“Ah! why,” she exclaimed, “was I exalted so high, only to be plunged into such depth of misery? Why was I not made of lower condition, so, haply, I had escaped such grief? The joy of my youth is plucked up, the comfort of my age is withered! Who is more wretched than I?” And she refused to be comforted.
The last wish of her son was read to her, and she resolved to perform that one remaining duty and then retire to solitude, to indulge her grief for the remainder of her life. She ordered her servants to go into the city and bring to the palace such as the will of Alexander directed—selecting those who were the poorest. But the messengers, ere long, returned, and said that there were none of that description to be found among the poor. “Go then,” said the queen, “and apply to all classes, and return not without bringing some who have never lost any who were dear to them.” And the order was proclaimed through all the city, and all heard it and passed on.
The neighboring villages gave no better success; and the search was extended through all the country; and they went over all Macedonia, and throughout Greece, and at every house they stood and cried, “If there are any here who have never known misery, and never lost those that were dear to them, let them come out, and receive the bounty of the queen;” but none came forth. And they went to the haunts of the gay, and into the libraries of the philosophers; to the seats of public office, and to the caves of hermits; they searched among the rich, and among the poor—among the high and among the low; but not one person was found who had not tasted misery; and they reported the result to the queen.
“It is strange!” said she, as if struck with sudden astonishment. “Are there none who have not lost their friend? And is my condition the condition of all? It is not credible. Are there none here, in this room, in this palace, who have always been happy?” But there was no reply to the inquiry.
“You, young page, whose countenance is gay, what sorrow have you ever known?”
“Alas! madam, my father was killed in the wars of Alexander, and my mother, through grief, has followed him!”
The question was put to others; but every one had lost a brother, a father, or a mother. “Can it be,” said the queen, “can it be that all are as I am?”
“All are as you are, madam,” said an old man that was present, “excepting in these splendors and these consolations. By poverty and humility you might have lost the alleviations, but, you could not have escaped the blow. There are nights without a star; but there are no days without a cloud. To suffer is the lot of all; to bear, the glory of a few.”
“I recognize,” said the queen, “the wisdom of Alexander!” and she bowed in resignation, and wept no more.
—Horace Binney Wallace.