2. “Now whither are we to flee from violence? What is to be our refuge? To which of the gods are we to have recourse, if Artemis cannot protect us? We are assaulted in her very temple; we are beaten before the very sanctuary-veil. Such things as this happen only in deserted places where there are no witnesses at hand or even none of the human race; you shew your brutal violence in the sight of the gods themselves. Even evil-doers have a refuge in the safety of the sanctuary; but I, who have offended against no man, and had taken up the position of Artemis’ suppliant, am struck before her very altar, with the goddess, oh shame, looking on. These blows are aimed at Artemis herself: and the mad folly of her desecrator did not stop at mere blows; people are wounded, yes, wounded on the face, wounds such as one receives in wars and battles, and the holy pavement has been defiled with human blood. Is this a libation fit for the goddess? Are not these the offerings poured by barbarians and the natives of Tauri, and is not this rather the Artemis worshipped by the Scythians? Only among them is the shrine drenched with blood after this fashion. You have converted Ionia into Scythia, Thersander, and here in Ephesus flows blood that should only flow at Tauri. Come, use your sword against me! But what need is there of the steel? Your hand has done the work of the sword. Yes, that murderous and bloody hand of yours has performed the work that is done at a human sacrifice.”
3. As I shouted out these complaints, a great crowd came together of all those who were in the temple: and they began to abuse Thersander, as did the bishop himself, who said: “Are you not ashamed of acting thus, openly and in the temple?” At this, I took courage and added: “This is what I have suffered, Sirs, though I am a free man and a citizen of no mean city; this rascal conspired against my life, but Artemis saved me and proved him a trumper-up of false charges. Now I must go and wash my face outside; God forbid that the holy water (Not in stoups, as in modern churches, but a fountain for purposes of ablution.) of the temple should be polluted by the blood of violence.” At this, they dragged him away with some difficulty and induced him to leave the temple, but thus much he was able to say as he went; “Your case is already judged and finished, and it will not be long before you pay the penalty that is due; as for this prostitute, this sham virgin, she shall be tested by the ordeal of the pan-pipes. (This will be explained in chapter vi.)”
4. At last he went, and I too went out and washed my face. It was then time for dinner, and the bishop most hospitably invited us to dine with him. I was unable to look Sostratus in the face, conscious of the way I had treated him: while he, observing the scratches round my eyes of which he had been the inflicter, was in return ashamed to face me; and Leucippe for the most part kept her eyes fixed on the ground; so that the whole dinner was one long shamefastness. However, as we began to drink more deep and Dionysus little by little dissolved our shyness (rightly is he called the father of freedom ), the bishop was the first to speak, addressing himself to Sostratus. “Will you not tell us, stranger,” said he, “the story in which you are all involved? Some of its ins and outs are likely to be not without interest, and tales of this sort are most suitable for the time when the wine is going round.” Sostratus was very glad to get hold of an excuse for breaking the ice. “My part of the story,” he said, “is very simple. Sostratus is my name, and I am a Byzantine by birth; the uncle of one of your guests, and the father of the other. As for all the rest, do you, my boy Clitophon, relate whatever the story is, and do not be shy about it. Even if I have gone through a great deal of trouble, the greater part of it is not your fault, but that of Fortune; and besides, the recital of trials past is more likely to raise the spirits (Not quite a literal translation: ΥΧΑΓΩΓΈΩ means “to allure,” and so “to delight.”) of a man who is no longer suffering under them than to depress him.”
