The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia

by Philip Sidney

Farewell, O sun, Arcadia’s clearest light:

Farewell, O pearl, the poor man’s plenteous treasure.

Farewell, O golden staff, the weak man’s might:

Farewell, O joy, the joyful’s only pleasure.

Wisdom, farewell, the skill-less man’s direction:

Farewell with thee, farewell all our affection.

For what place now is left for our affection,

Now that of purest lamp is quench’d the light.

Which to our darkened minds was best direction?

Now that the mine is lost of all our treasure?

Now death hath swallowed up our worldly pleasure,

We orphans made, void of all public might?

Orphans indeed, depriv’d of father’s might:

For he our father was in all affection,

In our well-doing placing all his pleasure,

Still studying how to us to be a light.

As well he was in peace a safest treasure:

In war his wit and word was our direction.

Whence, whence, alas, shall we seek our direction?

When that we fear our hateful neighbours’ might,

Who long have gap’d to get Arcadian’s treasure.

Shall we now find a guide of such affection,

Who for our sakes will think all travel light,

And make his pain to keep us safe, his pleasure?

No, no, for ever gone is all our pleasure;

For ever wand’ring from all good direction;

For ever blinded of our clearest light;

For ever lamed of our sured might;

For ever banish’d from well-plac’d affection;

For ever robb’d of all our royal treasure.

Let tears for him therefore be all our treasure,

And in our wailing naming him our pleasure:

Let hating of ourselves be our affection,

And unto death bend still our thoughts’ direction:

Let us against ourselves employ our might,

And putting out our eyes seek we our light.

Farewell our light, farewell our spoiled treasure:

Farewell our might, farewell our daunted pleasure:

Farewell direction, farewell all affection.

The night began to cast her dark canopy over them, and they, even weary with their woes, bended homewards, hoping by sleep, forgetting themselves, to ease their present dolours, when they were met with a troop of twenty horse, the chief of which asking them for the king, and understanding the hard news, thereupon stayed among them expecting the return of a messenger, whom with speed he dispatched to Philanax.

[End of Book IV]

ARCADIA
BOOK V

The dangerous division of men’s minds, the ruinous renting of all estates, had now brought Arcadia to feel the pangs of uttermost peril, such convulsions never coming, but that the life of that government draws near his necessary period, when to the honest and wise Philanax, equally distracted between desire of his master’s revenge and care of the estate’s establishment, there came, unlooked for, a Macedonian gentleman, who in short, but pithy manner, delivered unto him, that the renowned Euarchus, King of Macedon, purposing to have visited his old friend and confederate the King Basilius, was now come within half a mile of the lodges, where having understood by certain shepherds the sudden death of their prince, had sent unto him, of whose authority and faith he had good knowledge, desiring him to advertise him in what security he might rest there for that night, where willingly he would, if safely he might, help to celebrate the funeral of his ancient companion and ally; adding he need not doubt, since he had brought but twenty in his company, he would be so unwise as to enter into any forcible attempt with so small force. Philanax having entertained the gentleman, as well as in the midst of so many tumults he could, pausing a while with himself, considering how it should not only be unjust and against the law of nations, not well to receive a prince whom goodwill had brought among them, but, in respect of the greatness of his might, very dangerous to give him any cause of due offence; remembering withal the excellent trials of his equity, which made him more famous than his victories, he thought he might be the fittest instrument to redress the ruins they were in, since his goodness put him without suspicion, and his greatness beyond envy. Yet weighing with himself how hard many heads were to be bridled, and that in this monstrous confusion such mischief might be attempted, of which late repentance should after be but a simple remedy, he judged best first to know how the people’s minds would sway to this determination. Therefore desiring the gentleman to return to the King his master, and to beseech him, though with his pains, to stay for an hour or two, where he was, till he had set things in better order to receive him, he himself went first to the noblemen, then to Kalander, and the principal Mantineans, who were most opposite unto him, desiring them, that as the night had most blessedly staid them from entering into civil blood, so they would be content in the night to assemble the people together to hear some news which he was to deliver unto them. There is nothing more desirous of novelties than a man that fears his present fortune. Therefore they, whom mutual diffidence made doubtful of their utter destruction, were quickly persuaded to hear of any new matter, which might alter at least, if not help the nature of their fear. Namely, the chiefest men, who as they had most to lose, so were most jealous of their own case, and were already grown as weary to be followers of Timautus’s ambition, as before they were enviers of Philanax’s worthiness. As for Kalander and Sympathus as in the one a virtuous friendship had made him seek to advance, in the other a natural commiseration had made him willing to protect the excellent, though unfortunate prisoners, so were they not against this convocation. For having nothing but just desires in them, they did not mistrust the justifying of them. Only Timautus laboured to have withdrawn them from this assembly, saying it was time to stop their ears from the ambitious charms of Philanax. Let them first deliver Gynecia, and her daughters, which were fit persons to hear, and then they might begin to speak. That this was but Philanax’s cunning, to link broil upon broil, because he might avoid the answering of his trespasses, which as he had long intended, so had he prepared coloured speeches to disguise them. But as his words expressed rather a violence of rancour than any just ground of accusation, so pierced they no further than to some partial ear, the multitude yielding good attention to what Philanax would propose unto them. Who, like a man whose best building was a well-framed conscience, neither with plausible words, nor fawning countenance, but even with the grave behaviour of a wise father, whom nothing but love makes to chide, thus said unto them.

