Philothea by Lydia Maria Child

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Eudora then told all the particulars of her attachment to Philaemon, and
her brief infatuation with regard to Alcibiades. Artaphernes evinced no
displeasure at the disclosure; but spoke of Philaemon with great respect
and affection. He dwelt earnestly upon the mischievous effects of such
free customs as Aspasia sought to introduce, and warmly eulogized the
strictness and complete seclusion of Persian education. When Eudora
expressed fears that she might never be able to regain Philaemon's love,
he gazed on her beautiful countenance with fond admiration, and smiled
incredulously as he turned away.

The proposal of Alcibiades was civilly declined; the promised sum paid
to his faithless steward, and the necklace, given by Phidias, redeemed.

Hylax had been forcibly carried to Salamis with his young mistress, lest
his sagacity should lead to a discovery of her prison. When Eudora
escaped from the island, she had reluctantly left him in her apartment,
in order to avoid the danger that might arise from any untimely noise;
but as soon as her own safety was secured, her first thoughts were for
the recovery of this favourite animal, the early gift of Philaemon. The
little captive had pined and moaned continually, during their brief
separation; and when he returned, it seemed as if his boisterous joy
could not sufficiently manifest itself in gambols and caresses.

When Artaphernes was convinced that he had really found his long-lost
child, the impulse of gratitude led to very early inquiries for
Pandaenus. The artist had not yet re-appeared; and all Athens was filled
with conjectures concerning his fate. Eudora still suspected that
Alcibiades had secreted him, for the same reason that he had claimed
Geta as a slave; for it was sufficiently obvious that he had desired, as
far as possible, to deprive her of all assistance and protection.

The event proved her suspicions well founded. On the fourth day after
her escape from Salamis, Pandaenus came to congratulate Artaphernes, and
half in anger, half in laughter, told the particulars of his story. He
had been seized as he returned home at night, and had been forcibly
conveyed to the mansion of Eurysaces, where he was kept a close
prisoner, with the promise of being released whenever he finished a
picture, which Alcibiades had long desired to obtain. This was a
representation of Europa, just entering the ocean on the back of the
beautiful bull, which she and her unsuspecting companions had crowned
with garlands.

At first, the artist resisted, and swore by Phoebus Apollo that he would
not be thus forced into the service of any man; but an unexpected
circumstance changed his resolution.

There was a long, airy gallery, in which he was allowed to take exercise
any hour of the day. In some places, an open-work partition, richly and
curiously wrought by the skilful hand of Callicrates, separated this
gallery from the outer balustrade of the building. During his walks,
Pandaenus often heard sounds of violent grief from the other side of the
screen. Curiosity induced him to listen, and inquire the cause. A sad,
sweet voice answered, "I am Cleonica, daughter of a noble Spartan. Taken
captive in war, and sold to Alcibiades, I weep for my dishonoured lot;
for much I fear it will bring the gray hairs of my mother to an untimely
grave."

This interview led to another, and another; and though the mode of
communication was imperfect, the artist was enabled to perceive that the
captive maiden was a tall, queenly figure, with a rich profusion of
sunny hair, indicating a fair and fresh complexion. The result was a
promise to paint the desired picture, provided he might have the Spartan
slave as a recompense.

Alcibiades, equally solicitous to obtain the painting, and to prolong
the seclusion of Pandaenus, and being then eager in another pursuit,
readily consented to the terms proposed. After Eudora's sudden change
of fortune, being somewhat ashamed of the publicity of his conduct, and
desirous not to lose entirely the good opinion of Artaphernes, he gave
the artist his liberty, simply requiring the fulfilment of his promise.

"And what are your intentions with regard to this fair captive?"
inquired the Persian, with a significant smile.

With some degree of embarrassment, Pandaenus answered, "I came to ask
your protection; and that Eudora might for the present consider her as a
sister, until I can restore her to her family."

"It shall be so," replied Artaphernes; "but this is a very small part of
the debt I owe the nephew of Phidias. Should you hereafter have a favour
to ask of Cleonica's noble family, poverty shall be no obstruction to
your wishes. I have already taken measures to purchase for you a large
estate in Elis, and to remit yearly revenues, which will I trust be
equal to your wishes. I have another favour to ask, in addition to the
many claims you already have upon me. Among the magnificent pictures
that adorn the Poecile, I have not observed the sculptor of your gods. I
pray you exert your utmost skill in a painting of Phidias crowned by the
Muses; that I may place it on those walls, a public monument of my
gratitude to that illustrious man."

