No More Learning

The characters are painted in bold, rich colors. Hero and heroine are so
beautiful that they can be compared only to great works of art: Chaereas
resembles the pictures and statues of Achilles, Nireus, Hippolytus,
Alcibiades. Callirhoe is now Aphrodite incarnate, now Artemis. Love is
enflamed by their great beauty and enters through their eyes at their
first sight of each other. Chaereas is proud and arrogant because of his
looks and so passionate that he is unrestrained in his anger when he
believes Callirhoe false. The kick which he gave his bride is a blot on
his character which the reader finds harder to condone than Callirhoe
did. She declares that cruel Fortune forced her husband to this act, for
he never before had struck even a slave. He is also so mercurial that he
repeatedly gives way to despair and is repeatedly saved from committing
suicide by his devoted friend and companion, Polycharmus. He appears in
more heroic guise as a warrior when he joins the Egyptians against
Artaxerxes and Dionysius, resolved to die in battle, and wins a great
naval victory. He is generous in sending the captive queen back to her
lord. And he fulfills the ideals of romantic chivalry by declaring to
Callirhoe at the end that she is the mistress of his soul.

Callirhoe like Helen had the gift of fatal beauty so that all men who
saw her fell in love with her and she incurred for a time the jealousy
of Aphrodite. But in spite of every temptation her spirit remained
virginal and she was persuaded to marry Dionysius only to give a nominal
father to her unborn child. She meets misfortune with natural tears, but
with more fortitude than Chaereas shows. And she rules her anger even
when the eunuch of King Artaxerxes makes insulting proposals to her by
remembering that she had been well brought up and as a Greek taught
self-control. She handles difficult situations with a woman’s intuitive
tact as when she writes a consoling farewell letter to Dionysius,
without letting her husband have the pain of knowing of it and its
tenderness. By it she secures Dionysius’ care for the son he still
believes his own. She wins from Chaereas with gentle tact a promise to
send back the captives Statira and the beautiful Rhodogyne to the
Persians. And in meek devotion at the end she essays to win even the
goddess Aphrodite to complete reconciliation.

Polycharmus is a type more than an individual, for he is to Chaereas
what Achates was to Aeneas, the faithful friend who accompanies him
through all adventures. With boyish zeal, he hides from his parents in
Syracuse his plan to go with Chaereas on his search for Callirhoe, but
he appears on the stern of the ship as it sails in time to wave a
farewell to his father and mother. His chief function is to encourage
Chaereas and prevent his suicide. At the end on their return to Syracuse
he is rewarded by being given Chaereas’ sister for a bride and a part of
the spoils of war for a dowry.

Dionysius is a sympathetic and noble character; indeed his sins are all
for love. He is in deep mourning for his dead wife when Callirhoe is
purchased as a slave by his manager. Although he believes that no person
who is not free-born can be truly beautiful, he is overwhelmed with love
at the first sight of Callirhoe. With tactful sympathy he draws out her
story and believes it. He never forces his passion upon her, but woos
her delicately through his maid-servant, Plangon, and is overjoyed when
Callirhoe finally consents to legal marriage for the purpose of raising
a family. Even then in spite of his desire he delays the marriage that
he may do Callirhoe the honor of a great wedding in the city. His
happiness is complete to his mind when after seven months a son is born.
So it is because of his sincere love that when he hears that a Syracusan
warship has arrived to demand Callirhoe back, he commends his slave
Phocas who out of loyalty to his master had persuaded barbarians to
destroy the ship and its crew. Dionysius’ only anxiety is that since
some of the men escaped, Chaereas may still be alive. This last fact he
conceals from Callirhoe and to comfort her for Chaereas’ supposed death
persuades her to erect a cenotaph to her first husband’s memory. Later
when he receives the intercepted letter of Chaereas to Callirhoe, he
faints with grief and fear, but coming to he believes the letter forged
as part of a plot of Mithridates to win the favor of his bride, so he
accuses Mithridates to the Great King. Summoned to Babylon to the trial
he is in constant terror, for “he looked on all men as his rivals”
knowing the devastating effects of Callirhoe’s beauty. When Chaereas is
produced alive in the trial, he argues valiantly for the retention of
his wife with some telling thrusts at Chaereas, but finally when he has
lost his love, he bears his grief like a man, having remarkable
self-control, treasuring Callirhoe’s affectionate letter as true solace,
and devoting himself to her son. Dionysius, as Callirhoe reminds him
once, is a Greek with a Greek education.