5. At this I related the whole story which developed from our flight from Tyre — our voyage, the shipwreck, our adventures in Egypt, the buccaneers, the carrying away of Leucippe, the mock stomach used at the altar (Menelaus’ artful device), the general’s love and the remedy administered by Chaereas, how Leucippe was carried off by the pirates and the wound I received in the thigh during the fight with them, of which I showed them the scar. When I came to the part of the story in which Melitte was concerned, I gave such a turn to the sequence of events that I made them appear greatly to the advantage of my continence, yet without any departure from the truth; I related the story of Melitte’s love for me, my own chastity with regard to her — the long time during which she besought me to take pity on her, her ill-success in her prayers, her promises, her laments; I told all about the ship, our voyage to Ephesus, how we shared the same couch, and how (I swore by Artemis present before us) she rose from it as one woman would rise from another’s bed. Only one thing I omitted in all my adventures, and that was the somewhat delicate matter of my connexion with Melitte after the events just mentioned; but I recounted my dinner with her, and how, later, I made the false accusation against myself, and I completed the story as far as the arrival of the sacred embassy. “These are my adventures,” said I, “but those of Leucippe have been more thrilling than mine. She has been bought and sold, she has been a slave, she has dug the ground, she has been robbed of the crowning glory of her hair; you can still see where her head was shaved”: and I then related all that had happened to her in its due order. When I came to to the part where she fell in with Sosthenes and Thersander, I made much more of her adventures than I had of my own, wishing, as a lover should, to give her the greatest possible credit while her father was listening; how she suffered bodily all manner of insult and violence, save one, and because of this one alone withstood all the others: “And in that respect, father,” I added, she is still the same, up to the present day, as when you sent her away from Byzantium. Nor is it to be put down at all to my credit that after accomplishing this flight I abstained from the very object for which we had fled: but to hers, that she remained a virgin when surrounded by a gang of pirates, and overcame that greatest pirate of all; I mean Thersander, the shameless, brutal wretch. Our departure from Tyre was a calculated one, my father; it was love that drove us from our native land, and the flight was that of a lover and his mistress; but when we had once started we became no more than a brother and sister to each other. If there be any such thing as virginity among us men, then that I have preserved with respect to Leucippe up to the present moment, while, as for her, she has long been anxiously hoping for this temple of Artemis. Lady Aphrodite, be not wroth with us as though we had slighted thee; we would not that our marriage should take place without her father being present; now he is here, come thou also, and look kindly upon us.” As they heard this tale, the bishop listened agape with astonishment, full of surprise at all the details of the story; while Sostratus was shedding tears every time the relation dealt with the adventures of Leucippe. When I had at last made an end: “You have now both of you heard all that happened to us,” I added, “but there is one thing about which I in my turn should like to question you, good bishop. What is it that Thersander meant in his last threats against Leucippe, just as he was going away, when he mentioned the pan-pipes?”— “That is a fair question,” he replied, “and as I know all about the pan-pipes, it is only right that I should add the explanation of them to the tale of which you have now put us in possession. I will make it clear to you as a return for the story you have just told.
6. “You see this grove here behind the shrine. Within it is a grotto that may not be entered by any women except clean maids, and a little within its walls there hangs up a pan-pipes. If this instrument is found as a native institution among you of Byzantium, you will be well acquainted with that of which I speak, but if any of you are less familiar with music of this description, allow me to explain it to you and to tell you the whole story of Pan. The panpipes is in reality a set of flutes, and while each reed is a flute, the whole group of reeds is equal to one flute (Because the one flute can make all the notes of the group of single reeds.); they are fastened togeth
er in a row, one after the other, to form a single whole, and the instrument appears the same whether regarded from the back or the front. The reeds differ slightly from one another in length; the shortest is fixed at one end of the row, then comes that which is next above it in size, then, third, the one which is as much longer than the second as the second is longer than the first, and so the whole of them in due order, going up in equal gradations from the first, and the middle one is half-way in size between the first and the last. (The whole of this passage is difficult to translate; the description of the instrument is clumsy and involved, and the text is far from secure. I do not flatter myself that I have done more than represent as closely as possible the general sense of the Greek.) The reason for this arrangement is to be found in the intervals of the scale: that which gives the highest note is at the top, and the note descends with the length of the reed, so that the two extremities are occupied by the pipes