my father."
The old man looked upon her affectionately, and his eyes filled with
tears, as he exclaimed, "Oromasdes be praised, that I am once more
permitted to hear that welcome sound! No music is so pleasant to my ears
as that word--father. Zoroaster tells us that children are a bridge
joining this earth to a heavenly paradise, filled with fresh springs and
blooming gardens. Blessed indeed is the man who hears many gentle voices
call him father! But, my daughter, why is it that the commands of
Phidias would have made you unhappy? Speak frankly, Artaminta; lest
hereafter there should be occasion to mourn that we misunderstood each
other."
Eudora then told all the particulars of her attachment to Philæmon, and
her brief infatuation with regard to Alcibiades. Artaphernes evinced no
displeasure at the disclosure; but spoke of Philæmon with great respect
and affection. He dwelt earnestly upon the mischievous effects of such
free customs as Aspasia sought to introduce, and warmly eulogized the
strictness and complete seclusion of Persian education. When Eudora
expressed fears that she might never be able to regain Philæmon's love,
he gazed on her beautiful countenance with fond admiration, and smiled
incredulously as he turned away.
The proposal of Alcibiades was civilly declined; the promised sum paid
to his faithless steward, and the necklace, given by Phidias, redeemed.
Hylax had been forcibly carried to Salamis with his young mistress, lest
his sagacity should lead to a discovery of her prison. When Eudora
escaped from the island, she had reluctantly left him in her apartment,
in order to avoid the danger that might arise from any untimely noise;
but as soon as her own safety was secured, her first thoughts were for
the recovery of this favourite animal, the early gift of Philæmon. The
little captive had pined and moaned continually, during their brief
separation; and when he returned, it seemed as if his boisterous joy
could not sufficiently manifest itself in gambols and caresses.
When Artaphernes was convinced that he had really found his long-lost
child, the impulse of gratitude led to very early inquiries for
Pandænus. The artist had not yet re-appeared; and all Athens was filled
with conjectures concerning his fate. Eudora still suspected that
Alcibiades had secreted him, for the same reason that he had claimed
Geta as a slave; for it was sufficiently obvious that he had desired, as
far as possible, to deprive her of all assistance and protection.
The event proved her suspicions well founded. On the fourth day after
her escape from Salamis, Pandænus came to congratulate Artaphernes, and
half in anger, half in laughter, told the particulars of his story. He
had been seized as he returned home at night, and had been forcibly
conveyed to the mansion of Eurysaces, where he was kept a close
prisoner, with the promise of being released whenever he finished a
picture, which Alcibiades had long desired to obtain. This was a
representation of Europa, just entering the ocean on the back of the
beautiful bull, which she and her unsuspecting companions had crowned
with garlands.
At first, the artist resisted, and swore by Phoebus Apollo that he would
not be thus forced into the service of any man; but an unexpected
circumstance changed his resolution.
There was a long, airy gallery, in which he was allowed to take exercise
any hour of the day. In some places, an open-work partition, richly and
curiously wrought by the skilful hand of Callicrates, separated this
gallery from the outer balustrade of the building. During his walks,
Pandænus often heard sounds of violent grief from the other side of the
screen. Curiosity induced him to listen, and inquire the cause. A sad,
sweet voice answered, "I am Cleonica, daughter of a noble Spartan. Taken
captive in war, and sold to Alcibiades, I weep for my dishonoured lot;
for much I fear it will bring the gray hairs of my mother to an untimely
grave."
This interview led to another, and another; and though the mode of
communication was imperfect, the artist was enabled to perceive that the
captive maiden was a tall, queenly figure, with a rich profusion of
sunny hair, indicating a fair and fresh complexion. The result was a
promise to paint the desired picture, provided he might have the Spartan
slave as a recompense.
Alcibiades, equally solicitous to obtain the painting, and to prolong
the seclusion of Pandænus, and being then eager in another pursuit,
readily consented to the terms proposed. After Eudora's sudden change
of fortune, being somewhat ashamed of the publicity of his conduct, and
desirous not to lose entirely the good opinion of Artaphernes, he gave
the artist his liberty, simply requiring the fulfilment of his promise.