Among the orientals, resplendent princes appear often only to be
numbered among the disconsolate lovers of Callirhoe and because of their
passion to assist in furthering the complications of the plot. Such are
Mithridates and Pharnaces. More individualized portraits are painted of
King Artaxerxes and Queen Statira. Oriental magnificence is the aura of
the Great King’s personality whether he appears presiding in the
court-room, or hunting in Tyrian purple with golden dagger and elegant
bow and arrow on his caparisoned horse, or riding to war with his great
army and his retinue: his queen, her attendants, his eunuchs, all their
gold and silver and fine raiment. Yet through this rich setting appears
a wise ruler who takes counsel of his advisers in times of crises,
listens judiciously to evidence in the court-room, and in war follows
the military traditions of Cyrus the Great. But he has his human side:
is influenced by wine, loneliness and the dark, and succumbs to
Callirhoe’s beauty though he is married to a great and subtle queen.
Hoping to win the object of his passion he is not above machinations
with his eunuch who acts as his go-between and with optimistic hope of
success even has Callirhoe taken along with the queen when he goes to
war. Yet when Statira is restored to him by Chaereas’ magnanimity, he
welcomes her warmly although her news that Callirhoe is with Chaereas is
like “a fresh blow upon an old wound. ” He appears most human after
hearing Statira’s story of all that happened, for he is filled with
varied emotions: wrath at the capture of his dear ones, sorrow at the
departure of Chaereas, and final gratitude that Chaereas had ended the
possibility of his seeing Callirhoe. Out of his own conflict of
emotions, he breaks gently to Dionysius the news of his loss of
Callirhoe and calls him away from personal sorrow by giving him higher
responsibility in the realm. Artaxerxes is really made to appear in the
novel as the Great King.

Statira is no less the queen. She is delighted when her husband suddenly
intrusts Callirhoe to her care, regarding his action as an honor and a
sign of confidence. She encourages Callirhoe with tactful sympathy and
secures needed rest for her, keeping away the curious ladies who hurry
to the palace to call. After a few days Statira can not resist asking
Callirhoe which husband she preferred, but her curiosity is not rewarded
for Callirhoe only weeps. As time goes on Statira’s jealousy is aroused
because Callirhoe’s beauty outshines her own and because she is fully
aware of the significance of the King’s more frequent visits to the
women’s quarters. So when Artaxerxes is preparing to start off for war,
the queen does not ask what will become of Callirhoe because she does
not wish to have to take her, but the King at the end demands her
presence. Apparently Statira never betrayed her jealousy to Callirhoe,
for after Chaereas took captive all the women in Aradus, Callirhoe has
only praise for her kindness to relate to Chaereas and calls Statira her
dearest friend. Her generous happiness in being able to return Statira’s
courtesy by sending her back to her husband wins from Statira a just
encomium: “You have shown a noble nature, one that is worthy of your
beauty. It was a happy sponsorship indeed which the King intrusted to
me. ” Callirhoe on parting commends her child to the queen’s care and
secretly consigns to the queen her letter to Dionysius. Statira is still
a subtle enough woman to enjoy telling the King at once on her return
without her rival: “You have me as a gift from Callirhoe. ”

Set off against the Great King of the Persians is Hermocrates, the
general of Syracuse who defeated the Athenians. His greatness as an
admiral is matched by his leadership as a citizen. At the trial of
Chaereas for the murder of Callirhoe it is Hermocrates whose generous
plea in his daughter’s name secures from the people a vote of acquittal.
He listens to the wish of the people assembled when they urge him to
marry his daughter to Chaereas. When Theron, the pirate, is captured and
the crowd at Syracuse is milling about him, Hermocrates insists on a
public trial for him in accordance with the laws and after the evidence
is presented it is by a vote of the people that he is condemned. Then
Hermocrates asks the people to vote to send a ship in search of his
kidnapped daughter as a reward for his patriotic services. Callirhoe’s
pride centers in her father no less than in her Greek blood. Her reunion
with her father at the end of the romance is almost as moving as her
restoral to Chaereas. Hermocrates shines forth in untarnished glory as a
patriotic admiral, a leader of thought in a democratic state, and a
devoted father.

The minor parts are painted with less subtlety. Theron, the villain of
the story, is a black-hearted pirate dominated only by gain and
self-interest, ready to save his life at the expense of his
fellow-sailors. Slaves are presented as vivaciously as they are in
comedy. Plangon, the maid of Dionysius, is a shrewd, cunning
opportunist, ready to serve her master’s interests but not without
kindness to the distraught Callirhoe in her plight of pregnancy.
Artaxates, the eunuch of Artaxerxes, is venal, wily, complaisant and
low-minded. As the confidant of Artaxerxes he takes his cues from his
master’s words, and solicits his favor by an attempt to seduce
Callirhoe’s heart for him. As a eunuch, a slave and a barbarian (says
Chariton) he could not conceive that Callirhoe would not yield to the
wishes of the King. When he is unable to persuade her by flattery, he
threatens her with the King’s vengeance. And when her words betray her
love for Chaereas, Artaxates can call her only a poor, foolish girl for
preferring a slave to the Great King of the Persians.

The use of the crowd by Chariton is another link between his romance and
drama, for it often fulfills the function assumed by the chorus in
tragedy, that is, the part of the spectator who comments on the action
and interprets it. It is the people of Syracuse in assembly that
persuades Hermocrates to wed his daughter to Chaereas. The crowd votes
the crucifixion of Theron and attends it. At Miletus the crowd joins in
Dionysius’ prayer to Aphrodite to protect Callirhoe and her son. The
crowd at Babylon is struck dumb with amazement at the radiance of
Callirhoe. And when the Great King is to decide whether Chaereas or
Dionysius is to be her husband, all Babylon becomes a court-room as the
people discuss the rival partners. At the end of the romance, all the
harbor of Syracuse is filled with men to watch the ship come in, and
when Chaereas and Callirhoe are revealed on it, the crowd bursts into
tears. All rush to the theater and demand that there at once Chaereas
tell them his adventures. “Tell us everything,” they keep shouting. They
groan at his misfortunes. They offer prayers for the future of his son.
They shout assent to his proposal to make his three hundred valiant
Greek soldiers fellow-citizens of Syracuse. Indeed the crowd is
constantly the background of the action of the romance.