"Of his statues and drawings I have purchased all that can be bought in
Athens. The weeping Panthea, covering the body of Abradates with her
mantle, is destined for my royal and munificent master. By the kindness
of Pericles, I have obtained for myself the beautiful group,
representing my precious little Artaminta caressing the kid, in that
graceful attitude which first attracted the attention of her benefactor.
For the munificent Eleans, I have reserved the Graceful Three, which
your countrymen have named the presiding deities over benevolent
actions. All the other statues and drawings of your illustrious kinsman
are at your disposal. Nay, do not thank me, young man. Mine is still the
debt, and my heart will be ever grateful."

The exertions of Clinias, although they proved unavailing, were
gratefully acknowledged by the present of a large silver bowl, on which
the skilful artificer, Mys, had represented, with exquisite delicacy,
the infant Dionysus watched by the nymphs of Naxos.

In the midst of this generosity, the services of Geta and Milza were not
forgotten. The bribe given to the steward was doubled in the payment,
and an offer made to establish them in any part of Greece or Persia,
where they wished to reside.

A decided preference was given to Elis, as the only place where they
could be secure from the ravages of war. A noble farm, in the
neighbourhood of Proclus, was accordingly purchased for them, well
stocked with herds and furnished with all agricultural and household
conveniences. Geta, having thus become an owner of the soil, dropped the
brief name by which he had been known in slavery, and assumed the more
sonorous appellation of Philophidias.

Dione, old as she was, overcame her fear of perils by land and sea, and
resolved to follow her young mistress into Persia.

Before a new moon had begun its course, Pandaenus fulfilled his
intention of returning to Olympia, in company with the Lacedaemonian
ambassador and his train. Cleonica, attended by Geta and Milza,
travelled under the same protection. Artaphernes sent to Proclus four
noble horses and a Bactrian camel, together with seven minae as a
portion for Zoila. For Pterilaues, likewise, was a sum of money
sufficient to maintain him ten years in Athens, that he might gratify
his ardent desire to become the disciple of Plato. Eudora sent her
little playmate a living peacock, which proved even more acceptable than
her flock of marble sheep with their painted shepherd. To Melissa was
sent a long affectionate epistle, with the dying bequest of Philothea,
and many a valuable token of Eudora's gratitude.

Although a brilliant future was opening before her, the maiden's heart
was very sad, when she bade a last farewell to the honest and faithful
attendants, who had been with her through so many changing scenes, and
aided her in the hour of her utmost need. The next day after their
departure was spent by the Persian in the worship of Mithras, and
prayers to Oromasdes. Eudora, in remembrance of her vision, offered
thanksgiving and sacrifice to Phoebus and Pan; and implored the deities
of ocean to protect the Phoenician galley, in which they were about to
depart from Athens.

These ceremonies being performed, Artaphernes and his weeping daughter
visited the studio of Myron, who, in compliance with their orders, had
just finished the design of a beautiful monument to Paralus and
Philothea, on which were represented two doves sleeping upon garlands.

For the last time, Eudora poured oblations of milk and honey, and placed
fragrant flowers, with ringlets of her hair, upon the sepulchre of her
gentle friend; then, with many tears, she bade a long farewell to scenes
rendered sacred by the remembrance of their mutual love.

CHAPTER XX.

Next arose
A well-towered city, by seven golden gates
Inclosed, that fitted to their lintels hung.
Then burst forth
Aloud the marriage song; and far and wide
Long splendors flashed from many a quivering torch.
HESIOD

When the galley arrived at the opulent city of Tyre, the noble Persian
and his retinue joined a caravan of Phoenician merchants bound to
Ecbatana, honoured at that season of the year with the residence of the
royal family. Eudora travelled in a cedar carriage drawn by camels. The
latticed windows were richly gilded, and hung with crimson curtains,
which her father ordered to be closed at the slightest indication of
approaching travellers. Dione, with six more youthful attendants,
accompanied her, and exerted all their powers to make the time pass
pleasantly; but all their stories of romantic love, of heroes mortal and
immortal, combined with the charms of music, could not prevent her from
feeling that the journey was exceedingly long and wearisome.

She recollected how her lively spirit had sometimes rebelled against the
restraints imposed on Grecian women, and sighed to think of all she had
heard concerning the far more rigid customs of Persia. Expressions of
fatigue sometimes escaped her; and her indulgent parent consented that
she should ride in the chariot with him, enveloped in a long, thick
veil, that descended to her feet, with two small openings of net-work
for the eyes.