“I have,” said he, “a great matter to deliver unto you, and thereout am I to make a greater demand of you: but truly such hath this late proceeding been of yours that I know not what is to be demanded of you. Methinks I may have reason to require of you, as men are wont among pirates, that the life of him that never hurt you, may be safe. Methinks I am not without appearance of cause, as if you were Cyclopes or Cannibals, to desire that our prince’s body, which hath thirty years maintained us in a flourishing peace, be not torn in pieces, or devoured among you, but may be suffered to yield itself, which never was defiled with any of your bloods, to the natural rest of the earth. Methinks, not as to Arcadians renowned for your faith to prince, and love of country, but as to sworn enemies of this sweet soil. I am to desire you, that at least, if you will have strangers to your princes, yet you will not deliver the seigniory of this goodly kingdom to your noble king’s murderers. Lastly, I have reason, as if I had to speak to madmen, to desire you to be good to yourselves: for before God, what either barbarous violence or unnatural folly, hath not this day had his seat in your minds, and left his footsteps in your actions? but in troth I love you too well to stand long displaying your faults: I would you yourselves did forget them, so you did not fall again into them. For my part, I had much rather be an orator of your praises. But now, if you will suffer attentive judgment, and not forejudging passion, to be the weigher of my words, I will deliver unto you what a blessed mean the gods have sent unto you, if you list to embrace it. I think there is none among you so young, either in years, or understanding, but hath heard the true fame of that just prince Euarchus, King of Macedon. A prince with whom our late master did ever hold most perfect alliance. He, even he, is this day come, having but twenty horse with him, within two miles of this place, hoping to have found the virtuous Basilius alive, but now willing to do honour to his death. Surely, surely the heavenly powers have in so full a time bestowed him on us to unite our divisions. For my part therefore I wish, that since among ourselves we cannot agree in so manifold partialities, we do put the ordering of all these things into his hands, as well touching the obsequies of the king, the punishment of his death, as the marriage and crowning of our princesses, he is both by experience and wisdom taught how to direct: his greatness such as no man can disdain to obey him: his equity such as no man need to fear him. Lastly, as he hath all these qualities to help, so hath he, though he would, no force to hurt. If therefore you so think good, since our laws bear that our prince’s murder be chastised before his murdered body be buried, we may invite him to sit to-morrow in the judgment seat; which done, you may after proceed to the burial.”

