Pericles went to seek his son, and found him reclining on the couch where he had left him. The invalid seemed to be in a state of deep abstraction, and offered no resistance as they led him to the chariot.

When they entered the house of Clinias, he looked around with a painful expression of weariness, until they tenderly placed him on a couch. He was evidently disturbed by the presence of those about him, but unmindful of any familiar faces, until Philothea suddenly knelt by his side, and throwing back her veil, said, "Paralus! dear Paralus! Do you not know me?" Then his whole face kindled with an expression of joy, so intense that Pericles for a moment thought the faculties of his soul were completely restored.

But the first words he uttered showed a total unconsciousness of past events. "Oh, Philothea!" he exclaimed, "I have not heard your voice since last night, when you came to me and sung that beautiful welcome to the swallows, which all the little children like so well."

On the preceding evening, Philothea, being urged by her maidens to sing, had actually warbled that little song; thinking all the while of the days of childhood, when she and Paralus used to sing it, to please their young companions. When she heard this mysterious allusion to the music, she looked at Plato with an expression of surprise; while Milza and the other attendants seemed afraid in the presence of one thus visited by the G.o.ds.

With looks full of beaming affection, the invalid continued: "And now, Philothea, we will again walk to that pleasant place, where we went when you finished the song."

In low and soothing tones, the maiden inquired, "Where did we go, Paralus?"

"Have you forgotten?" he replied. "We went hand in hand up a high mountain. A path wound round it in spiral flexures, ever ascending, and communicating with all above and all below. A stream of water, pure as crystal, flowed along the path, from the summit to the base. Where we stood to rest awhile, the skies were of transparent blue; but higher up, the light was purple and the trees full of doves. We saw little children leading lambs to drink at the stream, and they raised their voices in glad shouts, to see the bright waters go glancing and glittering down the sides of the mountain."

He remained silent and motionless for several minutes; and then continued: "But this path is dreary. I do not like this wide marsh, and these ruined temples. Who spoke then and told me it was Athens? But now I see the groves of Academus. There is a green meadow in the midst, on which rests a broad belt of sunshine. Above it, are floating little children with wings; and they throw down garlands to little children without wings, who are looking upward with joyful faces. Oh, how beautiful they are! Come, Philothea, let us join them."

The philosopher smiled, and inwardly hailed the words as an omen auspicious to his doctrines. All who listened were deeply impressed by language so mysterious.

The silence remained unbroken, until Paralus asked for music. A cithara being brought, Philothea played one of his favourite songs, accompanied by her voice. The well-remembered sounds seemed to fill him with joy beyond his power to express; and again his anxious parent cherished the hope that reason would be fully restored.

He put his hand affectionately on Philothea's head, as he said, "Your presence evidently has a blessed influence; but oh, my daughter, what a sacrifice you are making--young and beautiful as you are!"

"Nay, Pericles," she replied, "I deem it a privilege once more to hear the sound of his voice; though it speaks a strange, unearthly language."

When they attempted to lead the invalid from the apartment, and Philothea, with a tremulous voice, said, "Farewell, Paralus,"--an expression of intense gloom came over his countenance, suddenly as a sunny field is obscured by pa.s.sing clouds. "Not farewell to Eurydice!"

he said: "It is sad music--sad music."

The tender-hearted maiden was affected even to tears, and found it hard to submit to a temporary separation. But Pericles a.s.sured her that his son would probably soon fall asleep, and awake without any recollection of recent events. Before she retired to her couch, a messenger was sent to inform her that Paralus was in deep repose.

Clinias having removed from the unhealthy Piraeus, in search of purer atmosphere, Philothea found him in the house once occupied by Phidias; and the hope that scenes of past happiness might prove salutary to the mind of Paralus, induced Pericles to prepare the former dwelling of Anaxagoras for his bridal home. The friends and relations of the invalid were extremely desirous to have Philothea's soothing influence continually exerted upon him; and the disinterested maiden earnestly wished to devote every moment of her life to the restoration of his precious health. Under these circ.u.mstances, it was deemed best that the marriage should take place immediately.

The mother of Paralus had died; and Aspasia, with cautious delicacy, declined being present at the ceremony, under the pretext of ill health; but Phoenarete, the wife of Clinias, gladly consented to act as mother of the orphan bride.

Propitiatory sacrifices were duly offered to Artemis, Hera, Pallas, Aphrodite, the Fates, and the Graces. On the appointed day, Philothea appeared in bridal garments, prepared by Phoenarete. The robe of fine Milesian texture, was saffron-coloured, with a purple edge. Over this, was a short tunic of brilliant crimson, confined at the waist by an embroidered zone, fastened with a broad clasp of gold. Glossy braids of hair were intertwined with the folds of her rose-coloured veil; and both bride and bridegroom were crowned with garlands of roses and myrtle. The chariot, in which they were seated, was followed by musicians, and a long train of friends and relatives. Arrived at the temple of Hera, the priest presented a branch, which they held between them as a symbol of the ties about to unite them. Victims were sacrificed, and the omens declared not unpropitious. When the gall had been cast behind the altar, Clinias placed Philothea's hand within the hand of Paralus; the bride dedicated a ringlet of her hair to Hera; the customary vows were p.r.o.nounced by the priest; and the young couple were presented with golden cups of wine, from which they poured libations. The invalid was apparently happy; but so unconscious of the scene he was acting, that his father was obliged to raise his hand and pour forth the wine.

