Leucippe's mother having discovered Clitophon one night in the chamber of her daughter, the lovers resolved to avoid the effects of her anger by flight [ii. 30]. Accompanied by Clinias, a friend of Clitophon, they sailed in the first instance for Berytus. A conversation which took place between Clitophon and Clinias during the voyage, seems to have been suggested by the singular disquisition contained in the "Epwreç, attributed to Lucian, and usually published in his works. After a short stay at Berytus, the fugitives set out for Alexandria: the vessel was wrecked on the third day of the voyage [iii. 1], but Clitophon and Leucippe, adhering with great presence of mind to the same plank, were driven on shore near Pelusium in Egypt [iii. 5]. At this place they hired a vessel to carry them to Alexandria, but while sailing up the Nile they were seized by a band of robbers who infested the banks of the river [iii. 9]. The robbers were soon after attacked by the Egyptian forces, commanded by Charmides, to whom Clitophon escaped during the heat of the engagement— Leucippe, however, remained in the power of the enemy, who, with much solemnity, apparently ripped up our heroine close to the army of Charmides, and in the sight of her lover, who was prevented from interfering by a deep fosse which separated the two armies [iii. 15]. The ditch having been filled up, Clitophon in the course of the night went to immolate himself on the spot where Leucippe had been interred. He arrived at her tomb, but was prevented from executing his purpose by the sudden appearance of his servant Satyrus, and of Menelaus, a young man who had sailed with him in the vessel from Berytus. These two persons had also escaped from the shipwreck, and had afterwards fallen into the power of the robbers. By them Leucippe had been accommodated with a false uterus, made of sheep's skin, which gave rise to the deceptio visus above related [iii. 19-23]. At the command of Menelaus, Leucippe issued from the tomb [iii. 17], and proceeded with Clitophon and Menelaus to the quarters of Charmides [iii. 23]. In a short time this commander became enamoured of Leucippe [iv. 6], as did also Gorgias, one of his officers. Gorgias gave her a potion calculated to inspire her with reciprocal passion, but which, being too strong, affected her with a species of madness of a very indecorous character.' She is cured, however, by Chaereas, another person who had fallen in love with her [v. 13], and had discovered the secret of the potion from the servant of Gorgias [iv. 15]. Taking Chaereas along with them, Clitophon and Leucippe sail for Alexandria. Soon after their arrival, Leucippe was carried off from the neighbourhood of that place, and hurried on board a vessel by a troop of banditti employed by Chaereas. Clitophon pursued the vessel, but when just coming up with it he saw the head of a person he mistook for Leucippe struck off by the robbers [v. 7]. Disheartened by this incident, he relinquished the pursuit and returned to Alexandria. There he was informed that Melite, a rich Ephesian widow, at that time residing in Alexandria, had fallen in love with him. This intelligence he received from his old friend Clinias [v. 11], who, after the wreck of the vessel in which he had embarked with Clitophon, had got on shore by the usual expedient of a plank, and now suggested to his friend that he should avail himself of the predilection of Melite [v. 12]. In compliance with this suggestion, he set sail with her for Ephesus, but persisted in postponing the nuptials till they should reach that place, spite of the most vehement importunities on the part of the widow. On their arrival at Ephesus the marriage took place, but before Melite's object in the marriage had been accomplished, Clitophon discovered Leucippe among his wife's slaves; and Thersander, Melite's husband, who was supposed to be drowned, arrived at Ephesus. Clitiphon was instantly confined by the enraged husband [v. 23]; but, on condition of putting the last seal to the now invalid marriage, he escaped by the intervention of Melite. He had not proceeded far when he was overtaken by Thersander, and brought back to confinement. Thersander, of course, fell in love with Leucippe, but not being able to engage her affections, he brought two actions; one declaratory, that Leucippe was his slave, and a prosecution against Clito 1 During this state of mental alienation she commits many acts of extravagance. She boxes her lover on the ear, repulses Menelaus with her feet, and at last quarrels with her petticoats; ý dè πpoσeñáλaiɛv ἡμῖν δὲν φροντίζεσα κρύπτειν ὅσα γυνὴ μὴ ὁρᾶσθαι θέλει. 1. 4. c. 9. phon for marrying his wife [vi. 5]. The debates [vii. 712, viii. 8-16] on both sides are insufferably tiresome. The priest of Diana, with whom Leucippe had taken refuge, lavishes much abuse on Thersander, which is returned on his part with equal volubility. Leucippe is at last subjected to a trial of chastity in the cave of Diana, from which the sweetest music issued when entered by those who resembled its goddess. Never were notes heard so melodious as those by which Leucippe was vindicated. Thersander was of course nonsuited, and retired loaded with infamy [viii. 14]. Leucippe then related that it was a woman dressed in her clothes, whose head had been struck off by the banditti, in order to deter Clitophon from farther pursuit, but that a quarrel having arisen among them on her account, Chaereas was slain, and after his death she was sold by the other pirates to Sosthenes. By him she had been purchased for Thersander, in whose service she remained till discovered by Clitophon [viii. 