6. For the moment then we had by this incident escaped the plot laid against us; but we only gained one day. On the morrow came Chaereas at dawn: for very shame we could make no further excuses and got aboard a boat to go to Pharos; Menelaus stayed behind, saying that he was not well. Chaereas first took us to the light-house and shewed us the most remarkable and extraordinary structure upon which it rested; it was like a mountain, almost reaching the clouds, in the middle of the sea. Below the building flowed the waters; it seemed to be as it were suspended above their surface, while at the top of this mountain rose a second sun to be a guide for ships. After this he took us to his house, which was on the shore at the extremity of the island.
7. As soon as evening was come, Chaereas went out, alleging as a pretence the demands of nature. Not long after there was a sudden tumult at the door, and in rushed a large number of tall men, their swords drawn, all directing themselves upon the maiden. Seeing my dearest being taken from me, I could not bear it, and rushed into the fray; one of them wounded me with his sword in the thigh, and I sank to the ground. While I was thus falling, streaming with blood, they put her aboard a boat and made off. Such was the noise and tumult caused by the pirates that the commander of the island came up, who happened to be an acquaintance of mine because he had been in our former camp. I shewed him my wound and implored him to pursue the pirates. There were plenty of ships anchored there about the town; the commander entered one of them and went in chase, his bodyguard with him, while I followed them, carried aboard in a litter.
Directly the pirates saw our ship putting out to give them battle, they brought the maiden up on deck with her hands tied behind her; and one of them cried out with a tremendous voice, “Here is the prize for which you are contending,” cut off her head, and threw the body down into the sea. When I saw this, I cried out and wept, and would have cast myself in too; restrained from doing so by my companions, I begged them to stop the ship, and that somebody might be sent down into the water to see if I could rescue the maiden’s body with a view to its burial. The commander agreed, and stopped the ship; two of the sailors jumped overboard, got hold of the trunk and, brought it back to us. Meanwhile the pirates rowed with still greater vigour; we were again nearing them when they sighted another ship, and, on recognising it, called to it for help; its crew were purple-fishers, also pirates. When the commander saw that there were now two ships against him, he became disquieted and ordered the rowers to reverse; the pirates indeed had already desisted from their flight and were challenging us to give battle. We reached the land; I disembarked, and there, embracing the body, I gave vent to my tears: “Now,” I cried, “now, Leucippe, are you really dead; and a double death, with its share both in laud and sea. The poor remains of your body I possess, but you I have lost; the division between land and sea is no fair one; though there seems to be left to me the greater part of you, it is really the less, while that which seems to possess but a small part of you has really all. (The head being the noblest part of the an anatomy. No translation can make this laboured rhetoric anything but ridiculous.) Come, since Fate has grudged me kisses on your face, I will kiss instead your wounded neck.”
8. After this dirge, and after burying the body, I returned again to Alexandria; there my wound was tended, though against my will, Menelaus exhorting and comforting me, and I endured to live. Six months had now passed, and the intensity of my anguish began a little to fade: for time is the medicine of grief, healing the wounds of the soul — the light of the sun brings with it joy, and grief, however overwhelming it be, boils only while the soul is aflame, and cools when it is finally overcome by the influence of lapse of time. I was walking in the market-place when somebody behind me suddenly took hold of my hand and swung me round, and, without a word, seized me in his arms and kissed me warmly. At first I did not know who it was, but stood like one struck dumb, receiving his embraces — a mere target for kisses; but in a moment or so, when I saw his face, and it was Clinias, I shouted aloud for joy, and embraced him in return and gave him back the same endearments. After this we both went back to my lodgings, where he related to me his story, how he had escaped from the shipwreck, while I told him all that had come to pass in the matter of Leucippe.
