by Charles Swan
While these things were going on, Taliarchus, who had been despatched by Antiochus to destroy the prince, observing every house shut up, and the signs of mourning general, asked a boy the occasion of it. “Sir,” replied he, “are you ignorant of this matter, that you ask me? Understand, then, that Apollonius, prince of this country, having returned from a visit to King Antiochus, is nowhere to be found.” Much rejoiced at what he heard, Taliarchus returned to his vessel, and sailed back again to his own country.* Presenting himself to the king, he exclaimed, “Be happy, my lord; Apollonius, through dread of you, is not to be found anywhere.” He has fled,” returned the king; “but long he shall not escape me.” And he immediately put forth an edict to this effect: “Whosoever brings before me the traitor Apollonius shall receive fifty talents of gold; but whosoever presents me with his head shall be rewarded with a hundred.” This tempting proposal stimulated not only his enemies, but his pretended friends, to follow him, and many dedicated their time and activity to the pursuit. They traversed sea and land, near and remote countries, but he fortunately escaped their search. The malicious king fitted out a navy for the same purpose, and commanded them to proceed with the utmost diligence in their employment.
Apollonius, however, arrived safely at Tharsus, and walking along the shore, he was distinguished by a certain slave of his own household, called Elinatus,† who happened that very hour to have reached it. Approaching, he made obeisance to the prince, and Apollonius, recognizing him, returned his salute as great men are wont to do; for he thought him contemptible. The old man, indignant at his reception, again saluted him, “Hail, King Apollonius! Return my salute, and despise not poverty, if it be ornamented by honest deeds. Did you know what I know, you would be cautious.” “May it please you to tell me what you know ? “answered the prince. “You are proscribed,” returned the other.
“And who shall dare proscribe a prince in his own land?”
“Antiochus has done it.”
“Antiochus! For what cause?”
“Because you sought to be what the father of his daughter is.”
“And what is the price of my proscription?”
“He who shall take you alive is to receive fifty talents of gold; but for your head he will have a hundred. And therefore I caution you to be upon your guard.”
Saying this, Elinatus went his way. Apollonius recalled him, and proffered the hundred talents of gold which had been set upon his head. “Take,” said he, “so much of my poverty; thou hast merited it: cut off my head, and gratify the malicious king. You possess the sum, and still you are innocent. I engage you, therefore, of my own free will, to do so great a pleasure to him who seeks my destruction.” “My lord,” answered the old man, “far be it from me to take away your life for hire; the friendship of good men is of more value, and cannot be bought.” Then, returning thanks to the prince for his munificence, he departed. But as Apollonius tarried on the shore, he perceived a person named Stranguilio approaching him with a sorrowful aspect, and every now and then uttering a deep lament. “Hail, Stranguilio !” said the prince. “Hail, my lord the king !” was his reply. “You appear concerned; tell me what occasions it?”
“To say truth,” returned Apollonius, “it is because I have required the daughter of a king in marriage. Can I conceal myself in your country?” “My lord,” answered Stranguilio, “our city is extremely poor, and cannot sustain your attendants, in consequence of a grievous famine which has wasted the land. Our citizens are hopeless and helpless; and death, with all its accompanying horrors, is before our eyes.” “Give thanks to God,” replied Apollonius, “who hath driven me a fugitive to your shores. If you will conceal my flight, I will present to you a hundred thousand measures of corn.” Full of joy, Stranguilio prostrated himself at the feet of the prince, and exclaimed, “My lord, if you will assist our starving city we will not only conceal your flight, but, if necessary, unsheath our swords in your defence.” Apollonius, therefore, hastened into the forum, and ascending the tribunal, spoke thus to the assembled population: “Men of Tharsus, understanding that an afflicting dearth of provisions troubles you, I, Apollonius, proffer aid. I believe that you will not forget the benefit I render you, but conceal my flight from those who unjustly pursue me. Ye know what the malice of Antiochus aims at, and by what providence I am brought hither to relieve you in this terrible emergency. I present to you a hundred thousand measures of com at the price I gave for it in my own country—that is, at eight pieces for each measure.” The citizens, delighted at what they heard, gave thanks to God, and immediately prepared the com for use. (21)