which are musically furthest apart; while, as for the intervals between these extremities, each reed is a note below its neighbour until it comes to the deepest of all at the far end. The sounds which Athene’s flute makes within, the pan-pipes makes at the ends of the reeds, but whereas in the former the note is governed by the movement of the fingers over the holes, in the latter case the performer’s lips replace the office of the fingers. With the flute, the performer stops all the holes but one, through which the breath escapes; but with the pan-pipes all the rest of the reeds are left untouched, and the lips are applied to one alone, the one which is to speak, and thence moves from one reed to another as the necessities of the tune indicate, so that the mouth may be said to dance along the pipes. Now originally the pan-pipes was neither pipe nor reed, but a maiden so fair that one would judge her worthy of a place among the gods. (The story is given in full by Ovid, Metamorphoses i. 691, though the passage is unfortunately too long to quote here.) Pan was chasing her, a chase inspired by love, and in her flight she entered a thick wood; he, close on her heels, was just stretching out his hand to catch her. He thought that his chase had been successful, and that he was grasping her hair: but his hand only clutched a bunch of reeds; she, it is said, had sunk into the ground, which bore a clump of reeds in her place. Pan, in a passion, cut away the reeds, thinking that they were hiding his beloved from him: but when, after a search lasting some time, he was unable to find her, he realised that she had been transformed into the reeds and regretted his action, thinking that he had actually cut down the object of his love. So he collected the fragments of reed as though they had been the maiden’s limbs and put them together as though to form a single body: and then, holding the pieces in his hands, kissed them, as though they had been her wounds. As he put his lips to them he groaned from love, and breathed down upon the reeds while he kissed them; and his breath, pouring down through the holes in them, gave musical notes, and the pan-pipes found its voice. So it is said that Pan there hung up the instrument, shutting it up in a cave, and that it was his custom to resort there often and play on the pipes. Some time after he made a gift of the whole spot to Artemis, making a compact with her that it should be entered by no woman no longer a maid. If therefore any girl is accused of being of doubtful virginity, she is sent by public decree to the door of the grotto, and the panpipes decides the ordeal for her; she goes in, clad in the proper dress, and the doors are closed behind her. If she is in reality a virgin, a clear and divine note is heard, either because there is some breeze in the place which enters the pipes and makes a musical sound, or possibly because it is Pan himself that is piping: and after a short time the doors of the grotto open of their own accord, and out comes the virgin with a wreath of the foliage of the pine upon her head. But if she has lied about her virginity, the pan-pipes is silent, and a groan comes forth from the cave instead of a musical sound; the people go away and leave the woman inside. On the third day after, the virgin priestess of the spot comes and finds the pan-pipes lying on the ground, but there is no trace of the woman. It is advisable therefore that you should take most careful thought as to the position that you are in, and be prudent. If she is a virgin, as I hope and think, go on light-heartedly and find the pan-pipes in your favour, for there is no instance of their giving a false decision; but if not, for you know that in the various trials to which she has been subject, it is possible that she, all against her will—”
7. But Leucippe would not let the bishop finish his sentence. I am quite determined,” she broke in; “say nothing more. I am ready to go into the grotto of the pan-pipes and to be shut up there even without any legal challenge.”
“Good news,” said the bishop, “and I congratulate you on your discretion (σωφροσύνη is exactly equivalent to the French sagesse in this rather technical shade of meaning. We are unable to represent it with precision in English. I fear that the bishop’s next words sound a little cynical; we know that he was well up in Aristophanes, but I am not sure whether our author intends him to be speaking here with a smile.) and your good fortune.” It was by this time the evening, and we each of us retired to bed according as the bishop had made disposition for us: Clinias had not dined with us, as we did not wish to seem to impose on the hospitality of our good host, but had stayed in the same lodging where he had been the day before. I should say that I had noticed that Sostratus shewed some slight signs of uneasiness during the story about the pan-pipes; he was evidently afraid that we had somewhat exaggerated Leucippe’s virginity out of respect to his presence; I therefore gave Leucippe an imperceptible sign that she should relieve her father’s anxiety, as she would obviously know best how to convince him; from the readiness with which she understood my hint, I rather think that she must have had the same suspicion about him, so that she quickly understood me and even before my sign she had been thinking of the most seemly way to make his assurance doubly sure. When therefore she was on the point of retiring to bed, she kissed her father good-night, and said to him in a low voice: “Courage, father, as far as I am concerned; and believe our story. I swear to you by Artemis that neither of us concealed the truth in any detail.”
