While we were thus discussing the subject of the god of Love, a slave of Charicles suddenly rushed in bearing his evil tidings on his face so plainly, that Clinias immediately cried out, "Some accident has befallen Charicles." "Charicles," hastily exclaimed the slave, "is dead." Utterance failed Clinias, upon hearing this, he remained without the power of motion, as if struck by lightning. The slave proceeded to relate the sad particulars. "Charicles," he said, "after mounting, went off at a moderate pace, then after having had two or three gallops, pulled up, and still sitting on the animal, wiped off from its back the sweat, leaving the reins upon its neck. There was a sudden noise from behind, and the startled horse rearing bounded forward and dashed wildly on.[50] Taking the bit between his teeth, with neck thrown up and tossing mane, maddened with fright, he flew through the air.[51] Such was his speed, that his hind feet seemed endeavouring to overtake and pass the fore feet in the race; and owing to this rivalry of speed between the legs, the animal's back rose and fell as does a ship when tossing upon the billows. Oscillating from the effect of these wave-like movements,[52] the wretched Charicles was tossed up and down like a ball upon the horse's back, now thrown back upon his croup, now pitched forward upon his neck. At length overmastered by the storm,[53] and unable to recover possession of the reins, he gave himself up to this whirlwind of speed, and was at Fortune's mercy. The horse still in full career, turned from the public road, made for a wood, and dashed his unhappy rider against a tree. Charicles was shot from off his back as from an engine, and his face encountering the boughs, was lacerated with a wound from every jagged point. Entangled by the reins, he was unable to release his body, but was dragged along upon the road to death; for the horse, yet more affrighted by the rider's fall, and impeded by his body, kicked and trampled the miserable youth who was the obstacle to his farther flight;[54] and such is his disfigurement that you can no longer recognize his features."
After listening to this account, Clinias was for some moments speechless through bewilderment, then awakening from his trance of grief, he uttered a piercing cry, and was rushing out to meet the corpse, I following and doing my best to comfort him. At this instant the body of Charicles was borne into the house, a wretched and pitiable sight, for he was one mass of wounds,[55] so that none of the bystanders could restrain their tears. His father led the strains of lamentation, and cried out, "My son, in how different a state hast thou returned from that in which thou didst leave me! Ill betide all horsemanship! Neither hast thou died by any common death, nor art thou brought back a corpse comely in thy death; others who die preserve their well-known lineaments, and though the living beauty of the countenance be gone, the image is preserved, which by its mimickry of sleep consoles the mourner.[56] In their case, death has taken away the soul, but leaves in the body the semblance of the individual: in thy case, fate has destroyed both, and, to me, thou hast died a double death, in soul and body, so utterly has even the shadow of thy likeness perished! Thy soul has fled, and I find thee no more, even in body! Oh, my son, when shall be now thy bridal day? When, ill-starred horseman and unwedded bridegroom, when shall be the joyous nuptial festivities? The tomb will be thy bridal bed, death thy partner, a dirge thy nuptial song, wailing thy strains of joy![57] I thought, my son, to have kindled for thee a very different flame, but cruel fate has extinguished both it and thee, and in its stead lights up the funeral torch. Oh, luckless torch bearing, where death presides and takes the place of marriage!"
Thus bitterly did the father bewail the loss of his son, and Clinias vied with him in the expression of his grief, breaking forth into soliloquy. "I have been the death of him who was master of my affection! Why was I so ill-advised as to present him with such a gift! Could I not have given him a golden beaker, out of which, when pouring a libation, he might have drunk, and so have derived pleasure from the gift? Instead of doing this, wretch that I was, I bestowed upon this beauteous youth a savage brute, and moreover decked out the beast with a pectoral and frontlet and silver trappings.[58] Yes, Charicles, I decked out your murderer with gold! Thou beast, of all others most evil, ruthless, ungrateful, and insensible to beauty, thou hast actually been the death of him who fondled thee, who wiped away thy sweat, promised thee many a feed, and praised the swiftness of thy pace! Instead of glorying in being the bearer of so fair a youth, thou hast ungratefully dashed his beauty to the earth! Woe is me, for having bought this homicide, who has turned out to be thy murderer!"
No sooner were the funeral obsequies over, than I hastened to the maiden, who was in the pleasance belonging to the house. It consisted of a grove, which afforded a delightful object to the eyes; around it ran a wall, each of the four sides of which had a colonnade supported upon pillars, the central space being planted with trees, whose branches were so closely interwoven, that the fruits and foliage intermingled in friendly union.[59] Close to some of the larger trees grew the ivy and the convolvulus; the latter hanging from the plane-trees, clustered round it, with its delicate foliage; the former twining round the pine, lovingly embraced its trunk, so that the tree became the prop of the ivy, and the ivy furnished a crown for the tree. On either side were seen luxuriant vines, supported upon reeds; these were now in blossom, and hanging down from the intervening spaces were the ringlets of the plant;[60] while the upper leaves, agitated by the breeze and interpenetrated by the rays of the sun, caused a quivering gleam to fall upon the ground, which partially lighted up its shade. Flowers also displayed the beauty of their various hues. The narcissus, the rose, and violet, mingling together, imparted a purple colour to the earth; the calyx of both these flowers was alike in its general shape, and served them for a cup; the expanded rose-leaves were red and violet above, milky white below, and the narcissus was altogether of the latter hue; the violet had no calyx, and its colour resembled that of the sea when under the influence of a calm. In the midst of the flowers bubbled a fountain, whose waters received into a square basin, the work of art, served the flowers for their mirror, and gave a double appearance to the grove, by adding the reflection to the reality. Neither were there wanting birds: some of a domestic kind, reared by the care of man, were feeding in the grove; while others, enjoying their liberty of wing, flew and disported themselves among the branches. The songsters were grasshoppers[61] and swallows,[62] of which the one celebrated the rising of Aurora, the other the banquet of Tereus. Those of a domestic kind were the peacock, the swan, and the parrot; the swan was feeding near the fountain; a cage suspended from a tree contained the parrot; the peacock drew after him his splendid train; nor was it easy to decide which surpassed the other in beauty, the tints of the flowers themselves, or the hues of his flower-like feathers.