As they passed through Persia, he pointed out to her the sacred groves,
inhabited by the Magii: the entrance of the cave where Zoroaster penned
his divine precepts; and the mountain on whose summit he was wont to
hold midnight communication with the heavenly bodies.

Eudora remarked that she nowhere observed temples or altars; objects to
which her eye had always been accustomed, and which imparted such a
sacred and peculiar beauty to Grecian scenery.

Artaphernes replied, "It is because these things are contrary to the
spirit of Persian theology. Zoroaster taught us that the temple of
Oromasdes was infinite space--his altar, the air, the earth, and the
heavens."

When the travellers arrived within sight of Ecbatana, the setting sun
poured upon the noble city a flood of dazzling light. It was girdled by
seven walls of seven different colours; one rising above the other, in
all the hues of the rainbow. From the centre of the innermost, arose the
light, graceful towers of the royal palace, glittering with gold. The
city was surrounded by fertile, spacious plains, bounded on one side by
Mount Orontes, and on the other by a stately forest, amid whose lofty
trees might here and there be seen the magnificent villas of Persian
nobles.

Eudora's heart beat violently, when her father pointed to the residence
of Megabyzus, and told her that the gilded balls on its pinnacles could
be discovered from their own dwelling; but maiden shame prevented her
from inquiring whether Philaemon was still the instructor of his sons.

The morning after his arrival, Artaphernes had a private audience with
his royal master. This conference lasted so long, that many of the
courtiers supposed his mission in Greece related to matters of more
political importance than the purchase of pictures and statues; and this
conjecture was afterward confirmed by the favours lavished upon him.

It was soon known throughout the precincts of the court that the
favourite noble had returned from Athens, bringing with him his
long-lost daughter. The very next day, as Eudora walked round the
terraces of her father's princely mansion, she saw the royal carriages
approach, followed by a long train of attendants, remarkable for age and
ugliness, and preceded by an armed guard, calling aloud to all men to
retire before their presence, on pain of death. In obedience to these
commands, Artaphernes immediately withdrew to his own apartment, closed
the shutters, and there remained till the royal retinue departed.

The visiters consisted of Amestris, the mother of Artaxerxes; Arsinoee of
Damascus, his favourite mistress; and Parysatis, his daughter; with
their innumerable slaves. They examined Eudora with more than childish
curiosity; pulled every article of her dress, to ascertain its colour
and its texture; teased to see all her jewels; wanted to know the name
of everything in Greek; requested her to sing Greek songs; were
impatient to learn Ionian dances; conjured her to paint a black streak
from the eyes to the ears; and were particularly anxious to ascertain
what cosmetic the Grecian ladies used to stain the tips of their
fingers.

When all these important matters were settled, by means of an
interpreter, they began to discuss the merits of Grecian ladies; and
loudly expressed their horror at the idea of appearing before brothers
unveiled, and at the still grosser indelicacy of sometimes allowing the
face to be seen by a betrothed lover. Then followed a repetition of all
the gossip of the harem; particularly, a fresh piece of scandal
concerning Apollonides of Cos, and their royal kinswoman, Amytis, the
wife of Megabyzus. Eudora turned away to conceal her blushes; for the
indelicacy of their language was such as seldom met the ear of a Grecian
maiden.

The Queen mother was eloquent in praise of a young Lesbian girl, whom
Artaphernes had bought to attend upon his daughter. This was equivalent
to asking for the slave; and the captive herself evinced no
unwillingness to join the royal household; it having been foretold by an
oracle that she would one day be the mother of kings. Amestris accepted
the beautiful Greek, with many thanks, casting a triumphant glance at
Arsinoee and Parysatis, who lowered their brows, as if each had reasons
of her own for being displeased with the arrangement.

The royal guests gave and received a variety of gifts; consisting
principally of jewels, embroidered mantles, veils, tufts of peacock
feathers with ivory handles, parrots, and golden boxes filled with
roseate powder for the fingers, and black paint for the eyebrows. At
length they departed, and Eudora's attendants showered perfumes on them
as they went.

Eudora recalled to mind the pure and sublime discourse she had so often
enjoyed with Philothea, and sighed as she compared it with this
specimen of intercourse with high-born Persian ladies.