On the following day Sostratus and the bishop went about the business of the sacred embassy, and the sacrifices were handsomely performed, the members of the council being present and assisting at the service. Many were the blessings and hymns with which the goddess was invoked, when Thersander, who had also put in an appearance, went up to the presiding officer, saying: “I request you to put down my case for to-morrow; some persons have taken it upon themselves to release the prisoner whom you condemned yesterday, and Sosthenes is nowhere to be found.” The case had therefore been put down for the following day, and we were making the most elaborate preparations for our part in it.
8. The appointed time having come, Thersander began, as follows. “I know not where to begin my argument, and with which to begin; against which to bring my accusation first, and which second. Crime has been piled on crime, by different parties, each as heinous as the rest, and these crimes are but loosely connected with one another; and there are some as well on which I shall hardly be able to touch during my indictment. Since the heart rules the head, (The Greek is very difficult. Perhaps “My feelings are too much for me, and so I am afraid...” It seems barely possible to get from the Greek the sense more obviously required, “I have them all fully set out in my head, but...” Dr. Rouse suggests that for τά re yap we should read are yap.) I am afraid my speech will be too incoherent to comprehend them all; before I finish one my tongue will go on to another; my anxiety to proceed to some point on which I have not yet dwelt will blunt the general effect of the whole sum of what I have previously said. When adulterers murder other peoples’ servants, when murderers commit adultery with other people’s wives, when whoremongers desecrate sacred embassies, when whores pollute our most sacred temples, when a person is found to fix the day of trials between slave-girls and their masters, is there any further excess of crime that can be committed beyond the welter of contempt for the law, adultery, impiety and
blood-guiltiness?
“You condemned a prisoner to death, on what charges it matters not now, and sent him in chains to prison to be kept there until his execution: and now here he stands before you; instead of his fetters he is wearing a white robe, and the prisoner is standing in the ranks of those who are free. He will have the impudence, perhaps, to lift up his voice and bring some cavilling, sophisticated accusation against me — rather will it be against you and the vote you gave. Read, usher, the decree pronounced by the presiding judges and their assessors. [The usher reads the sentence.] You hear how you decided, and the verdict brought at my suit against this fellow. The vote was that Clitophon was to die. Where then is the public executioner? Let him arrest the prisoner and lead him away to death. Quick, give him the hemlock. He is already dead in the eyes of the law; he is a condemned felon whose date of execution is overdue.
“And now, most reverend and worthy bishop, what have you to say? In what part of the divine law is it written that, when men are condemned by the government and its executive officers and given over for death or chains, you should rescue them from their sentence and have their chains struck off them, arrogating to yourself higher powers than those of presiding judges and courts of law? Come down from the bench, my Lord Chief, and leave your position and the court in his favour; you have no longer power over anybody; it is not within your province to pass sentence on rascals; all your decrees are reversed to-day. Nay, good bishop, why stand among us as though you were one of the common herd? Go up, and take your seat on his Lordship’s bench, and be our judge for the future — or rather, just express your sweet will and pleasure, like an autocrat; it is not worth while having any law or precedent of the court read to you. Better still, claim a position above mankind altogether; have worship paid to you along with Artemis, for it is her honour that you have usurped. She alone has had the power, until now, of affording an asylum to those who fly to her for help (and that only before the court has pronounced its verdict; the goddess has never loosed a criminal from his chains or rescued a condemned felon from his deserved fate; her altars are for the unfortunate, not for the guilty), but now you take it upon yourself to strike the shackles from the prisoner and acquit the condemned, thus setting yourself up above the goddess. Who has dared thus to turn the temple into a prison? Yes, there was a murderer and an adulterer in the church of that pure goddess; alack, alack, an adulterer in the virgin-shrine! And with him was a woman of the lightest character, a slave who had run away from her master: her too, as I myself saw, you took in; you allowed them to share your hearth and your table; and I should not be surprised to hear, my lord bishop, that you shared their bed as well when you turned the temple into a common lodging. Yes, the church of Artemis is become a bawdy-house — a whore’s bedchamber; they would have been ashamed of the goings-on there in the commonest brothel. My case against these two men therefore stands together; I ask that the one may be punished for his presumption, and that you will order the other to be handed over to suffer the punishment to which he has been condemned.
Complete Works of Achilles Tatius Page 17