Various mechanical devices used in the development of the plot show
Chariton’s art of narration. Conversation as any novel demands is
constantly used. Soliloquies are introduced frequently: at some
emotional crisis, Chariton, instead of describing the thoughts and
feelings of his characters, has them burst into speech to themselves.
Callirhoe on hearing of the supposed loss of Chaereas with the warship
laments his death and the destruction of her father’s gallant vessel.
Later beside the Euphrates river when she can no longer see “the ocean
which led back to Syracuse,” she upbraids cruel Fortune for driving her
farther and farther from home. Again, in horror at the proposals of the
eunuch, she laments all her misfortunes and expresses her resolve to die
as befits Hermocrates’ daughter rather than become the mistress of the
Great King. So too Dionysius on the return of Chaereas, after attempts
at self-control, bursts forth with despair and jealousy into a lament
over the imminent loss of his love. At the same time Chaereas, believing
that Callirhoe loves Dionysius and will never return to him from the
wealthy Ionian, utters a bitter lament before attempting to hang
himself.

Letters also are an important means of developing the plot in the Greek
Romances, especially in Chariton. He uses seven letters. [27] Chaereas’
first letter to Callirhoe is an impassioned love-letter with an appeal
for forgiveness and for an assurance that she still loves him. This is a
crucial letter in the plot because it is sent by Bias of Priene to
Dionysius himself who conceals it from Callirhoe. Bias sends a brief
business letter with it. Pharnaces, governor of Lydia, on the
instigation of Dionysius writes a letter to Artaxerxes accusing
Mithridates of trying to seduce Dionysius’ wife. This letter is
important for the plot, because it motivates the trial of Mithridates.
The Great King on receiving it dispatches two laconic business letters
to Pharnaces summoning Dionysius and to Mithridates calling him to
trial. The other two letters do not affect the plot, but reveal the
characters of the senders. These are the letters in Book VIII of
Chaereas to Artaxerxes and of Callirhoe to Dionysius. Chaereas proudly
sends back Statira unharmed as the gift of Callirhoe to the Great King.
Callirhoe with a woman’s intuition comforts Dionysius for her loss by
gratitude for his protection, by assuring him that she is with him in
spirit in the presence of her son whom she intrusts to his care. She
begs him not to marry again, but to bring up the daughter of his first
wife and her own son, eventually marry them to each other and send him
to Syracuse to see his grandfather. She includes a message to Plangon
and ends with an appeal to good Dionysius to remember his Callirhoe. It
is hardly strange that Callirhoe concealed this masterpiece of
epistolography from her jealous husband, Chaereas.

The taking of an oath is often an important feature of Greek Romances.
In Chariton, Dionysius swears solemnly by the sea, by Aphrodite and by
Eros that he will marry Callirhoe according to the Greek laws “for the
begetting of children” and will bring up any child she bears. [28] Dreams
too play their part in the plot. In a dream Dionysius sees an apparition
of his dead wife as she looked on her wedding-day. His slave Leonas
interprets the dream as prophetic of his coming happiness with the newly
purchased slave, Callirhoe. [29] Callirhoe in her sleep sees a phantom of
Chaereas who says to her: “My wife, I intrust our son to you. ” This
dream determines her to bring up her baby and so to marry Dionysius. [30]
In Babylon when she is dreading having to appear in court, she has a
dream of her happy wedding to Chaereas in Syracuse. The maid Plangon
interprets the dream as a good omen for future happiness. [31] King
Artaxerxes had a dream of gods demanding sacrifice so he proclaimed a
festival of thirty days throughout Asia. This delayed his decision
between Chaereas and Dionysius, hence was most important for the plot
because wars arose before the court was held and in them Chaereas and
Callirhoe came together. [32]

Apparent deaths are a common device of the Greek novelists and
Chariton’s plot turns on two, the supposed death of Callirhoe from
Chaereas’ blow and her subsequent burial; the reported death of Chaereas
on his warship. Concomitant with such deaths are the unexpected
reappearances which add the element of surprise, so essential for the
characters and the crowd.

Descriptive passages are few and brief in Chariton and are often worked
out in a suggestive simile rather than in a conspicuous purple patch.
Chaereas was as “radiant as a star. The flush of exercise bloomed on his
glowing face like gold on silver. ” Callirhoe, recognizing her lover,
became more stately and lovely than ever, as a flickering lamp again
flares up when oil is poured in. [33] Public ceremonies are described at
more length: the funeral procession of Callirhoe,[34] her wedding to
Dionysius. [35] Space is given too to the description of Artaxerxes’
hunt, that favorite ancient sport;[36] to storm at sea;[37] to war. [38]
But all these descriptions are concise in their picturesqueness.

Finally clarity in the narrative is secured by repeated résumés of the
story either by the characters or by the author himself. Callirhoe tells
her tragic tale to Dionysius with such sincerity that he believes it and
honors her as a free-born woman. [39] Polycharmus relates his adventures
with Chaereas to Mithridates and thereby saves his friend and himself
from crucifixion. [40] Chaereas at the end unfolds the whole Odyssey of
his wanderings to the populace in the theater of Syracuse. [41] At the
beginning of Book V Chariton epitomizes all the preceding part of the
novel and at the beginning of Book VIII he recapitulates the preceding
book and reassures his audience about the final book.