The ceremonies being finished, the priest reminded Philothea that when a good wife died, Persephone formed a procession of the best women to scatter flowers in her path, and lead her spirit to Elysium. As he spoke, two doves alighted on the altar; but one immediately rose, and floated above the other, with a tender cooing sound. Its mate looked upward for a moment; and then both of them rose high in the air, and disappeared. The spectators hailed this as an auspicious omen; but Philothea pondered it in her heart, and thought she perceived a deeper meaning than was visible to them.

As the company returned, with the joyful sound of music, many a friendly hand threw garlands from the housetops, and many voices p.r.o.nounced a blessing.

In consideration of the health of Paralus, the customary evening procession was dispensed with. An abundant feast was prepared at the house of Clinias. The gentle and serious bride joined with her female friends in the apartments of the women; but no bridegroom appeared at the banquet of the men.

As the guests seated themselves at table, a boy came in covered with thorn-boughs and acorns, bearing a golden basket filled with bread, and singing, "I have left the worse and found the better." As he pa.s.sed through the rooms, musicians began to play on various instruments, and troops of young dancers moved in airy circles to the sound.

At an early hour, Philothea went to the apartment prepared for her in the home of her childhood. Phoenarete preceded her with a lighted torch, and her female attendants followed, accompanied by young Pericles, bearing on his head a vase of water from the Fountain of Callirhoe, with which custom required that the bride's feet should be bathed. Music was heard until a late hour, and epithalamia were again resumed with the morning light.

The next day, a procession of women brought the bridal gifts of friends and relatives, preceded by a boy clothed in white, carrying a torch in one hand, and a basket of flowers in the other. Philothea, desirous to please the father of her husband, had particularly requested that this office might be performed by the youthful Pericles--a beautiful boy, the only son of Aspasia. The gifts were numerous; consisting of embroidered sandals, perfume boxes of ivory inlaid with gold, and various other articles, for use or ornament. Pericles sent a small ivory statue of Persephone gathering flowers in the vale of Enna; and Aspasia a clasp, representing the Naiades floating with the infant Eros, bound in garlands. The figures were intaglio, in a gem of transparent cerulean hue, and delicately painted. When viewed from the opposite side, the effect was extremely beautiful; for the graceful nymphs seemed actually moving in their native element Alcibiades presented a Sidonian veil, of roseate hue and glossy texture. Phoenarete bestowed a ring, on which was carved a dancing Oread; and Plato a cameo clasp, representing the infant Eros crowning a lamb with a garland of lilies.

On the third day, custom allowed every relative to see the bride with her face unveiled; and the fame of her surpa.s.sing beauty induced the remotest connections of the family to avail themselves of the privilege.

Philothea meekly complied with these troublesome requisitions; but her heart was weary for quiet hours, that she might hold free communion with Paralus, in that beautiful spirit-land, where his soul was wandering before its time.

Music, and the sound of Philothea's voice, seemed the only links that connected him with a world of shadows; but his visions were so blissful, and his repose so full of peace, that restless and ambitious men might well have envied a state thus singularly combining the innocence of childhood with the rich imagination of maturer years.

Many weeks pa.s.sed away in bright tranquillity; and the watchful wife thought she at times perceived faint indication of returning health.

Geta and Milza, in compliance with their own urgent entreaties, were her constant a.s.sistants in nursing the invalid; and more than once she imagined that he looked at them with an earnest expression, as if his soul were returning to the recollections of former years.

Spring ripened into summer. The olive-garlands twined with wool, suspended on the doors during the festival of Thargelia, had withered and fallen; and all men talked of the approaching commemoration of the Olympic games.

Hippocrates had been informed that t.i.thonus, the Ethiopian, possessed the singular power of leading the soul from the body, and again restoring it to its functions, by means of a soul-directing wand; and the idea arose in his mind, that this process might produce a salutary effect on Paralus.

The hopes of the anxious father were easily kindled; and he at once became desirous that his son should be conveyed to Olympia; for it was reported that t.i.thonus would be present at the games.

Philothea sighed deeply, as she listened to the proposition; for she had faith only in the healing power of perfect quiet, and the free communion of congenial souls. She yielded to the opinion of Pericles with characteristic humility; but the despondency of her tones did not pa.s.s un.o.bserved.

"It is partly for your sake that I wish it, my poor child," said he. "If it may be avoided, I will not see the whole of your youth consumed in anxious watchings."

The young wife looked up with a serene and bright expression, as she replied, "Nay, my father, you have never seen me anxious, or troubled. I have known most perfect contentment since my union with your son."

Pericles answered affectionately, "I believe it, my daughter; and I have marvelled at your cheerfulness. a.s.suredly, with more than Helen's beauty, you have inherited the magical Egyptian powder, whereby she drove away all care and melancholy."

CHAPTER XIV.