When Philanax first named Euarchus’ landing, there was a muttering murmur among the people, as though, in that evil ordered weakness of theirs he had come to conquer their country. But when they understood he had so small a retinue, whispering one with another, and looking who should begin to confirm Philanax’s proposition, at length Sympathus was the first that allowed it, then the rest of the noblemen; neither did Kalander strive, hoping so excellent a prince could not but deal graciously with two such young men, whose authority joined to Philanax, all the popular sort followed. Timautus still blinded with his own ambitious haste, not remembering factions are no longer to be trusted, than the factious may be persuaded it is for their own good, would needs strive against the stream, exclaiming against Philanax, that now he showed who it was that would betray his country to strangers. But well he found, that who is too busy in the foundation of an house, may pull the building about his ears. For the people already tired with their own divisions, of which his clampring had been a principal nurse, and beginning now to espy a haven of rest, hated anything that should hinder them from it: asking one another whether this were not he whose evil tongue no man could escape? whether it were not Timautus that made the first mutinous oration, to strengthen the troubles? whether Timautus, without their consent, had not gone about to deliver Gynecia? And thus inflaming one another against him, they threw him out of the assembly, and after pursued him with stones and staves, so that with loss of one of his eyes, sore wounded and beaten, he was fain to fly to Philanax’s feet, for succour of his life; giving a true lesson, that vice itself is forced to seek the sanctuary of virtue. For Philanax, who hated his evil, but not his person, and knew that a just punishment might by the manner be unjustly done; remembering withal that although herein the people’s rage might have hit rightly, yet if it were nourished in this, no man knew to what extremities it might extend itself, with earnest dealing, and employing the uttermost of his authority he did protect the trembling Timautus. And then having taken a general oath, that they should in the nonage of the princess, or till these things were settled, yield full obedience to Euarchus, so far as were not prejudicial to the laws, customs and liberties of Arcadia: and having taken a particular bond of Sympathus, under whom he had a servant of his own, that the prisoners should be kept close, without conference with any man: he himself honourably accompanied with a great number of torches, went to the King Euarchus, whose coming in this sort into Arcadia had thus fallen out.

The woeful Prince Plangus receiving of Basilius no other succours, but only certain to conduct him to Euarchus, made all possible speed towards Byzantium, where he understood the king, having concluded all his wars with the winning of that town, had now for some good space made his abode. But being far gone on his way, he received certain intelligence, that Euarchus was not only some days before returned into Macedon, but since was gone with some haste to visit that coast of his country that lay towards Italy; the occasion given by the Latines, who having already gotten into their hands, partly by conquest and partly by confederacy, the greatest part of Italy, and long gaped to devour Greece also, observing the present opportunity of Euarchus’s absence, and Basilius’s solitariness, which two princes they knew to be in effect the whole strength of Greece, were even ready to lay an unjust gripe upon it, which after they might beautify with the noble name of conquest. Which purpose though they made not known by any solemn denouncing of war, but contrariwise gave many tokens of continuing still their former amity: yet the staying of his subjects’ ships, trafficking as merchants into those parts, together with the daily preparation of shipping, and other warlike provisions in ports, most convenient for the transporting of soldiers, occasioned Euarchus, not unacquainted with such practices, first to suspect, then to discern, lastly to seek to prevent the intended mischief. Yet thinking war never to be accepted until it be offered by the hand of necessity, he determined so long openly to hold them his friends, as open hospitality betrayed them not his enemies, nor ceasing in the meantime by letters and messages to move the states of Greece, by uniting their strength, to make timely provision against this peril; by many reasons making them see that, though in respect of place some of them might seem further removed from the first violence of the storm, yet being embarked in the same ship, the final wreck must needs be common to them all. And knowing the mighty force of example, with the weak effect of fair discourses, not waited on with agreeable actions, what he persuaded them, himself performed, leaving in his own realm nothing either undone or unprovided which might be thought necessary for withstanding an invasion. His first care was to put his people in a readiness for war, and by his experienced soldiers to train the unskilful to martial exercises. For the better effecting whereof, as also for meeting with other inconveniences in such doubtful times incident to the most settled states, making of the divers regions of his whole kingdom so many divisions as he thought convenient, he appointed the charge of them to the greatest, and of greatest trust he had about him: arming them with sufficient authority to levy forces within their several governments, both for the resisting the invading enemy, and punishing the disordered subject.