“Furthermore, I think that this last book will be the most pleasant of
all to my readers, and in fact will serve as an antidote to the tragic
events of the former ones. No more piracy or slavery or court trials
or battles or suicide or war or capture here, but true love and lawful
marriage! And so I am going to tell you how the goddess brought the
truth to light and revealed the unsuspecting lovers to each other. ”

The happy ending which Chariton here forecasts is an essential feature
of a Greek romance. For in this type of literature in which Chariton is
a pioneer, virtue must triumph. The ethics demands that the hero and
heroine must be noble in character as well as in station and that
therefore justice must be done to virtue. The hero we have seen must
possess personal courage and military courage. He must be capable of
emotional devotion, first of all to his lady, then to his friend, and
always to his father. His faults are those of pride, arrogance and
passion and his moments of brutality are condoned by his contemporaries
on account of his passionate temperament. He can be generous to his
foes. He can show pity to the unfortunate. But his sympathies, even when
the type is embodied in as noble a character as Dionysius, are evoked by
the free-born in distress, rarely by slaves. The virtues of the heroine
are first of all chastity, then loyal devotion to parents, husband and
child, pride of family, generosity of spirit and sympathy. She is
capable of resolute decision and heroic action if her chastity is
menaced or her dear ones are in danger. Standards different from our own
best ones appear in the general attitude towards slaves as an inferior
class and in the brutality manifested in the hero’s kick, in executions
on the cross, in torture of witnesses. Cleverness and deception are
traits which are prized more highly than we admit now. The noblest
sentiments expressed are in behalf of liberty and patriotism.

Religion plays so important a part in the romance that it demands a full
treatment. Chariton’s novel is dominated by two cults: the worship of
the abstract goddess Fortune, the worship of the goddess of love,
Aphrodite. At the end of Book I Callirhoe, just after she has been sold
as a slave, in a soliloquy, upbraids cruel Fortune for all her troubles,
for the goddess made her lover her murderer, surrendered her to
tomb-robbers and now has let her be sold as a slave. Again Callirhoe,
when she finds that she is pregnant, reproaches Fortune for letting her
bear a child to be a slave. And on the banks of the Euphrates in another
soliloquy Callirhoe again charges Fortune with all her miseries and
blames her for taking “delight in persecuting one lone girl. ”
Mithridates tells Chaereas: “The whims of Fortune have involved you in
this melancholy drama. ” Queen Statira, when captured, exclaims that
Fortune has preserved her to see this day of slavery. And the author of
the romance as well as the characters repeatedly attributes to Fortune
the strange and sad misadventures of his hero and heroine. Callirhoe,
Chariton says, “was overcome by the stratagems of Fortune, against whom
alone human reason has no power. She is a divinity who loves opposition,
and there is nothing which may not be expected of her. ” Throughout the
romance Fortune seems to be conceived not as blind chance, but as a
baleful goddess, who takes delight in cruelty and torture.

In conflict with her machinations is the power of the goddess of love
whom the young lovers worship. As clearly as in a Greek tragedy
Aphrodite’s influence is predominant throughout the romance. At the very
beginning, Chaereas and Callirhoe see each other for the first time at a
festival of the goddess and immediately fall in love. The end of the
romance is the prayer of thanks which Callirhoe offers to Aphrodite in
her temple at Syracuse. Callirhoe is so beautiful that over and over she
seems Aphrodite incarnate, now to the slave-dealer, Leonas, now to
Dionysius, now to the crowd at the time of her marriage to Dionysius,
now in Babylon. Prayers for aid are constantly offered to the goddess by
Callirhoe, by Chaereas, by Dionysius, by Artaxerxes, and these
worshippers offer their petitions in her temples in Syracuse, in
Miletus, in Babylon, in Aradus and in Cyprus. Her power is acknowledged;
her favor is asked. Chaereas discovers Callirhoe is alive by seeing a
golden statue of her which Dionysius had dedicated in the temple of
Aphrodite near Miletus. Chariton himself in his résumé at the beginning
of Book VIII records the influence that Aphrodite had in his story. When
Fortune was maneuvering to have Chaereas leave his wife behind at
Aradus, all unaware of her presence, “this seemed outrageous to
Aphrodite,” says Chariton, “who, though she had previously been terribly
angered at Chaereas’ uncalled-for jealousy, whereby he had insolently
rejected her kindness after receiving from her a gift more superlatively
beautiful even than Paris’ prize, was by now becoming reconciled with
him. And since Chaereas had now nobly redeemed himself in the eyes of
Love by his wanderings from west to east amid countless sufferings,
Aphrodite felt pity for him, and, as she had in the beginning brought
together this noble pair, so now, having harried them long over land and
sea, she was willing once more to unite them. ”

The final consideration about Chariton must be the style of his work.
And first of all the inquiry rises to our lips: how did the secretary of
Athenagoras become so distinguished in the art of narration? Homer, I am
convinced, is the master from whom, as Dante from Vergil, he took his
beautiful style. The romance is rich in literary allusions, but beyond
all others Homer is quoted repeatedly (twenty-four times indeed) and
with great effectiveness. Sometimes a mere transitional phrase is
adopted:

“while the words were yet on his lips. ”[42]

In descriptions the brevity and simplicity of Homer are used with such
nicety that the language often trails off naturally into the very words
of the epic. In the thirty day festival at Babylon

“the sweet savor arose to heaven eddying amid the smoke. ”[43]

Men are pictured fighting and in their close array

“buckler pressed on buckler, helm on helm, and man on man. ”[44]

And as the conflict joined and Chaereas rushed against his enemies, he

“smote them right and left and there rose a hideous moaning. ”[45]

Artaxerxes in his court is compared to Zeus among the assembled
gods. [46] A phantom of Chaereas appears to Callirhoe resembling him

“in stature, and fair eyes, and voice, and the raiment of his body was
the same. ”[47]

When Callirhoe came into the court-room in Babylon,

“she looked just as the divine poet says that Helen did, when she
appeared to ‘them that were with Priam and Panthöos and Thymoëtes . . .
being elders of the people. ’[48] At the sight of her, admiring silence
fell, ‘and each one uttered a prayer that he might be her
bedfellow. ’”[49]

Besides this use of Homeric phrases in descriptions, quotations are
frequently introduced in conversations as if Chariton found only Homer’s
words expressive to convey the thought of one character to another. [50]
But far more important than such uses of Homeric phraseology is the
intensification of emotional coloring by a quotation from Homer at a
crisis of poignant feeling. When Callirhoe’s nurse calls her to get up
for it is her wedding day,

“her knees and heart were unstrung,”

because she did not know whom she was to marry. [51] When Chaereas is
told that his wife is an adulteress,

“a black cloud of grief enwrapped him, and with both hands he took
dark dust and poured it over his head and defiled his comely
face. ”[52]

When Chaereas is determined to set sail in winter in search of his
kidnapped bride, his mother begged him to take her with him and cried in
Homer’s words:

“My child, have regard unto this bosom and pity me if ever I gave thee
consolation of my breast. ”[53]

When Dionysius suddenly learned at a banquet that Chaereas was alive
from reading his letter to Callirhoe,

“his knees and his heart were unstrung. ”[54]

When Artaxerxes was smitten with love for Callirhoe, he lay awake all
night,

“now lying on his side, now on his back, now on his face.
”[55]

When Chaereas and Callirhoe had their ecstatic reunion on Aradus,

“when they had had their fill of tears and story-telling, embracing
each other,

‘they came gladly to the rites of their bed, as of old. ’”[56]

Enough illustrations of Chariton’s use of Homer have been given to show
the manner of it. Different explanations of Chariton’s constant use have
been advanced. Schmid thinks it is an indication of the influence of the
Menippean satire with its mingling of prose and verse. Jacob believes it
due to Chariton’s desire to make his style poetic. Calderini is more
understanding. He thinks that Chariton, thoroughly familiar with Homer,
quoted him to express worthily some noble thought and that he saw the
peculiar emphasis which a quotation from Homer could give to the
expression of a sudden, violent emotion. He also uses episodes from
Homer (the appeal of Hecuba from the wall to Hector,[57] the apparition
of Patroclus before Achilles,[58] the Homeric τειχοσκοπία). [59] More
than all, his style is usually Homeric in its brevity and simplicity;
and in his use of quotations, of scenes and of style he is the first
example of those relations between epic and romance which became so
important in the mediaeval literature of the west. [60]

Other literary influences are apparent. The Milesian Tales may have
suggested Miletus as the locality for the love-story of Dionysius. The
Ninus Romance is the precursor of the historical element which paints a
background of realism through the use of historical characters, notably
Hermocrates and Artaxerxes, and through allusions to actual wars. Drama
contributed the language of the stage to the description of the action.
And at one crisis when Chaereas, who is believed dead, is produced by
Mithridates in court, Chariton explains:

“Who could worthily tell of the appearance of the courtroom then? What
dramatist ever produced so incredible a situation on the stage? Indeed,
you might have thought that you were in a theater, filled with a
multitude of conflicting passions. ”[61] In another passage Mithridates
says Fortune has forced the lovers to enact a very sad tragedy. [62] New
comedy contributed types of characters (particularly the slaves), spicy
dialogue and at least two quotations. [63] The influence of history and
especially of Herodotus is apparent in the use of local history, in
narratives of adventure, in depiction of the adulation of the eastern
sovereign, in the reflection of the great struggle between the west and
the east. The influence of the rhetorical schools is seen in the court
scenes which in both their cases and speeches are strangely like those
of the _Controversiae_ of Seneca and the _Declamationes_ of Quintilian.

All these different literary forces combined to produce a style of
narration in Chariton which is at the same time simple and ingenuous,
yet rhetorical. His startling baroque effects are achieved by just this
variation from simple concise epic narrative with strong Homeric
coloring, to intense dramatic moments of high tragedy, to comic scenes
of slaves’ intrigues, to love passages which before had found expression
only in poetry. Probably Chariton learned the effective use of
parallelism, contrast and surprise from the schools of rhetoric, but he
wields all his various tools with such success that he has carved out a
new form of literature in his prose romance.




III
_THE_ EPHESIACA _OR_ HABROCOMES AND ANTHIA
_BY XENOPHON OF EPHESUS_


“Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:

Love’s not Time’s Fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me prov’d,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d. ”

Shakespeare’s famous CXVI sonnet is the lyric _credo_ of those who
believe that love can triumph over adversity, old age and even death
itself. The lines just quoted are the quintessence of lyric romance.