But Apollonius, not forgetting the dignity of a king in the traffic of a merchant, returned the purchase-money to the state; and the people, struck with wonder at this unexpected instance of generosity, erected in the forum a chariot drawn by four horses, running side by side. In the car was a statue, representing Apollonius with his right hand rubbing the com from the ear. His left foot trampled upon it; and on the pediment they placed the following inscription:—“APOLLONIUS, PRINCE OF TYRE, BY A GIFT TO THE CITY OF THARSUS, PRESERVED ITS INHABITANTS FROM A CRUEL DEATH.”* A few days afterwards, by the advice of Stranguilio and his wife Dionysias,† the prince determined to sail for Pentapolis, ‡ a city of the Tyrrheni, where he might remain in greater tranquillity and opulence.* They brought him, therefore, with much ceremony to the sea-shore; and then bidding his hosts farewell, he embarked. For three days and nights he sailed with favourable winds; but after losing sight of the Tharsian coast, they veered round, and blew from the north with great violence. The rain fell in heavy showers, mixed with hail; and the ship was carried away by the fury of the storm. Dark clouds brooded over them; and the blast, still increasing, threatened them with immediate death. The crew, imagining all was lost, caught hold of planks, and committed themselves to the mercy of the waves. In the extreme darkness that followed, all perished. But Apollonius, riding on a plank, was cast upon the Pentapofitan shore; on which, after quitting the water, he stood thoughtfully, and fixing his eyes upon the ocean, now in a calm, exclaimed, “Oh, ye faithless waves ! better had I fallen into the hands of that savage king!—to whom shall I now go? What country shall I seek? Who will afford succour to an unknown and helpless stranger ? “As he spoke this, he beheld a young man coming towards him. He was a robust, hard-favoured fisherman, clad in a coarse frock. Apollonius, driven by his distresses, humbly besought this man’s assistance, even with tears starting from his eyes. “Pity me,” said he, “whosoever thou art; pity a man stripped of all by shipwreck—one to whom better days have been familiar, and who is descended from no ignoble family. But that you may know whom you succour, understand that I am a prince of Tyre, and that my name is Apollonius. Save, then, my life, I entreat you.” The fisherman, compassionating his sufferings, brought him to his own roof, and placed such as he had before him. And that there might be no deficiency in the charitable part he was acting, he divided his cloak, and gave one-half to the stranger; “Take,” said the benevolent man, “take what I can give, and go into the city; there, perhaps, you will find one with more power to serve you than I am. If you are unsuccessful in your search, return hither to me. What poverty can provide you shall share. Yet, should you hereafter be restored to your throne, do not forget or despise the coarse, threadbare cloak of the poor fisherman.”* “Pear not,” said Apollonius; “should I prove ungrateful may I be shipwrecked again, nor find in my extremity a man like yourself.” As he spoke, the fisherman pointed out the way to the city gates, which Apollonius shortly entered.
Whilst he reflected upon the path he should pursue, he beheld a naked boy running along the street, having his head anointed with oil, and bound with a napkin.† The youth lustily vociferated, “Hear, hear, pilgrims or slaves; whosoever would be washed, let him haste to the gymnasium.” Apollonius, according to the proclamation, entered the bath, and pulling off his cloak, made use of the water. Whilst he was doing this, he cast his eyes around to discover some one of an
equality with himself; and at last Altistrates,‡ king of all that country, entered with a troop of his attendants. The king played with them at tennis; * and Apollonius running forward, caught up the ball, and, striking it with inconceivable skill and rapidity, returned it to the royal player. The king, motioning to his servants, said, “Give up your sport, give up your sport; for I suspect this youth is as good a player as I am.”† Apollonius, flattered by this praise, approached the king, and catching up an unguent,‡ with a dexterous hand anointed the king’s body. Then, having gratefully administered a bath, he departed. After he was gone, “I swear to you,” said his majesty to his surrounding friends, “that I have never bathed so agreeably as I have done to-day by the kindness of a youth whom I do not know. “Go,” added he, to one of the attendants, “go, and inquire who he is.” He followed accordingly, and beheld him equipped in the mean cloak received from the fisherman. Eetuming to the king, he said, “The youth is one who has suffered shipwreck.” “How do you know!” replied he. “The man said nothing,” answered the servant, “but his dress pointed out his circumstances.” “Go quickly,” returned the king, “and say that I entreat him to sup with me.” Apollonius was content, and accompanied the servant back. The latter, approaching the sovereign, stated the return of the shipwrecked person, but that, ashamed of his mean habit, he was unwilling to enter. The king instantly gave command that he should be clothed in honourable apparel, and introduced to the supper-room.