Having thus prepared the body, and assured the heart of his country against any mischief that might attaint it, he then took into his careful consideration the external parts, giving order both for the repairing and increasing his navy, and for the fortifying of such places, especially on the sea coast, as either commodity of landing, weakness of the country, or any other respect of advantage was likeliest to draw the enemy unto. But being none of them who think all things done, for which they have once given direction, he followed everywhere his commandment with his presence, which witnessed of every man’s slackness or diligence, chastising the one, and encouraging the other, suffered not the fruit of any profitable counsel for want of timely taking to be lost. And thus making one place succeed another in the progress of wisdom and virtue, he was now come to Aulon a principal port of his realm, when the poor Plangus extremely wearied with his long journey, desire of succouring Erona no more relieving, than fear of not succouring her in time, aggravating his travel, by a lamentable narration of his children’s death, called home his cares from encountering foreign enemies, to suppress the insurrection of inward passions. The matter so heinous, the manner so villainous, the loss of such persons, in so unripe years, in a time so dangerous to the whole state of Greece, how vehemently it moved to grief and compassion others, only not blind to the light of virtue, nor deaf to the voice of their country, might perchance by a more cunning workman in lively colours be delivered. But the face of Euarchus’s sorrow, to the one in nature, to both in affection a father, and judging the world so much the more unworthily deprived of those excellencies, as himself was better judge of so excellent worthiness, can no otherwise be shadowed out by the skilfullest pencil than by covering it over with the veil of silence. And indeed that way himself took, with so patient a quietness receiving this pitiful relation, that all words of weakness suppressed, magnanimity seemed to triumph over misery. Only receiving of Plangus perfect instruction of all things concerning Plexirtus and Artaxia, with promise not only to aid him in delivering Erona, but also with vehement protestation never to return into Macedon, till he had pursued the murderers to death, he dispatched with speed a ship for Byzantium, commanding the governor to provide all necessaries for the war against his own coming, which he purposed should be very shortly. In this ship Plangus would needs go, impatient of stay, for that in many days before he had understood nothing of his lady’s estate. Soon after whose departure, news was brought to Euarchus, that all the ships detained in Italy were returned. For the Latines finding by Euarchus’s proceedings their intent to be frustrate, as before by his sudden return they doubted it was discovered, deeming it no wisdom to show the will, not having the ability to hurt, had not only in free and friendly manner dismissed them, but for that time wholly omitted their enterprise attending the opportunity of fitter occasion. By means whereof Euarchus, rid from the cumber of that war, likely otherwise to have stayed him longer, with so great a fleet as haste would suffer him to assemble, forthwith embarked for Byzantium. And now followed with fresh winds he had in a short time run a long course, when on a night encountered with an extreme tempest, his ships were so scattered that scarcely any two were left together. As for the king’s own ship, deprived of all company, sore bruised, and weather beaten, able no longer to brook the sea’s churlish entertainment, a little before day it recovered the shore. The first light made them see it was the unhappy coast of Laconia: for no other country could have shown the like evidence of unnatural war. Which having long endured between the nobility and the Helots, and once compounded by Pyrocles, under the name of Daiphantus, immediately upon his departure had broken out more violently than ever before. For the king taking opportunity of their captain’s absence, refused to perform the conditions of peace as extorted from him by rebellious violence. Whereupon they were again deeply entered into war, with so notable an hatred towards the very name of a king, that Euarchus, though a stranger unto them, thought it not safe there to leave his person, where neither his own force could be a defence, nor the sacred name of majesty, a protection. Therefore calling to him an Arcadian, one that coming with Plangus had remained with Euarchus, desirous to see the wars, he demanded of him for the next place of surety where he might make his stay until he might hear somewhat of his fleet, or cause his ship to be repaired. The gentleman glad to have this occasion of doing service to Euarchus, and honour to Basilius, to whom he knew he should bring a most welcome guest, told him, that if it pleased him to commit himself to Arcadia, a part whereof lay open to their view, he would undertake ere the next night were far spent to guide him safely to his master Basilius. The present necessity much prevailed with Euarchus, yet more a certain virtuous desire to try whether by his authority he might withdraw Basilius from burying himself alive, and to employ the rest of his old years in doing good, the only happy action of man’s life. For besides the universal case of Greece, deprived by this means of a principal pillar, he weighed and pitied the pitiful state of the Arcadian people, who were in worse case than if death had taken away their prince. For so yet their necessity would have placed someone to the helm; now, a prince being, and not doing like a prince, keeping and not exercising the place, they were in so much more evil case, as they could not provide for their evil.