9. “Immediately,” said he, “after the break-up of the ship, I climbed on to the yard; I obtained a hold of it with some difficulty, as it was already crowded, but I put my hands round it and tried to hang from it and keep it within my clutch. We had not long drifted upon it, when a mighty billow lifted the spar on high and dashed it, almost in a perpendicular position, upon a rock beneath the surface of the water, the impact being at the opposite end of it to that upon which I was hanging. After it actually struck, it sprang back again violently like a catapult, and shot me from it as though I had been flung from a sling. After that I swam for the rest of the day, though I no longer cherished any hope of being saved. I was already worn out and had given myself up to fate, when I saw a ship bearing towards me from straight in front; and so, lifting up my hands as well as I could, I entreated and prayed for their pity by gestures. They, either taking compassion upon me or because the wind so impelled them, came quite close by me, and one of the sailors flung me a rope without the vessel pausing in her course; I caught hold of it and so they dragged me up from the very gates of death. The vessel was bound for Sidon, and some of those who were on board knew who I was and looked after me.
10. “After a voyage of two days we arrived at that city, and I asked the Sidonians on board (Xenodamas the merchant, and Theophilus his father-in-law) not to mention to any Tyrian that they might meet how I had escaped from the shipwreck, so that it might not be known that I had fled from the country with you. I hoped, that if they kept quiet on these matters, my absence might escape notice; there were only five days while I had been away and not been seen about, and, as you know, (This detail is not, as a matter of fact, mentioned in the account of the flight of Clinias and Clitophon from Tyre.) I had instructed those of my household to tell anybody that came making inquiries that I had gone away to my country seat for ten full days; and I found that, as a fact, this report about me held the field. Your father did not return from his absence in Palestine (It is mentioned in II. xxx that Hippias had gone away for a few days, but his destination is not there given.) until two days later; and he then found a letter had arrived from Leucippe’s father (Sostratus.) — it had come the very day after our flight — betrothing his daughter to you. He was doubly distressed when he read the letter and heard of your flight; first, because of the loss of the prize (Not very clear; was Leucippe herself the prize? And if so, could Hippias be said to have lost her? Or is the reference to her dowry, which would thus come from the family of Sostratus to that of Hippias?) which the letter brought, and second, because Fortune had arranged that you should suffer by so narrow a margin; none of all these misfortunes would have happened if the letter had come a little sooner. He decided that he had better not write to his brother an account of what had happened, and he also asked the girl’s mother (Panthea.)to keep silence for the present; ‘We shall probably soon find them,’ he said, ‘and there is no necessity for Sostratus to know the misfortune that has befallen us. Wherever they are, they will be only too glad to come back when they hear of the betrothal, as they may thus openly attain the very object of their flight.’ He did his very utmost to find out where you had gone; and just a few days ago there came one, Diophantus of Tyre, who had lately come by sea from Egypt, and told him that he had seen you there. When I learned how things were, I instantly took ship hither, and this is now the eighth day that I have been scouring the city in search of you. You have to make up your mind as to your future plans, as your father will very soon be here.”
11. Hearing this story, I cried aloud at the prank that Fortune had played me: “Cruel goddess,” I said, “this is the time that Sostratus chooses to give me Leucippe — an espousal coming from the field of war (The πόλεμος Θρακικός of I. iii. § G.) — so exac
tly measuring his time that his message should not arrive before our flight. Alas for my untimely good luck! How happy could I have been with one day’s difference! After death comes a wedding, after the dirge the marriage-hymn. What sort of a bride is this that Fate gives me? Why, she has not even given her to me in the shape of a whole corpse.”
“This is not the time,” said Clinias, “for lamentations; but let us consider whether it would be best for you to return at once to your own country or to wait for your father here.”