Suppose now that the romantic novel or the modern cinema wishes to
feature this same theme: “True love lasts. ” How would either one convey
the idea? I am going to show you by a concrete and melodramatic
illustration. Here is a script for it. [64]

A young Greek who has been seeking over the world his kidnapped bride
has come to Sicily, his resources nearly gone. An old fisherman
Aegialeus gives him hospitality. It is night. The young man and the old
man tell each other their sad love stories. The old man is now speaking:

“I was a wealthy young Spartan and loved a Spartan girl, Thelxinoe. She
returned my love and presently we had, no one knowing it, our heart’s
desire. But my darling’s parents proposed to marry her to another
Spartan. So we fled secretly together and Sparta pronounced sentence of
death on us both. We managed to travel to Sicily. Here we lived in dire
poverty, but in our happiness we forgot all else because we were
together. Soon my dear died, but her body was not buried. I have her
with me and I love her always and I am with her. ” After these words he
led Habrocomes into an inner room and showed him the mummy that had been
Thelxinoe. She was old now, but she appeared beautiful to her husband.
“To her,” said he, “I always talk as if she were alive. I sleep here
with her; I eat near her. If I come back tired from my fishing, the
sight of her comforts me. For I do not see her as you do, my son. I see
her as she was in Lacedemon, as she was when we fled. I see the night of
our first love. I see our flight together. ”

The young Greek exclaims:

“O my own dearest love, shall I ever find you even dead? Here to
Aegialeus the body of Thelxinoe is the great comfort of his life. Now
I have learned that age sets no bounds to true love. ”

This story of the second or third century A. D. might seem too macabre to
be possible if the _New York Times_ of Nov. 12, 1940 had not recorded
such a case at Key West, Florida. Karl Tanzler van Cosel, aged X-ray
technician, had removed the body of Elena Hoyas Mesa from its crypt and
had kept it in his bed-room for seven years. He said he had hoped to
restore it to life. Perhaps Xenophon of Ephesus who wrote this story of
Aegialeus and his mummy had heard some such “true story” which he
embodied in his novel. In any case, he has given us here an illustration
of how the theme “true love is eternal” may be pictured in a realistic
romance. Think how dramatic this scene would be in a movie: the small
inner bed-room of the fisherman’s hut suddenly lighted; the old man
getting his young friend to help him remove the front of the coffin,
then looking rapturously at the mummy inside and reaffirming before it
his life-long love. That is my illustration of the heart of a realistic
Greek romance.

Almost nothing is known about Xenophon of Ephesus who wrote it. Suidas
mentions his romance the _Ephesiaca_ in ten books (instead of the
present eight) and speaks also of a work he wrote on the city of
Ephesus. Xenophon probably was a native of Ephesus, for he shows
intimate acquaintance with many details of the cult of Artemis there.
His date can be given only approximately, but considerable internal
evidence helps us to place him. He imitates certain passages in
Chariton, so he must be later than the second century A. D. Certain
references are very important. He is later than Augustus, for he refers
to the prefect of Egypt and of course there was none until after 30
B. C. [65] He mentions the Irenarch of Cilicia, and this official was not
known before Hadrian. [66] He refers to the Artemision of Ephesus as if
it were at the height of its glory and contemporary. [67] It was pillaged
and burned by the Gauls in 263 and only in part rebuilt. But, as
Dalmeyda points out,[68] these details give us only vague indications of
the date. Until some fragment of papyrus which can be dated is
discovered, we can place Xenophon merely with some probability about the
end of the second century of our era.

The novel itself is simple in language and brief in scope, but
complicated in plot from many kaleidoscopic changes of scenes. There are
so many exits and reentries of the characters that we lose track of
them. The brevity of the narrative, the laconic expressions of emotion
in it have made certain critics maintain the theory that it is only an
epitome of a story, or a kind of scenario written as a preliminary
sketch of a longer work. It seems to me possibly an intentionally short
romance written briefly and simply by an author whose taste was akin to
that of Chariton and who perhaps was intentionally showing a definite
reaction against the verbosity of other novelists.

Partly because of the brevity of the romance a synopsis of the plot has
to be long. So much is crowded into small space, so many rapid
transitions from scene to scene are made, that a full sequential outline
must be given before we can study the significance and color of the
romance. Here then is the plot. The chief characters are:

_Habrocomes_ of Ephesus, the handsome hero
_Anthia_ of Ephesus, the beautiful heroine
_Apsyrtos_, a pirate chieftain
_Manto_, the daughter of Apsyrtos
_Moeris_, a Syrian, husband of Manto
_Lampon_, a goatherd, slave of Manto
_Hippothoos_, a brigand
_Perilaos_, a high police official of Cilicia
_Eudoxos_, a physician
_Psammis_, a rajah of India
_Araxos_, an old soldier in Egypt
_Cyno_, his wicked wife
_Aegialeus_, a Syracusan who kept a mummy
_Polyidos_, a captain in Egypt
_Rhenaea_, his jealous wife
A procurer of Taras
_Leucon_, a male slave of Habrocomes and Anthia
_Rhode_, a female slave, his wife

In Ephesus lived a lad named Habrocomes who was sixteen years old. The
beauty of his person was matched by the nobility of his soul. He had one
great fault, pride. And he scorned Eros as less handsome than himself
and unable to control a man against his will. Eros enraged armed himself
against this arrogant boy. It was the time of the festival of Artemis.
At this festival it was the custom to select fiancés. There was a great
procession of young men and women. Anthia, daughter of Megamedes and
Evippe, led the girls, and she was garbed as Artemis. She was so
beautiful that the crowd forgot handsome Habrocomes though a few
exclaimed: “What a couple Habrocomes and Anthia would make! ” Here was
Eros’ opportunity. After the procession broke up and all were attending
the sacrifice in the temple, the two saw each other and were vanquished.