These rightly wise and virtuous considerations especially moved Euarchus to take his journey towards the deserts, where arriving within night, and understanding to his great grief the news of the prince’s death, he waited for his safe conduct from Philanax; in the meantime taking his rest under a tree, with no more affected pomps than as a man that knew, howsoever he was exalted, the beginning and end of his body was earth. But Philanax as soon as he was in sight of him, alighting from his horse, presented himself unto him in all those humble behaviours, which not only the great reverence of the party, but the conceit of one’s own misery, is wont to frame: Euarchus rose up unto him, with so gracious a countenance, as the goodness of his mind had long exercised him unto; careful so much more to descend in all courtesies, as he saw him bear a low representation of his afflicted state. But to Philanax, as soon as by near looking on him, he might perfectly behold him, the gravity of his countenance and years, not much unlike to his late deceased, but ever beloved master, brought his form so lively into his memory, and revived so all the thoughts of his wonted joys within him, that instead of speaking to Euarchus, he stood a while like a man gone a far journey from himself, calling as it were with his mind an account of his losses, imagining that this pain needed not, if nature had not been violently stopped of her own course; and casting more loving than wise conceits, what a world would this have been if this sudden accident had not interrupted it. And so far strayed he into his raving melancholy that his eyes, nimbler than his tongue, let fall a flood of tears, his voice being stopped with extremity of sobbing, so much had his friendship carried him to Basilius that he thought no age was timely for his death. But at length taking the occasion of his own weeping, he thus did speak to Euarchus: “Let not my tears, most worthily renowned prince, make my presence unpleasant, or my speech unmarked of you. For the justice of the cause takes away the blame of any weakness in me; and the affinity that the same beareth to your greatness, seems even lawfully to claim pity in you: a prince of a prince’s fall, a lover of justice, of a most unjust violence. And give me leave, excellent Euarchus, to say, I am but the representer of all the late flourishing Arcadia, which now with mine eyes doth weep, with my tongue doth complain, with my knees doth lay itself at your feet, which never have been unready to carry you to the virtuous protecting of innocents. Imagine, vouchsafe to imagine, most wise and good king, that here is before your eyes the pitiful spectacle of a most dolorously ending tragedy; wherein I do but play the part of all the new miserable province, which being spoiled of their guide, doth lie like a ship without a pilot, tumbling up and down in the uncertain waves, till it either run itself upon the rocks of self-division, or be overthrown by the stormy wind of foreign force. Arcadia finding herself in these desolate terms, doth speak, and I speak for her, to thee not vainly puissant prince, that since now she is not only robbed of the natural support of her lord, but so suddenly robbed that she hath not breathing time to stand for her safety: so unfortunately, that it doth appall their minds, though they had leisure; and so mischievously, that it doth exceed both the suddenness and unfortunateness of it; thou wilt lend thine arm unto her, and, as a man, take compassion of mankind; as a virtuous man, chastise most abominable vice; and as a prince protect a people, which all have with one voice called for thy goodness, thinking that as thou art only able, so thou art fully able, to redress their imminent ruins. They do therefore with as much confidence as necessity, fly unto you for succour, they lay themselves open unto you: to you, I mean yourself such as you have ever been: that is to say, one that hath always had his determinations bounded with equity. They only reserve the right to Basilius’s blood; the manner to the ancient prescribing of their laws. For the rest without exception they yield over unto you, as to the elected protector of this kingdom, which name and office they beseech you, till you have laid a sufficient foundation of tranquility, to take upon you; the particularity both of their statutes and demands you shall presently after understand. Now only I am to say unto you, that this country falls to be a fair field, to prove whether the goodly tree of your virtue will live in all soils. Here I say will be seen, whether either fear can make you short, or the lickerishness of dominion make you beyond justice. And I can for conclusion say no more but this, you must think upon my words, and on your answer depends not only the quiet, but the lives of so many thousands, which for their ancient confederacy, in this their extreme necessity, desire neither the expense of your treasure, nor hazard of your subjects, but only the benefit of your wisdom, whose both glory and increase stands in the exercising of it.”