Apollonius therefore entered the royal drawing-room, and was placed opposite to the king. Dinner was brought, and then supper. He feasted not, however, with the feasters, but continually cast his eye upon the gold and silver ornaments of the table, and wept. One of the guests observing this, said to the king, “He envies your regal magnificence, unless I am much deceived.” “You suspect unhappily,” answered he; “he does not envy me, but laments somewhat that he has lost.” * Then, turning to Apollonius, with a smiling countenance he said, “Young man, feast with us to-day, and hope that God has better things in store for you.” As he thus endeavoured to raise the drooping spirits of the youth, his daughter, a beautiful girl, entered, and first kissed her father, and then those who were his guests.† When she had gone through this ceremony, she returned to the king, and said, “My dear father, who is that young man reclining opposite to you in the place of honour, and whose grief appears so excessive?” “Sweet daughter,” answered he, “that is a shipwrecked youth, who pleased me to-day in the gymnasium; therefore I invited him to supper; but who he is I know not. If you wish to ascertain this, ask him —it becomes you to know all things; and perhaps, when you are made acquainted with his sorrows, you may compassionate and relieve them.” The girl, happy in the permission, approached the young man, and said, “Good friend, kindness proves nobility: if it be not troublesome, tell me your name and fortunes.” “Would you inquire my name?” replied he: “I lost it in the sea; or my nobility? I left it in Tyre.” “Speak intelligibly,” said the girl; and Apollonius then related his name and adventures.* When he had made an end he wept, and the king, perceiving his tears, said to his daughter, “My dear child, you did ill to inquire the name and occurrences of the young man’s life. You have renewed his past griefs.† But since he has revealed the truth, it is right that you should show the liberty you enjoy as queen.” The lady complied with the wishes of her father, and looking upon the youth, exclaimed, “You are our knight, Apollonius! * Put away your afflictions, and my father will make you rich.” Apollonius thanked her with modesty and lamentation. Then said the king, “Bring hither your lyre, and add song to the banquet.” She commanded the instrument to be brought, and began to touch it with infinite sweetness. Applause followed the performance. “There never was,” said the courtiers, “a better or a sweeter song.” Apollonius alone was silent, and his want of politeness drew from the king a remark. “You do an unhandsome thing. Everybody else extols my daughter’s musical skill; why then do you only discommend it?” “Most gracious king,” replied he, “permit me to say what I think. Your daughter comes near to musical pre-eminence, but has not yet attained it. Command, therefore, a lyre to be given me, and you shall then know what you are now ignorant of.” “I perceive,” observed the king, “that you are universally learned,” and directed a lyre to be presented to him. Apollonius retired for a few moments, and decorated his head; then, re-entering the dining-room, he took the instrument, and struck it so gracefully and delightfully that they unanimously agreed that it was the harmony not of APOLLONIUS, but Of APOLLO.†
When they were gone, Apollonius also arose, and said, “Excellent king, pitier of the distressed! and you, O queen, lover of study and friend of philosophy, fare ye well.” Then addressing the servants bestowed upon him, he commanded them to bear away the presents he had received to an hostelry; but the girl, who became apprehensive of losing her lover, looked sorrowfully at her parent, and said, “Best king and father, does it please you that Apollonius, whom we have so lately enriched, should leave us? The goods we have given him will be purloined by wicked men.” The king admitted this, and assigned him apartments in the palace, where he lived in great honour.
But the lady’s affection so much increased, that it deprived her of all rest; and in the morning she hastened to the bedside of her father. Surprised at the early visit, he inquired what had roused her at so unusual an hour. “I have been unable to sleep,” answered the lady; “and I wish you to permit me to receive instructions in music from the young stranger.” The king, pleased with his daughter’s zeal for improvement, cheerfully assented, and commanded the youth to be brought into his presence. “Apollonius,” said he,” my daughter is extremely desirous of learning your science; if you will instruct her, I will reward you abundantly.” * “My lord,” he answered, “I am ready to comply with your wishes; “and, accordingly, the girl was placed under his tuition. But her love preyed upon her health, and she visibly declined. Physicians were called in, and they had recourse to the usual expedients;* but the diagnostics led them to no certain conclusion.