“Neither,” said I: “with what sort of countenance could I meet my father, after first fleeing from him in an underhand manner, and then being the destruction of the charge entrusted to him by his brother? There is nothing that I can do except to make my escape before he arrives.” While I was thus speaking, in came Menelaus and Satyrus with him; after embracing Clinias they heard the whole story from us. “You have the chance,” said Satyrus, “of putting your fortunes in a fine position and at the same time of shewing pity to a soul that is all afire for your sake. Let Clinias hear the state of affairs as well; Aphrodite offers this fellow a real prize, and he will not stretch out his hand to take it. She has made to dote on him a woman so beautiful that you might take her for a lovely statue; she is an Ephesian by race, her name is Melitte; she is very rich, and young. Her husband has lately been lost at sea, and now she is willing to take this fellow to be — I will not say her husband, (I am not quite certain of the meaning of this phrase. It may either be that Clitophon was to marry her, but to have more domination over herself and her riches than an ordinary husband; or, more probably, that he was not to be her husband, but in the more advantageous position of amant en titre.) but — her lord and master; she offers him herself and all that she possesses. On his account she has now spent four months here asking him to be her companion on her journey home, but he, for some reason which I cannot fathom, is too proud to consent; I suppose that he thinks that his Leucippe will come to life again.”
12. “Satyrus,” said Clinias, “seems to me to talk reason. When beauty, wealth, and love beckon you all at once, it is no time for sitting down and procrastination: her beauty will bring you pleasure, her wealth luxurious living, and her love the respect (αiδώs is here difficult to translate: it may mean self respect, or respect shewn to others, or respect shewn by others. I have preferred the third possibility.) of men. God hates the proud, so come, allow yourself to be persuaded by Satyrus and obey God’s will.”
“Take me where you will,” I said, with a groan, “if Clinias too approves; but on the one condition that this tiresome woman shall not trouble and press me to become her husband in deed until we arrive at Ephesus; I have some time ago taken an oath that I will have nothing to do with any woman here where t lost Leucippe.” Immediately that Satyrus heard this, he hurried to Melitte to take her the good news and very soon returned to report that when she had heard his message she very nearly expired from delight; also, that I must go that very day to dine with her as the prelude to our coming union. I agreed to this and repaired to her.
13. When she saw me, she jumped up, embraced me and covered my face with kisses. She was indeed beautiful; you might describe her face as of the colour and texture of milk, (A literal translation would be: “that her face had been anointed with milk.” I have had to have recourse to something of a paraphrase.) the rose also growing in her cheeks; her look shone with a splendour proper to the goddess of love, and her hair was long and thick and golden, so that I had to admit that it was not without pleasure that I beheld her. The dinner she provided was sumptuous; she took a portion of the meats set before her, so as to appear to eat, but could swallow nothing of the food; she did nothing but gaze upon me. To lovers there is no delight save in the object of love, which occupies the whole of their soul, and leaves no place in it for the pleasures of the table. The pleasure which comes from vision enters by the eyes and makes its home in the breast; bearing with it ever the image of the beloved, it impresses it upon the mirror of the soul and leaves there its image; the emanation given off by beauty travels by invisible rays to the lovesick heart and imprints upon it its photograph. Realizing the position, I said to her, “How is this? Do you take nothing of the dainties you have yourself provided? You consume no more than those who are painted as eating.”
“What costly dish,” said she, “what wine could be more agreeable to me than the sight of you?” As she spoke, she kissed me, and it was not without pleasure that I received her kisses; then, as she tore herself from me— “That is my sustenance,” she said.
14. F or the time we continued in this manner; and when evening came she did her best to make me pass the night there. I, however, begged to be excused, using the same words to her that I had previously spoken to Satyrus. She let me go, though hardly and in distress; and it was agreed upon between us that the next day we should meet at the temple of Isis in order to discuss our future and take the goddess as witness to our troth. Menelaus and Clinias came there with us, and we took oaths, I to love her honourably, and she to make me her husband and declare me master of all that she possessed, “Our actual arrival at Ephesus,” I said, “must be time enough for you for the completion of our nuptials; here, as I said, you must be content to give place to Leucippe.” A rich banquet was then prepared for us: it was called a wedding breakfast, though we had agreed to defer the consummation of the marriage. I remember a good joke made by Melitte during the feast; the guests were calling down blessings upon our espousals, when she quietly nodded towards me, saying: “I seem to be unique in having an unheard of experience, and one that generally happens only in the case of the dead whose bodies cannot be found; I have often seen a tenantless catafalque, (κeνοτάφιον can he represented in English, and we have adopted the same word, cenotaph, for an empty memorial or tomb. But we have no proper expression for κeιατγάμιον, a mariage blanc.) but never a tenantless marriage-bed” — a jest that was half in earnest.