When the sun was setting, she again walked upon the terrace; and,
forgetful of the customs of the country, threw back her veil, that she
might enjoy more perfectly the beauty of the landscape. She stood
thoughtfully gazing at the distant pinnacles, which marked the residence
of Megabyzus, when the barking of Hylax attracted her attention, and
looking into the garden, she perceived a richly dressed young man, with
his eyes fixed earnestly upon her. She drew her veil hastily, and
retired within the dwelling, indulging the secret hope that none of her
attendants had witnessed an action, which Artaphernes would deem so
imprudent.

On the following morning commenced the celebrated festival called, 'The
Salutation of Mithras;' during which, forty days were set apart for
thanksgiving and sacrifice. The procession formed long before the rising
of the sun. First appeared a long train of the most distinguished Magii
from all parts of the empire, led by their chief in scarlet robes,
carrying the sacred fire upon a silver furnace. Next appeared an empty
chariot consecrated to Oromasdes, decorated with garlands, and drawn by
white steeds harnessed with gold. This was followed by a magnificent
large horse, his forehead flaming with gems, in honour of Mithras. Then
came the Band of Immortals, and the royal kindred, their Median vests
blazing with embroidery and gold. Artaxerxes rode in an ivory chariot,
richly inlaid with precious stones. He was followed by a long line of
nobles, riding on camels splendidly caparisoned; and their countless
attendants closed the train. This gorgeous retinue slowly ascended
Mount Orontes. When they arrived upon its summit, the chief of the Magii
assumed his tiara interwoven with myrtle, and hailed the first beams of
the rising sun with sacrifice. Then each of the Magii in turns sung
orisons to Oromasdes, by whose eternal power the radiant Mithras had
been sent to gladden the earth, and preserve the principle of life.
Finally, they all joined in one universal chorus, while king, princes,
and nobles, prostrated themselves, and adored the Fountain of Light.

At that solemn moment, a tiger leaped from an adjoining thicket, and
sprung toward the king. But ere the astonished courtiers had time to
breathe, a javelin from some unknown hand passed through the ferocious
animal, and laid him lifeless in the dust.

Eudora had watched the procession from the house-top; and at this moment
she thought she perceived hurried and confused movements, of which her
attendants could give no explanation.

The splendid concourse returned toward the palace in the same order that
it had ascended the mountain. But next to the royal chariot there now
appeared a young man on a noble steed, with a golden chain about his
neck, and two heralds by his side, who ever and anon blew their
trumpets, and proclaimed, "This is Philaemon of Athens, whom the king
delighteth to honour?"

Eudora understood the proclamation imperfectly; but afar off, she
recognized the person of her lover. As they passed the house, she saw
Hylax running to and fro on the top of the wall, barking, and jumping,
and wagging his tail, as if he too were conscious of the vicinity of
some familiar friend. The dog evidently arrested Philaemon's attention;
for he observed him closely, and long continued to look back and watch
his movements.

A tide of sweet and bitter recollections oppressed the maiden's heart; a
deadly paleness overspread her cheeks; a suffocating feeling choked her
voice; and had it not been for a sudden gush of tears, she would have
fallen.

When her father returned, he informed her that the life of Artaxerxes
had been saved by the promptitude and boldness of Philaemon, who
happened to perceive the tiger sooner than any other person at the
festival. He added, "I saw Philaemon after the rescue, but we had brief
opportunity to discourse together. I think his secluded habits have
prevented him from hearing that I found a daughter in Athens. He told me
he intended soon to return to his native country, and promised to be my
guest for a few days before he departed. Furthermore, my child, the
Great King, in the fulness of his regal bounty, last night sent a
messenger to demand you in marriage for his son Xerxes."

He watched her countenance, as he spoke; but seemed doubtful how to
understand the fluctuating colour. Still keeping his scrutinizing gaze
fixed upon her, he continued, "Artaminta, this is an honour not to be
lightly rejected; to be princess of Persia now, and hereafter perhaps
its queen."

In some confusion, the maiden answered, "Perhaps the prince may not
approve his father's choice."

"No, Artaminta; the prince has chosen for himself. He sent his sister to
obtain a view of my newly discovered daughter; and he himself saw you,
as you stood on the terrace unveiled."

In an agitated voice, Eudora asked, "And must I be compelled to obey the
commands of the king?"

"Unless it should be his gracious pleasure to dispense with obedience,"
replied Artaphernes. "I and all my household are his servants. I pray
Oromasdes that you may never have greater troubles than the fear of
becoming a princess."