Day by day, night by night love dominated them until both were worn out
by longing. Their parents not knowing what this strange malady was sent
embassies to the oracle of Apollo at Claros. The god diagnosed their
illnesses as the same, needing the same cure; he foretold long suffering
for both, dangerous travel by sea, kidnapping, imprisonment, death and
burial, but he promised final salvation through the goddess Isis and
happy days.

The parents of Habrocomes and Anthia, puzzled and grieved by the oracle,
decided that at least they must use the remedy suggested by the god. So
Habrocomes and Anthia were married, and they did not fear the future
because of their present joy. As time went on, however, it seemed
necessary to the happy pair and to their parents that they should
fulfill the oracle by going on a journey. On the ensuing voyage both
swore mighty oaths (Anthia by Artemis) to be faithful to each other
always. Next they put in at Rhodes for rest. Habrocomes and Anthia hand
in hand visited all the city and dedicated golden armor to the sun-god
in his temple. Then they sailed to Egypt, but the ship was becalmed and
one night Habrocomes had a frightful dream. A giantess clad in red
appeared to him who set fire to the ship, destroyed all the sailors and
saved only himself and Anthia. He awoke in terror and terror became
reality. Phoenician pirates arriving in a great trireme boarded the ship
and drove the sailors into the sea where they drowned. Then they fired
the ship, but took captive Habrocomes and Anthia and bore them off to
the country near Tyre. Corymbos, one of the pirates, became enamored of
Habrocomes; his bosom companion fell in love with Anthia, but before
they could accomplish their wicked designs on them, the chief of the
pirate band Apsyrtos arrived and appropriating the handsome young pair
as part of his booty took them to Tyre.

This was the beginning of worse troubles, for while Apsyrtos was away on
business, his daughter Manto fell in love with Habrocomes and made
advances to him through a slave and a letter. When he refused to satisfy
her desires, for vengeance she accused him to her father of having tried
to rape her. Apsyrtos had Habrocomes flogged, tortured and cast into
prison. Anthia contriving a secret visit to her husband told him she had
been given as a slave to Manto and must accompany her to Syria, where
Manto’s newly acquired husband Moeris lived. The two slaves of
Habrocomes and Anthia, Leucon and Rhode, were sold into a distant land.
Manto to disgrace Anthia as much as possible married her to one of her
humblest slaves, Lampon, a goatherd. But Lampon pitying Anthia on
hearing from her own lips her story respected her and never made her his
actual wife. In Tyre Apsyrtos happened to find the love-letter which his
daughter had written to Habrocomes. Learning from it his unjust
treatment of Habrocomes he released him from prison, gave him his
freedom, and made him steward of his house.

Meanwhile in Syria Anthia’s fatal beauty had inflamed Manto’s husband
Moeris with a mad passion for her. He confided this to the goatherd
Lampon begging for his aid. Lampon to save Anthia went secretly and told
Manto her husband’s designs. Manto in jealous fury ordered Lampon to
kill the woman. In sorrow he told Anthia all and together they planned
that instead of killing her he should sell her as a slave in some remote
district. He managed to hide this transaction and saved her life by
selling her to some Cilician merchants. But their ship was wrecked in a
storm. A few (among them Anthia) came to land on a raft and after
wandering all night in the woods were captured by the brigand
Hippothoos.

Manto meanwhile wrote to her father a letter made up of truth and lies,
saying that the slave Anthia had been so troublesome she had given the
girl to a goatherd and afterwards when Moeris became enamored of the
woman, she had sold both the goatherd and his wife in Syria. Habrocomes
at once started out in search for Anthia and finding Lampon and learning
the true story from him, he set forth for Cilicia.

There, however, Anthia had been in great danger. Hippothoos and his
brigands were about to sacrifice her to Ares, but she was rescued by a
high police official of the district, Perilaos, who captured all the
brigands except Hippothoos. He took her to Tarsus and of course soon
fell in love with her. He offered her honorable marriage, wealth,
children and she fearing his violent passion forced herself to consent
but asked for a month’s delay.

Now Habrocomes riding through Cilicia on his quest met by chance
Hippothoos who begged to be allowed to travel with him. They went into
Cappadocia and there dining together told each other their life
histories, Hippothoos his love of a beautiful lad and the loss of him,
Habrocomes his love for the beautiful Anthia and his loss of her. The
description of Anthia made Hippothoos relate his capture of a fair
maiden and her rescue. Habrocomes, convinced that the girl was Anthia,
persuaded Hippothoos to join him in his search.

