[21] ἐφόδιαν.
[22] ἔτυχεν ἐζωσμένος;,—ζώνη, the girdle used as a purse.
[23] See the description of the procession to Babastis, in Herod. ii. 60, which illustrates the above passage.
[24] When the soldiers of Pescennius Niger murmured for want of wine, he replied to them, "Nilum habetis et vinum quæritis?" and the historian adds, "siquidem tanta illius fluminis dulcedo, ut accolæ vina non quærant."—Spartianus.
[25] See in Herod. ii. 68, 70, a description of the crocodile and of the mode of taking it.
[BOOK V.]
We arrived at Alexandria after a three days' passage. I entered by the gate of the Sun, and was at once amazed and delighted by the splendour of the city. A row of columns, on either side, led in a straight line to the gate of the Moon—these two divinities being the guardian gods of the city gates. In the midst of these columns was the open part of the city, which branched out into so many streets, that in traversing them, one seemed journeying abroad though all the time at home.[1] Proceeding a little farther I came to a part named after the great Alexander; here began a second city and its beauty was of a twofold kind, two rows of columns equal in extent, intersecting each other at right angles. It was impossible to satisfy the eye with gazing upon the various streets, or to take in every object deserving of admiration; some of these one actually saw, others one was on the point of seeing; others one longed to see; others, again, one would not willingly have missed seeing; those which were actually present rivetted one's gaze; those which were anticipated tempted it to wander: after turning my eyes therefore, on every side, so distracted were my feelings of admiration, that I owned my sight to be thoroughly bewildered and unequal to its task. What most struck me was the extent of the city and its vast population, each of which in turn bore away the palm when compared with the other; the former seemed actually a country, the latter, a nation. When I looked at the vast size of the city, I doubted whether any number of inhabitants could fill it; and when I considered the multitude of the inhabitants, I asked myself whether any city could contain them; so evenly balanced was the calculation,[2] and so difficult was it to come to a decision.
It chanced at that time to be the festival of the great deity called Jove by the Greeks, Serapis[3] by the Egyptians; torches were lighted up throughout the city, and the effect of so much light was marvellous, for although evening had come on and the sun had set, there was no such thing as night, another sun might be said to have arisen, only that his rays were scattered,[4] so that the city vied with heaven in brightness. I also visited the magnificent temple and saw the statue of the Milichian Jove, and after paying our devotions to his great divinity, and praying him to end at last, our troubles, we returned to the lodgings which Menelaus had engaged for us. The deity, as will be seen, did not hearken to our prayers, and another trial of fortune yet awaited us. Chæreas had for some time been enamoured of Leucippe, which was his motive for communicating to me the circumstance of the philtre, by doing which he hoped to become on intimate terms with us and to preserve her life for his own ends. Knowing how difficult success would be, he had recourse to stratagem. Being a seafaring man, he had no difficulty in getting together some fellows, half-fishermen half-pirates, with whom he arranged what was to be done, and then under pretence of keeping his birth-day, he invited us to an entertainment at Pharos. As we were leaving the house a sinister omen befell us; a hawk pursuing a sparrow struck Leucippe on the cheek with its wing; alarmed at the occurrence I looked up towards heaven and said—"Jove, what means this omen? If this bird be indeed sent by thee, show us, I pray, some clearer augury." Upon turning round, I found myself standing by a painter's shop where was a picture, the subject of which was in keeping with what had just taken place; it represented the rape of Philomela, the cruelty of Tereus in cutting out her tongue, every particular of the sad drama was seen depicted on the tapestry,[5] which was being held up by a female slave. Philomela stood pointing to the different figures which were worked upon it, and Procne was intimating that she understood her, at the same time casting stern and angry looks upon the picture. There, the Thracian Tereus was seen struggling with Philomela, whose hair was dishevelled, her girdle loose, her dress torn, her bosom half naked; her right hand was planted against the face of Tereus, with her left she was endeavouring to pull her torn dress over her breast; Tereus was holding her in his arms, drawing her person towards him, and embracing her as closely as he could. Such was the subject of the tapestry. In the remainder of the painting, were seen the two sisters showing Tereus the relics of his supper, the head and hands of his own child; fear and bitter laughter are depicted on their faces; Tereus is leaping up from his couch and drawing his sword against them, and he has struck out his foot against the table[6] which neither stands nor falls, but seems in the very act of falling. "In my opinion," said Menelaus, "we should give up the excursion to Pharos, for we have encountered two unfavourable omens, the hawk's wing and the threatening picture; now those who profess to interpret such matters, bid us pay regard to the subjects of any pictures which we may happen to meet with, when setting out on any business, and to conjecture the result of our undertaking from the nature of what we see. Did you not observe how full of evil augury this picture is? There is depicted in it lawless love, shameless adultery and female misery; we ought therefore to defer our expedition." I concurred in opinion with him, and we excused ourselves from accompanying Chæreas on that occasion; he left us, very much vexed at our determination, saying he should come to us the next day.
Women are naturally fond of hearing stories, accordingly when he was gone, Leucippe turning to me said, "Pray tell me what is the subject represented in this picture? What birds are they? who are the women? and who is that shameless man?" I proceeded to gratify her wishes.—"The hoopoe," I said, "was once a man called Tereus, the swallow and the nightingale were two sisters named Philomela and Procne, natives of Athens. One woman, it seems, is not enough for a barbarian, especially when an occasion offers for gratifying his lust; and such an opportunity was offered to Tereus through the sisterly affection of Procne, who sent her husband to invite Philomela; he conceived a passion for her, on his way back, made her a second Procne; then fearing lest she should reveal the deed, he, as the reward for her virginity deprives her of speech by cutting out her tongue, our nature's glory.[7] The precaution was fruitless, Philomela, by her skill contrived a silent voice; she inwove the tragedy into a web, descriptive of the facts, her hand supplying the place of a tongue, and revealing to her sister's eyes what otherwise would have been whispered into her ears. Procne, learning through this device the violence which had been perpetrated, determines to take fearful vengeance; and two angry women's minds, conspiring together, and influenced by mingled feeling of jealousy and sense of wrong, contrive a supper more detestable even then the rape.[8] They serve up to the father his own child; Procne had once been his mother, now she had forgotten the maternal tie, so powerfully do the pangs of jealousy prevail over those even of travail; for women, when exacting satisfaction for a violated bed, however deeply they may suffer in what they do, compensate the pain by the pleasure of inflicting vengeance.[9] Tereus supped upon this hellish banquet, and afterwards the sisters, trembling with fear yet laughing horribly, bringing the remnants of his child upon a dish. He recognizes the miserable tokens, curses the food which he had swallowed, and discovers himself to be the father of what he had been feasting on. Maddened with fury, he draws his sword, and is in the act of rushing upon the women, when lo! the air receives them metamorphosed into birds. Tereus also becomes a bird, and ascends after them; and to show that their change of form has wrought no change in their hate, the hoopoe (Tereus) still pursues, and the nightingale (Procne) still flies." We had for once escaped the snare laid for us, but we gained by it only a single day, for next morning Chæreas arrived, and feeling ashamed to make any more excuses we went on board a vessel and sailed to Pharos. Menelaus said that he felt indisposed and remained at home. Chæreas took us first to the light-house and directed our attention to the wonderful superstructure upon which it stood—a rock situated in the sea, almost cloud-capped, and seeming to hang over the waters; upon the summit of this arose the tower, which with its light served vessels for a second pilot.[10] When we had viewed this, he took us to a house at the extremity of the isle and situated on the shore.