15. On the next day we made our preparations for departure, being by good chance invited by a favourable wind. Menelaus came with us to the harbour and bade us god-speed, telling us that on this occasion we should find a sea that was more friendly to us; he then left us, a young man who was the truest of friends and of a nature better than mortal; his eyes filled with tears and we were all constrained to weep in return. Clinias decided not to leave me, but to sail with me as far as Ephesus, and, after remaining some time in that city, to return if he found my future prospects in fair case. The wind was fair behind us; it was now evening and we had dined and were retiring to rest; Melitte and I had a cabin to ourselves which had been built (Literally, “fenced round”; doubtless a temporary structure.)on the upper deck; and there she flung her arms about me, kissed me, and asked me for the full rites of marriage: “Now,” said she, “we have traversed Leucippe’s boundaries and reached those of your promises; now begins the time when they are to be fulfilled. Why must I wait for our arrival at Ephesus? No one can be sure of what will happen at sea, and no trust can be placed in the changeful winds. Believe me, Clitophon, I am all afire — would that I could shew it to you — would that the fire of love had a like nature with that of the common element, in order that I might set you aflame by my embrace; but, as it is, this fire of mine, unlike other kinds, has its fuel in itself, and in lovers’ embraces it seems to burn up furiously but to spare the object of those embraces. O strange and mystic fire, fire that glows in secret and will not transgress the limits of the victim on whom it preys! Let us then, my dearest, become initiates in the sacred rites of Aphrodite.”
16. “No,” said I, “force me not to do violence to the duty owed to the dead; we have not traversed the limits consecrated to that poor girl until we land in another country. Did you not hear that she perished at sea? I am now sailing over Leucippe’s grave, and perhaps her shade is even now hovering round the ship. They say that the souls of those who have met their end in the deep never go down to Hades, but wander in the same spot about the f
ace of the waters; she may perhaps be present at our embraces. Then does this seem to you a spot suitable for the completion of our marriage? A marriage on the ocean wave, a marriage tossed by the deep? Could you bear that ours should be an unstable and rocking marriage-bed?”— “You quibble, my dearest,” she cried; “lovers find every spot a possible marriage-bed, and Love is a god who finds nowhere inaccessible to him. Indeed where could a place be found more appropriate than on the sea for love and the mysteries of Aphrodite? Aphrodite is the sea’s daughter. Let us propitiate that goddess who presides over marriages and honour her mother by this marriage of ours. Yes, all that I see about seems to me to be emblematic of marriage: here is the yoke of marriage that hangs above our heads, there are the ties of marriage which depend from the yard — fine omens, my lord and master — our couch is beneath the yoke, and the ties are securely fastened. Here too is the rudder close to our couch, and Fortune is the helmsman that directs our espousals; our groomsman and bridesmaids are Poseidon and his train of Nereids; for it was here that he wedded Amphitrite. The wind too whistles tunefully in the rigging: I think that the breath of the gale is singing our bridal song. Then you also see the sail bellying out, like a woman’s fertile womb: this seems to me the most propitious of omens; I shall soon see you a father.” Seeing that she was in a coming-on humour, “Let us continue,” I said, “these arguments, dear lady, until we touch land. I swear to you by this very sea and by the good luck of our voyage, that I too am as anxious as you for fruition; but the sea too has its statutes, and I have often heard from seafaring men that ships should always be pure from the rites of love, perhaps because they themselves are sacred, (I do not know why ships are sacred per se, unless it he for the tutela navis — the figure-head gods.) or perhaps that there should be no dalliance in the dangerous state in which ship-board always is. Therefore, my dearest, do not let us inflict this insult on the sea — we do not want our marriage to have in it a large admixture of fear — let us keep our pleasure pure and undefiled.” Using these words I did my best to appease her with my kisses, and finally succeeded; we then went to sleep in the cabin, just as we were, for the rest of the time on board.
Complete Works of Achilles Tatius Page 11