LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 1 
 
 I SAN DIEQO I
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 MADEMOISELLE DIONIS DUSEJOUR.
 
 Of the present volume there have been printed for the United States : 
 
 50 Copies, with two sets of the Plates (m black and sanguine) on Japanese paper, and 
 numbered i to so 
 
 300 Copies, with a single set of the Plates, on hand-made paper, and numbered i to 300 
 
 No.
 
 THE 
 
 Origin of the Graces 
 
 BY 
 
 MADEMOISELLE DIONIS DUSEJOUR. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH THE ORIGINAL COPPERPLATE ENGRAVINGS 
 AFTER THE DESIGNS OF C. N. COCHIN. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 VIZETELLY &- CO., i6 HENRIETTA STREET, 
 
 CO VENT GARDEN.
 
 CHARLES NICHOLAS COCHIN. 
 
 Nothing appears to be known of Mademoiselle Dionis Dus^jour, 
 the author of TJic Orr'oift of the Graces^ but the designer of the 
 engravings, to which this clever little imitation of the Greek 
 pastorals owes much of its interest, was one of the most pro- 
 minent French artists of the iSth century, and his name is 
 associated with many of the elegantly illustrated works issued 
 in France during the half century preceding the Revolution. 
 Charles Nicholas Cochin, born in Paris in 1715, was the son of 
 an engraver, and the grandson of a painter of the same name ; 
 his mother also was an artist of talent. Cochin, who inherited 
 the artistic proclivities of the family, received instruction in 
 drawing from Jean Restout, and in engraving from that eminent 
 master Le Bas. He proved a most precocious pupil. A com- 
 position is extant which he is said to have engraved at the age 
 of twelve, and at sixteen he passed for a verj- promising draughts- 
 man. His first work of any importance, a series of compositions, 
 designed and engraved by himself, typifying various trades of 
 Paris, was only produced, however, when he was three and twenty. 
 Three years later, in 1740, his designs for an edition of Boileau's 
 works brought him into prominence ; and his reputation was 
 further increased by his illustrations to Virgil issued in 1742. 
 Soon afterwards he designed a series of small headings for an 
 edition of La Fontaine's Talcs, which, unfortunately, were very 
 badly engraved. According to Baron Portalis, the original draw- 
 ings, which still exist, are extremely graceful and far superior to 
 the engravings made from them.* 
 
 * Les De$sinateurs d'lUnsiraticns, &c., Pari'5, 1877.
 
 CHARLES NICHOLAS COCHIN. 
 
 Cochin had inherited a competency from his family and was 
 received in good society. Madame de Pompadour took him into 
 favour and obtained for him the post of draughtsman of the 
 royal " Mdnus-Plaisirs," the duties of which office consisted in 
 depicting the various festivities and ceremonies of the court. 
 Cochin, in this capacity, made numerous drawings of royal and 
 princely marriages, receptions, balls, ballets, promenades, and 
 funerals, and nearly the whole of these drawings were engraved 
 on copper, either by himself or others. Most of these engravings 
 are nowadays extremely rare, and command remarkably high 
 prices. The talent which Cochin displayed as a delineator of 
 court life led Louis XV. to grant him a patent of nobility, and to 
 create him a knight of the royal order of St Michael. Madame 
 de Pompadour, moreover, selected him to accompany her young 
 brother, M. de Vandicres, on a journey to Italy in the capacity 
 of artistic mentor and cicerone ; and subsequently, when she was 
 seized with a desire to practise art herself, she appointed him her 
 professor of engraving. Another of the royal favourite's brothers, 
 the well-known Marquis de Marigny, who was the official superin- 
 tendent of fine arts, made Cochin his everyday companion, and 
 always consulted him on matters of the least importance. More- 
 over, Diderot, who called him " the first draughtsman of France," 
 invariably sought his advice before penning his curious critiques 
 on the Salon. 
 