In a few days three young noblemen, who had long desired to espouse the lady, presented themselves before the king, and besought his favour. “You have often promised us,” said they, “that one or the other should marry your daughter. We are rich, and of noble lineage: choose, then, which of us shall be your son-in-law.” “You come,” replied the king, “at an unseasonable time. My daughter is unable to follow her usual pursuits, and for this reason languishes on her bed. But that I may not appear to you unnecessarily to protract your uncertainty, write each of you your names, and the settlement you will make her. She shall examine them, and chuse between ye.” The suitors complied, and gave the writings to the king, who read, and sealed, and then despatched Apollonius with them to the lady. As soon as she beheld him whom she loved, she exclaimed, “Sir, how is it that you enter my chamber alone?” He presented the writings which her father had sent, and, having opened them, she read the names and proposals of the three suitors. Casting them aside, she said to Apollonius, “Sir, are you not sorry that I must be married? ““No,” returned he; “whatever is for your honour is pleasant to me.” “Ah! master, master,” continued the girl; “but if you loved me, you would grieve.” She wrote back her answer, sealed, and delivered it to Apollonius to carry to the king. It ran in these words: “Royal sir and father, since you have permitted me to write my wishes, I do write them. I will espouse him who was shipwrecked.” The king read, but not knowing which of them had been in this predicament, he said to the contending parties,” Which of you has been shipwrecked?” One, whose name was Ardonius, replied, “I have, my lord.” “What!” cried another, “diseases confound thee; mayst thou be neither safe nor sound. I know perfectly well that thou hast never been beyond the gates of the city; where, then, wert thou shipwrecked? “When the king could not discover the shipwrecked suitor, he turned to Apollonius, and said, “Take thou the tablets and read; perhaps they will be more intelligible to you than they are to me
.” He took them, and running his eye over the contents, perceived that he was the person designed, and that the lady loved him. He blushed. “Dost thou discover this shipwrecked person, Apollonius? “asked the king. He blushed still deeper, and made a brief reply. Now, in this the wisdom of Apollonius may be perceived, since, as it is in Eccles., “There is no wisdom in many words.” And in 1 Peter ii.: “Christ hath left you an example to be diligently followed, who never sinned, neither was deceit found in His mouth.” The same, also, the Psalmist declares: “As He said, so it was done;” wherefore He was to be called a true Israelite, in whom there was no guile. And John i.: “Therefore let us imitate Him in not cursing, nor rendering malediction for malediction, but reserve the tongue for blessing.” Thus shall it become the pen of a ready writer—that is, of the Holy Spirit, suddenly pouring forth its gifts; according as it is said, “Suddenly a noise was heard in heaven.” So 1 Peter iii. “He who would see happy days, let him refrain his tongue from evil, and his lips that they speak no guile: “that is, man ought not to murmur within himself, nor act outward evil; so shall he enjoy quietness in this life, and in the future, eternal rest. For the first prevents the outbreaking of reproachful words to the injury of his neighbours; and it is the beginning of eternal peace. So the Psalmist: “I will sleep and repose in peace.” For as the tongue of a good and quiet man is directed by the power of God; so the tongue of a malicious person is ministered unto by evil spirits. As it is written, “In our garden grows a whitethorn, upon which the birds rest.” By this garden we should understand the mouth, surrounded by a double hedge—to wit, the teeth and the lips—for no other cause than that we may place a guard upon the mouth, and speak nothing but what is in praise of God. The thorn in the garden is the tongue itself, so called from its likeness; because, as the material thorn pricks (St. Matt xxviii.: “Twining a crown of thorns, they placed it upon His head, and the blood flowed down His blessed body in consequence of the puncture of the thorns”, thus the thorn, that is the tongue, pierces a man—one while by taking away his good sense; at another, by falsehood; and then, again, by discovering the evil that there is in any person: all which ought carefully to be shunned. But the birds resting upon the thorn are the devils, who incline man to vice, so that he becomes their servant. Therefore they will exclaim, in the last day, “Cast this man to us, O righteous judge! for since he would not be thine in all virtue, he is ours in all malice.” Let every one of us keep in his tongue, which Cato declares to be the first virtue.