"But you forget, my dear father, that Parysatis told me her brother
Xerxes was effeminate and capricious, and had a new idol with every
change of the moon. Some fairer face would soon find favour in his
sight; and I should perhaps be shut up with hundreds of forgotten
favourites, in the old harem, among silly women and ugly slaves."

Her father answered, in an excited tone, "Artaminta, if you had been
brought up with more becoming seclusion, like those silly Persian women,
you would perhaps have known, better than you now seem to do, that a
woman's whole duty is submission."

Eudora had never heard him speak so harshly. She perceived that his
parental ambition was roused, and that her indifference to the royal
proposal displeased him. The tears fell fast, as she replied, "Dear
father, I will obey you, even if you ask me to sacrifice my life, at the
command of the king."

Her tears touched the feelings of the kind old man. He embraced her
affectionately, saying, "Do not weep, daughter of my beloved Antiope. It
would indeed gratify my heart to see you Queen of Persia; but you shall
not be made wretched, if my interest with the Great King can prevent
it. All men praise his justice and moderation; and he has pledged his
royal word to grant anything I ask, in recompense for services rendered
in Greece. The man who has just saved his life can no doubt obtain any
favour. But reflect upon it well, my daughter. Xerxes has no son; and
should you give birth to a boy, no new favourite could exclude you from
the throne. Perhaps Philaemon was silent from other causes than ignorance
of your arrival in Persia; and if this be the case, you may repent a too
hasty rejection of princely love."

Eudora blushed like crimson, and appeared deeply pained by this
suggestion; but she made no answer. Artaphernes departed, promising to
seek a private audience with the king; and she saw him no more that
night. When she laid her head upon the pillow, a mind troubled with many
anxious thoughts for a long time prevented repose; and when she did sink
to sleep, it was with a confused medley of ideas, in which the
remembrance of Philaemon's love was mixed up with floating visions of
regal grandeur, and proud thoughts of a triumphant marriage, now placed
within her power, should he indeed prove as unforgiving and indifferent,
as her father had suggested.

In her sleep, she saw Philothea; but a swift and turbid stream appeared
to roll between them; and her friend said, in melancholy tones, "You
have left me, Eudora; and I cannot come to you, now. Whence are these
dark and restless waters, which separate our souls?"

Then a variety of strange scenes rapidly succeeded each other--all
cheerless, perturbed, and chaotic. At last, she seemed to be standing
under the old grape-vine, that shaded the dwelling of Anaxagoras, and
Philaemon crowned her with a wreath of myrtle. In the morning, soon after
she had risen from her couch, Artaphernes came to her apartment, and
mildly asked if she still wished to decline the royal alliance. He
evinced no displeasure when she answered in the affirmative; but quietly
replied, "It may be that you have chosen a wise part, my child; for true
it is, that safety and contentment rarely take up their abode with
princes. But now go and adorn yourself with your richest apparel; for
the Great King requires me to present you at the palace, before the hour
of noon. Let your Greek costume be laid aside; for I would not have my
daughter appear like a foreigner, in the presence of her king."

With a palpitating heart, Eudora resigned herself into the hands of her
Persian tire-women, who so loaded her with embroidery and gems, that she
could scarcely support their weight.

She was conveyed to the palace in a cedar carriage, carefully screened
from observation. Her father rode by her side, and a numerous train of
attendants followed. Through gates of burnished brass, they entered a
small court with a tesselated pavement of black and white marble. Thence
they passed into a long apartment, with walls of black marble, and
cornices heavily gilded. The marble was so highly polished, that Eudora
saw the light of her jewels everywhere reflected like sunbeams.
Surprised by the multiplied images of herself and attendants, she did
not at first perceive, through the net-work of her veil, that a young
man stood leaning against the wall, with his arms folded. This
well-remembered attitude attracted her attention, and she scarcely
needed a glance to assure her it was Philaemon.

It being contrary to Persian etiquette to speak without license within
hearing of the royal apartments, the Athenian merely smiled, and bowed
gracefully to Artaphernes; but an audible sigh escaped him, as he
glanced at the Greek attendants. Eudora hastily turned away her head,
when he looked toward her; but her heart throbbed so violently that
every fold of her veil trembled. They continued thus in each other's
presence many minutes; one in a state of perfect unconsciousness, the
other suffering an intensity of feeling, that seemed like the condensed
excitement of years. At last a herald came to say it was now the
pleasure of the Great King to receive them in the private court, opening
into the royal gardens.

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