16]. In this romance many of the descriptions are borrowed from Philostratus, and the Hero and Leander of Musæus. Some of the events have also been taken from Heliodorus.1 Like that author, Tatius makes frequent use of robbers, pirates, and dreams; but the general style of his work is totally different. If there be less sweetness and interest than in Theagenes and Chariclea, there is more bustle in the action. A number of the amorous stratagems, too, are original and well imagined-such as Clitophon's discourse on love with Satyrus, in the hearing of Leucippe [i. 16-20]; and the beautiful incident of the bee [ii. 7], which has been adopted by D'Urfé, and by Tasso in his Aminta, where Sylvia having pretended to cure Phyllis, whom a bee had stung, by kissing her, Aminta perceiving this, feigns that he too had been stung, in order that Sylvia, pitying his pain, might apply a similar remedy.' See 1 Also from Plato, Longus, Synesias, Nonnus, and others. Passow in Ersch and Gruber's Encyclopædia, sub voce Achilles Tatius. "I made pretence, 2 As if the bee had bitten my under lip; That the sweet medicine which I dared not ask Among these devices may be mentioned the petition of Melite to Leucippe, whom she believes to be a Thessalian, to procure her herbs for a potion that may gain her the affections of Clitophon. The sacrifice, too, of Leucippe by the robbers in the presence of her lover, is happily imagined, were not the solution of the enigma so wretched. As the work advances, however, it must be confessed, that it gradually decreases in interest, and that these agreeable incidents are more thinly scattered. Towards the conclusion it becomes insufferably tiresome, and the author scruples not to violate all verisimilitude in the events related. Indeed, through the whole romance, want of probability seems the great defect. Nothing can be more absurd or unnatural than the false uterus-nothing can be worse imagined than the vindication of the heroine in the cave of Diana, which is the final solution of the romance. When it is necessary for the story that Thersander should be in With word of mouth, I asked for with my looks. Offered to give her help To that pretended wound; And oh the real and the mortal wound, Which pierced into my being, When her lips came on mine Never did bee from flower Suck sugar so divine, As was the honey that I gathered then From those twin roses fresh. I could have bathed them in my burning kisses, But fear and shame withheld That too audacious fire, And made them gently hang. But while into my bosom's core, the sweetness, Mixed with a secret poison, did go down, It pierced me so with pleasure, that still feigning The pain of the bee's weapon, I contrived That more than once the enchantment was repeated." Cf. too Sir John Suckling's "Her lips were red and one was thin, Compared to that was next her chin, Some bee had stung it newly." formed who Leucippe is, the author makes him overhear a soliloquy, in which she reports to herself a full account of her genealogy, and an abridgement of her whole adventures. A soliloquy can never be properly introduced, unless the speaker is under the influence of some strong passion, or reasons on some important subject; but as Heliodorus borrowed from Sophocles, so Tatius is said to to haye imitated Euripides. From him he may have taken this unnatural species of soliloquy, as this impropriety exists in almost all the introductions to the tragedies of that poet. Tatius has been much blamed for the immorality of his romance, and it must be acknowledged that there are particular passages which are extremely exceptionable; yet, however odious some of these may be considered, the general moral tendency of the story is good;—a remark which may be extended to all the Greek romances. Tatius punishes his hero and heroine for eloping from their father's house, and afterwards rewards them for their long fidelity.1 ; 1 Though in the Greek romances the surface may be often impure, remarks M. Chassang (Hist. du Rom. p. 424), the substance is nearly always moral. The imaginations of the writers are indeed generally libertine, their pictures sensual, and their language broad. But we know enough of antiquity to allow for an outrightness in expression, which modern diction does not emulate, and to recognize happily many differences between Greek and modern French manners. Again, in these compositions the authors do not dilate much on duty and virtue, nor fill pages with elaborate sentimental disquisition; the senses are given a prominence which shocks our modern delicacy; but in the long run their heroes will compare well with too many others, in the struggle to subdue their passions, in their vigilance against surprises by the senses, and in their triumph over abundant seductions. If they give way to amorous delights, it is from impulse, from weakness, never on system; they break through the maxims of conduct, they do not seek rebellious abolishment of them. They contain no such types as Lovelace or Saint Preux. The literary art was not yet far enough advanced to substitute the display of fine sentiments for the fulfilment of duty; and while the heroes of modern novels, elevating love into a virtue, often do not recoil from adultery, those of Greek romances always remain virgin and pure amidst a host of perils, and despite the obstacles which oppose their union. One cannot but acknowledge, however, that the continence of the heroes of the Greek romancists strikes a singular contrast with their voluptuous proclivities. However moral their example, its effect is destroyed by the nudity, so to speak, of particular situations. It is |