 Cochin had been unanimously elected a member of the Academy 
 of Painting in 175 1, and he drew and engraved the portraits of 
 most of his colleagues. Indeed we should be unfamiliar with the 
 personal appearance, not only of the leading artists, but also of 
 many of the most distinguished noblemen and wits of the iSth 
 century, if Cochin had not limned their features. This he 
 frequently did out of friendship and not by way of gain ; and it
 
 CHARLES NICHOLAS COCHIN. 
 
 was in this way also that he — an assiduous frequenter of the 
 lady's salon— Ax^\s and engraved the portraits of Madame du 
 Detfand's favourite Angora cats. 
 
 Meanwhile, in his professional capacity, Cochin designed some 
 vignettes for an edition of the younger Crebillon's tales and a 
 series of headings for the poems of Madame Deshoulieres. He 
 next prepared the illustrations for an edition of La Fontaine's 
 Fables projected by M. de Montenault. This was the so-called 
 Oudry edition, published in 1755, which enjoys so high a reputa- 
 tion amongst connoisseurs. Oudry had died leaving a number 
 of loose sketches, some of which were touched up, improved, and 
 finished by Cochin, whilst the remainder were completely redrawn 
 by him, so that although the original conception of the designs 
 may be ascribed to Oudry, they were, in point of execution, 
 almost entirely Cochin's work. 
 
 Two years later, in 1757, Cochin furnished six designs for the 
 well-known edition of Boccaccio's Decameron^ which was mainly 
 illustrated by Gravelot, and to which Boucher and Eisen also 
 contributed a few compositions. In 1758 he illustrated an 
 edition of Piron's works, and about 1760 he began to engrave 
 a series of views of the ports of France, after the paintings 
 of Joseph Vernet, He supplied six illustrations for Ariosto's 
 Orlando Furioso issued by Molini at Birmingham in 1773 ; and 
 three years afterwards he made designs for the engravings to 
 French editions of the Iliad and Fenelon's Tclemaque. It was 
 in 1777, when Cochin had passed his sixtieth year, that he 
 executed the compositions which illustrate the present volume, 
 and which have always ranked among his best works. 
 
 It may be added that Cochin was engaged for several years 
 upon a series of portraits for Hdnault's History of France, and 
 that he made designs for Rollin's History of Rome, as well as
 
 CHARLES NICHOLAS COCHIN. 
 
 for an elaborate edition of Molicre's plays, which, however, was 
 never completed, owing to the death of the publisher. About 
 1783 he produced a large number of drawings to illustrate 
 Rousseau's works, but these proved inferior to the well-known 
 designs by Moreau, who entered more fully into the spirit of the 
 text. The last work of importance in which Cochin engaged was 
 the illustration of Tasso's yernsaleiii Delivered ; in this he dis- 
 played all his customary talent, though at that time (1785) he was 
 seventy years of age. He lived five years longer, and may be said 
 to have worked until the last. His death took place on April 29, 
 1790, when the Revolution was virtually effected. The monarchy, 
 of which he had ever been an ardent supporter, was tottering 
 to its fall. Versailles was no longer the scene of the gay and 
 magnificent court, the fetes and ceremonies of which he had so 
 often depicted, most of his old friends were dead, and he himself 
 was in somewhat needy circumstances, due not only to the loss 
 of the pensions he had long enjoyed but also to the hearty 
 generosity with which, during a long and most industrious life, 
 he had constantly befriended less successful fellow-artists. 
 
 LIST OF PLATES. 
 
 Charis inspired by Apollo and the Muses, Frontispiece 
 
 Charis and Venus in the Grotto, . . Canto i. 
 
 The ceremony at Coresia's tomb, . . ii. 
 
 Charis greeted by Venus and the Graces . iii. 
 
 The Festival of Bacchus, .... iv. 
 
 Venus lamenting the loss of Charis, . . v.
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 -«^>0-0-0-J©'^0-0-0-^>*- 
 
 RANT me your inspiration, ye Graces, while 
 I sing of your origin. Do thou, O gentle 
 Euphrosyne, deign to shed over my song 
 thy sweet subtle influence; and thou, win- 
 some Thalia, lend me thy lyre ; and thou, 
 O timid Aglaia, cast over my eyes a veil, through the meshes 
 of whose divine gauze I may fathom the amorous mysteries 
 which preceded your birth. 
 