_Iphegenia_--Absent so long, with joy I look on thee.

_Agamemnon_--And I on thee; so this is mutual joy.

EURIPIDES.

In accordance with the advice of Hippocrates, the journey to Olympia was undertaken. Some time before the commencement of the games, a party, consisting of Pericles, Plato, Paralus, Philothea, and their attendants, made preparations for departure.

Having kissed the earth of Athens, and sacrificed to Hermes and Hecate, the protectors of travellers, they left the city at the Dipylon Gate, and entered the road leading to Eleusis. The country presented a cheerless aspect; for fields and vineyards once fruitful were desolated by ferocious war. But religious veneration had protected the altars, and their chaste simplicity breathed the spirit of peace; while the beautiful little rustic temples of Demeter, in commemoration of her wanderings in search of the lost Persephone, spoke an ideal language, soothing to the heart amid the visible traces of man's destructive pa.s.sions.

During the solemnization of the Olympic Games, the bitterest animosities were laid aside. The inhabitants of states carrying on a deadly war with each other, met in peace and friendship. Even Megara, with all her hatred to Athens, gave the travellers a cordial welcome. In every house they entered, bread, wine, and salt, were offered to Zeus Xinias, the patron of hospitality.

A pleasant grove of cypress trees announced the vicinity of Corinth, famed for its magnificence and beauty. A foot-path from the grove led to a secluded spot, where water was spouted forth by a marble dolphin, at the foot of a brazen statue of Poseidon.

The travellers descended from their chariots to rest under the shadow of the lofty plane trees, and refresh themselves with a draught from the fountain. The public road was thronged with people on their way to Olympia. Most of them drove with renewed eagerness to enter Corinth before the evening twilight; for nearly all travellers made it a point to visit the remarkable scenes in this splendid and voluptuous city, the Paris of the ancient world. A few were attracted by the cool murmuring of the waters, and turned aside to the fountain of Poseidon. Among these was Artaphernes the Persian, who greeted Pericles, and made known his friend Orsames, lately arrived from Ecbatana. The stranger said he had with him a parcel for Anaxagoras; and inquired whether any tidings of that philosopher had been lately received in Athens. Pericles informed them of the death of the good old man, and mentioned that his grand-daughter, accompanied by her husband and attendants, was then in a retired part of the grove. The Persian took from his chariot a roll of parchment and a small box, and placed them in the hands of Geta, to be conveyed to Philothea. The tears came to her eyes, when she discovered that it was a friendly epistle from Philaemon to his beloved old master.

It appeared to have been written soon after he heard of his exile, and was accompanied by a gift of four minae. His own situation was described as happy as it could be in a foreign land. His time was princ.i.p.ally employed in instructing the sons of the wealthy satrap, Megabyzus; a situation which he owed to the friendly recommendation of Artaphernes.

At the close, after many remarks concerning the politics of Athens, he expressed a wish to be informed of Eudora's fate, and an earnest hope that she was not beyond the reach of Philothea's influence.

This letter awakened busy thoughts. The happy past and a cheerful future were opened to her mind, in all the distinctness of memory and the brightness of hope. At such moments, her heart yearned for the ready sympathy she had been wont to receive from Paralus. As she drew aside the curtains of the litter, and looked upon him in tranquil slumber, she thought of the wonderful gift of t.i.thonus, with an intense anxiety, to which her quiet spirit was usually a stranger. Affectionate recollections of Eudora, and the antic.i.p.ated joy of meeting, mingled with this deeper tide of feeling, and increased her desire to arrive at the end of their journey. Pericles shared her anxiety, and admitted no delays but such as were necessary for the health of the invalid.

From Corinth they pa.s.sed into the pleasant valleys of Arcadia, encircled with verdant hills. Here nature reigned in simple beauty, unadorned by the magnificence of art. The rustic temples were generally composed of intertwined trees, in the recesses of which were placed wooden images of Pan, "the simple shepherd's awe-inspiring G.o.d." Here and there an aged man reposed in the shadow of some venerable oak; and the shepherds, as they tended their flocks, welcomed this brief interval of peace with the mingled music of reeds and flutes.

Thence the travellers pa.s.sed into the broad and goodly plains of Elis; protected from the spoiler by its sacred character, as the seat of the Olympic Games. In some places, troops of women might be seen in the distance, washing garments in the river Alpheus, and spreading them out to whiten in the sun. Fertility rewarded the labours of the husbandmen, and the smiling fields yielded pasturage to numerous horses, which Phoebus himself might have prized for strength, fleetness, and majestic beauty.

Paralus pa.s.sed through all these scenes entirely unconscious whether they were sad or cheerful. When he spoke, it was of things unrecognized by those of earthly mould; yet those who heard him found therein a strange and marvellous beauty, that seemed not altogether new to the soul, but was seen in a dim and pleasing light, like the recollections of infant years.

The travellers stopped at a small town in the neighbourhood of Olympia, where Paralus, Philothea, and their attendants were to remain during the solemnization of the games. The place chosen for their retreat was the residence of Proclus and his wife Melissa; worthy, simple-hearted people, at whose house Phidias had died, and under whose protection he had placed Eudora.