"And what are your intentions with regard to this fair captive?"
inquired the Persian, with a significant smile.
With some degree of embarrassment, Pandænus answered, "I came to ask
your protection; and that Eudora might for the present consider her as a
sister, until I can restore her to her family."
"It shall be so," replied Artaphernes; "but this is a very small part of
the debt I owe the nephew of Phidias. Should you hereafter have a favour
to ask of Cleonica's noble family, poverty shall be no obstruction to
your wishes. I have already taken measures to purchase for you a large
estate in Elis, and to remit yearly revenues, which will I trust be
equal to your wishes. I have another favour to ask, in addition to the
many claims you already have upon me. Among the magnificent pictures
that adorn the Poecile, I have not observed the sculptor of your gods. I
pray you exert your utmost skill in a painting of Phidias crowned by the
Muses; that I may place it on those walls, a public monument of my
gratitude to that illustrious man."
"Of his statues and drawings I have purchased all that can be bought in
Athens. The weeping Panthea, covering the body of Abradates with her
mantle, is destined for my royal and munificent master. By the kindness
of Pericles, I have obtained for myself the beautiful group,
representing my precious little Artaminta caressing the kid, in that
graceful attitude which first attracted the attention of her benefactor.
For the munificent Eleans, I have reserved the Graceful Three, which
your countrymen have named the presiding deities over benevolent
actions. All the other statues and drawings of your illustrious kinsman
are at your disposal. Nay, do not thank me, young man. Mine is still the
debt, and my heart will be ever grateful."
The exertions of Clinias, although they proved unavailing, were
gratefully acknowledged by the present of a large silver bowl, on which
the skilful artificer, Mys, had represented, with exquisite delicacy,
the infant Dionysus watched by the nymphs of Naxos.
In the midst of this generosity, the services of Geta and Milza were not
forgotten. The bribe given to the steward was doubled in the payment,
and an offer made to establish them in any part of Greece or Persia,
where they wished to reside.
A decided preference was given to Elis, as the only place where they
could be secure from the ravages of war. A noble farm, in the
neighbourhood of Proclus, was accordingly purchased for them, well
stocked with herds and furnished with all agricultural and household
conveniences. Geta, having thus become an owner of the soil, dropped the
brief name by which he had been known in slavery, and assumed the more
sonorous appellation of Philophidias.
Dione, old as she was, overcame her fear of perils by land and sea, and
resolved to follow her young mistress into Persia.
Before a new moon had begun its course, Pandænus fulfilled his
intention of returning to Olympia, in company with the Lacedæmonian
ambassador and his train. Cleonica, attended by Geta and Milza,
travelled under the same protection. Artaphernes sent to Proclus four
noble horses and a Bactrian camel, together with seven minæ as a
portion for Zoila. For Pterilaüs, likewise, was a sum of money
sufficient to maintain him ten years in Athens, that he might gratify
his ardent desire to become the disciple of Plato. Eudora sent her
little playmate a living peacock, which proved even more acceptable than
her flock of marble sheep with their painted shepherd. To Melissa was
sent a long affectionate epistle, with the dying bequest of Philothea,
and many a valuable token of Eudora's gratitude.
Although a brilliant future was opening before her, the maiden's heart
was very sad, when she bade a last farewell to the honest and faithful
attendants, who had been with her through so many changing scenes, and
aided her in the hour of her utmost need. The next day after their
departure was spent by the Persian in the worship of Mithras, and
prayers to Oromasdes. Eudora, in remembrance of her vision, offered
thanksgiving and sacrifice to Phoebus and Pan; and implored the deities
of ocean to protect the Phoenician galley, in which they were about to
depart from Athens.
These ceremonies being performed, Artaphernes and his weeping daughter
visited the studio of Myron, who, in compliance with their orders, had
just finished the design of a beautiful monument to Paralus and
Philothea, on which were represented two doves sleeping upon garlands.
For the last time, Eudora poured oblations of milk and honey, and placed
fragrant flowers, with ringlets of her hair, upon the sepulchre of her
gentle friend; then, with many tears, she bade a long farewell to scenes
rendered sacred by the remembrance of their mutual love.