Leucippe happened at this time to be walking with Clio, and stopped opposite the peacock who was just then spreading his train, and displaying the gorgeous semicircle of his feathers.[63] Wishing to produce amorous sensations in her mind, I addressed myself to the slave Satyrus,[64] making the peacock the subject of our discourse. "The bird," I said, "does not do this without design; he is of an amorous nature, and always bedecks himself in this manner when he wishes to attract his favourite mate. Do you see," I added, (pointing in the direction) "the female, near the plane-tree yonder? It is to her that he is now displaying the 'enamelled meadow' of his plumes, and this meadow of his is assuredly more beautiful than any mead in nature, each plume has in it a spot of gold, and the gold is encircled by a purple ring, and so in every plume there is seen an eye." Satyrus readily comprehended the drift of my discourse, and in order to give me scope for continuing the subject, he asked "whether Love could possibly possess such power as to transmit his warmth even unto the winged tribes?" "Yes," I replied, "not only unto them—for there is no marvel in this, since he himself is winged—but also into reptiles and wild beasts and plants; nay, in my opinion even unto stones. The magnet, for instance loves the iron, and upon the first sight and touch draws that metal towards it, as if containing within itself the fire of love. Is there not in this, a manifest embrace between the amorous stone and the iron the object of its affection? Philosophers, moreover, tell, concerning plants, what I should deem an idle tale were it not confirmed by the experience of husbandmen. They maintain that one plant becomes enamoured of another, and that the palm is most sensible of the tender passion; there are, you must know, male[65] and female palms; supposing the female is planted at a distance from it, the male droops and withers; the husbandman upon seeing this, easily understands the nature of the malady, and ascending an eminence he observes in what direction the tree inclines—which is always towards the beloved object; having ascertained this point, he employs the following remedy: taking a shoot from the female he inserts it into the very heart of the male; this immediately revives it, and bestows new life upon its sinking frame, so that it recovers its pristine vigour; and this arises from delight in embracing its beloved; such are the loves of the plants.[66]
"The same holds true concerning streams and rivers also; for we hear of the loves of the river Alpheus and the Sicilian fountain Arethusa.[67] This river takes its course through the sea as through a plain, and the sea instead of impregnating it with its saltness, divides and so affords a passage for the river, performing the part of bridesman,[68] by conducting it to Arethusa; when, therefore, at the Olympic Festival, persons cast various gifts into the channel of this river, it immediately bears them to its beloved, these being its nuptial gifts.[69] A yet stranger mystery of Love is seen in reptiles, not merely in those of like race, but of different kind. The viper[70] conceives a violent passion for the lamprey, which though in form a serpent, is to all intents and purposes a fish. When these reptiles wish to copulate, the viper goes down to the shore and hisses in the direction of the sea, which is a signal to the lamprey; she understands the sound, and issues from the water, but does not immediately hasten to her lover, knowing that he carries deadly poison in his teeth, but gliding up a rock, there waits until he has cleansed his mouth. After looking at one another for a space, the loving viper vomits forth the poison so dreaded by his mistress, and she upon perceiving this, descends and entwines him in her embrace, no longer dreading his amorous bite."
During my discourse, I kept observing Leucippe to see how she took these amatory topics, and she gave indications that they were not displeasing to her. The dazzling beauty of the peacock which I just now mentioned seemed to me far inferior to her attractions; indeed the beauty of her countenance might vie with the flowers of the meadow; the narcissus was resplendent in her general complexion, the rose blushed upon her cheek, the dark hue of the violet sparkled in her eyes, her ringlets curled more closely than do the clusters of the ivy;—-her face, therefore, was a reflex of the meadows.[71] Shortly after this, she left the pleasance, it being time for her to practise upon the harp. Though absent she appeared to me still present, for her form and features remained impressed upon my eyes.
Satyrus and I congratulated each other upon our mutual performances. I for the subjects I had chosen, he for having given me the opportunity of discussing them. Supper time soon arrived and we reclined at table as before.
[1] Μήτηρ Φοινίκων ἡ πόλις, θηζαίων ὁ δῆμος πατήρ. The "mother-city," because of the many colonies which it sent out: on the foundation of Thebes, Pliny, B. v, c. 19, says: "Sidon, artifex vitri, Thebarum Bœtiarum parens." We find in the Scriptures, that Tyre and Sidon were famous for works in gold, embroidery, &c., and whatsoever regarded magnificence and luxury.—See Isaiah xxiii.—Ezek. xxvii. xxviii. The Phœnicians were, in very early times, celebrated for merchandise of every description; and their country was justly considered the emporium of the East. They were the earliest navigators, and their skill in ship-building may be inferred from I Kings, v. 6.—Trollope's Homer.