But the preparations for the wedding of Perilaos and Anthia were going
on apace, and it would have been consummated had not Anthia found a
friend in an Ephesian physician Eudoxos to whom she confided her
tragedy. She begged him to give her poison so that she might die
faithful. She promised him silver so that he might return to Ephesus.
Eudoxos gave her not poison but a sleeping potion, then hurriedly
departed. The very night of her wedding, in the nuptial chamber, Anthia
took what she believed poison. Perilaos coming to his bride found a
corpse. To do her all honor, the bereft bridegroom had her placed in a
magnificent tomb with splendid funeral gifts.

Robbers broke in the tomb for the treasure just as Anthia awoke. They
carried her off with them to Alexandria. No one else knew she was alive.
Habrocomes heard from an old woman the story of Anthia’s death, of the
pillaging of her tomb and the carrying off of her body. So leaving
Hippothoos he started off alone by ship for Egypt hoping to find the
brigands who had committed such sacrilege. The bandits had already sold
Anthia to a rajah named Psammis, but Anthia saved herself from his
amorousness by telling him that she was a consecrated priestess of Isis
so he respected her.

Habrocomes’ ship missed its course to Alexandria and landed in
Phoenicia. There the inhabitants set upon the strangers and capturing
them sold them as slaves at Pelusium, Habrocomes to an old soldier,
Araxos. This soldier had a hideous and wicked wife Cyno who, falling in
love with Habrocomes, offered to kill her husband and marry him. When he
refused, she herself killed her husband and accused Habrocomes of the
murder. He was sent to Alexandria to be tried. Hippothoos meanwhile had
gathered a new band and in his travels had come to Egypt and made the
mountains near the frontiers of Ethiopia his center for expeditions.
Habrocomes was condemned to death by the Prefect of Egypt, but his
execution was twice frustrated by miracles caused by the Nile river when
he appealed to the sun-god Helios for aid against injustice. So he was
cast into prison.

At this time Psammis started home to India with a great camel train
taking Anthia with him. At Memphis Anthia offered prayers to Isis
begging her aid. As they neared the borders of Ethiopia, Hippothoos with
his band fell upon their caravan and, slaying Psammis and many men,
seized his treasure and took captive Anthia. Hippothoos and Anthia did
not recognize each other.

The Prefect of Egypt, on giving Habrocomes a new hearing, was convinced
of his innocence, freed him and gave him money. So Habrocomes took ship
again and went to Italy to make inquiries there about Anthia. Cyno was
executed.

Anthia was again in danger because of the lust of one of the bandits,
Anchialos. He, while Hippothoos was away, tried to do violence to her,
but she stabbed him fatally with a sword which she had found. Hippothoos
on his return decided, in vengeance for the death of his companion, to
kill her in a horrible way: to put her in a deep trench with two fierce
dogs. But the bandit set to guard the trench from pity secretly conveyed
food to her so that she fed and tamed the beasts.

Habrocomes on arriving at Syracuse in Sicily lived with a poor old
fisherman named Aegialeus who treated him like a son and told him his
own sad love-story. This is the story of the Mummy in the House.
Hippothoos left Ethiopia to go to Alexandria and believing Anthia dead
made no inquiries about her. The bandit left to guard her, now in love
with her, hid in a cave with a good store of provisions until the
caravan had gone, then released Anthia and the devoted dogs. He swore by
the Sun and the gods of Egypt to respect her until she voluntarily came
to his arms, so dogs and all they started on their travels.

The Prefect of Egypt had sent a company of soldiers under Polyidos to
disperse the bandits of whose marauding he had heard. Hippothoos’ band
was broken up; indeed he alone escaped. He embarked on a ship for
Sicily. Polyidos next captured Anthia and her escort. Polyidos although
he had a wife in Alexandria at once fell in love with Anthia and when
they reached Memphis, tried to rape her, but she fled to the temple of
Isis as a suppliant. Polyidos then swore that he would respect her if
she would return to him, saying that to see her and speak to her would
satisfy his love, so she went back to his care. On their arrival at
Alexandria, Rhenaea the wife of Polyidos was nearly insane with jealousy
of the girl her husband had brought home. One day in her husband’s
absence she beat and reviled poor Anthia, then gave her to a faithful
slave with orders to take her to Italy and sell her there to a procurer.
This he did at Taras.

Hippothoos by this time had reached Sicily and was staying at
Tauromenium. Habrocomes at Syracuse in despair planned to go to Italy
and if he found no news of Anthia there, to return to Ephesus. The
parents of the young pair in their anxiety over them had died. The
slaves Leucon and Rhode who had been sold in Lycia had, on the death of
their master, inherited his wealth. They were on their way back to
Ephesus but were staying at Rhodes.

The procurer now forced Anthia to stand in front of his brothel,
magnificently arrayed, to attract customers. When many had gathered
because of her beauty, Anthia feigned a seizure and fell down in the
sight of all in convulsions. Later when she declared to the procurer
that she had had this malady since childhood, he treated her kindly.

Hippothoos in Tauromenium had come into great need. So when an elderly
woman fell in love with him, constrained by poverty, he married her.
Very shortly she died, leaving him all her possessions. So he set sail
for Italy always hoping to find his dear Habrocomes. Arriving at Taras
he saw Anthia in the slave market where the procurer because of her
illness was exhibiting her for sale. Hippothoos, recognizing her,
learned from her lips her story, pitied her, bought her and offered her
marriage.