 Without your aid, who indeed would dare attempt 
 to describe the charms of the all-beauteous Venus as she 
 broke upon the enraptured gaze of the enchanted Charis? 
 It was while her festival was being celebrated in Cythera. 
 Three days had she been' delighting in the adoration of the 
 worshippers in her temple, and now she was ascending back 
 into the heavens, throned in a car of pearly nacre, drawn by 
 two swans whose plumage dazzled with its snowy whiteness, 
 and whose sinuous necks were circled by the azure ribbon
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 with whicli their mistress directed tlieir course. Suddenly 
 the Goddess was rapt in deep abstraction as she began to 
 recall the sweet joys she had tasted in her isle of Cythera ; 
 the ribbon drooped slackly from her hands, and the swans, no 
 longer feeling her guiding-touch, swerved from their wonted 
 course. Ceasing to soar aloft towards bright Olympus, they 
 amused themselves by skimming along through mid-air ; and 
 then, sweeping rapidly downwards, they drew tlie car towards 
 earth. 
 
 In the island of Nicrea there lies a secluded valley. On 
 one side it is shut in by a wood consecrated to the Muses, 
 and on the other, which lies towards the sunset, rise up 
 fertile slopes, glowing with the rich gifts of Bacchus and 
 Ceres. 
 
 At the foot of these slopes is a deep grotto, the entrance 
 of which seems to smile behind a network of green vine- 
 branches, round which sweet roses and honey-suckle cling 
 amorously. 
 
 From out a rock hard by springs a stream of crystal water, 
 which hurries along, bubbling and gurgling as it speeds its 
 way over the big stones that lie in its course, till it falls, foam- 
 ing and plashing, into a reed-fringed basin, from whence it 
 again issues in several small streamlets to irrigate the flower- 
 enamelled turf. 
 
 It was to this beauteous valley that the immortal swans 
 guided the car of the Queen of Cythera. As she awoke 
 from her revery, she gazed with admiration at the fair scene 
 which her own presence rendered still fairer.
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 The fiery Sun-God was just finishing his course, and his 
 sinking rays were gilding the tops of the hills. The trees 
 were musical with the sweet concert of the congregated birds ; 
 the echoes of the valley repeated the gentle plashings of the 
 stream ; a soft breeze spread a delicious coolness through the 
 air as it sported amidst the foliage ; while the flowers filled it 
 with fragrant perfume. 
 
 Venus alighted from her car, and stepped towards the pool, 
 the pure crystal of which reflected back her fair form. So 
 great is the charm of beauty that the Goddess stood gazing in 
 admiration of her own loveliness. Then the limpid purity of 
 the water made her long to bathe in it, and she unfastened her 
 purple zone, that mystic tissue which inspires a love which 
 none can resist, and allowed her robe of airy gauze, that had 
 hitherto concealed a great part of her charms, to fall. Then, 
 gathering up the golden hair which poured over her bosom in 
 a thousand rippling curls, she fastened it together with rushes ; 
 and, giving her swans their liberty, slipped off her shoes that 
 glowed and glistened with many-coloured gems, and stepped 
 into the pool. 
 
 At first the water only reached as high as the Goddess's 
 knees. Then it gradually mounted up to her bosom, and 
 covered the beauties of her person, though without concealing 
 them. The swans, which had followed her into the pool, 
 surrounded her with a thousand rippling circles ; and, as they 
 alternately plunged beneath the surface of the water and then 
 rose flying into the air, their wings rained a shower of spray 
 over the bosom of the Goddess, who returned the attack by
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 tossing them a handful of grass which she had plucked from 
 the sides of the pool. Then the birds floated up close 
 to her and swam majestically around her. As the Goddess's 
 hands caressed their sheeny plumage, the melodious strains 
 of Misira, the loveliest of the swans, thrilled her heart with a 
 paroxysm of sweet pain, and she clasped the bird in her arms, 
 while the loving creature answered her caresses by flapping 
 its snowy wings. Its sinuous neck was wreathed round that 
 of Venus, and its half-opened beak was drinking in the sweet 
 ambrosia that her scented lips exhaled, when a strain more 
 melodious even than the musical notes of the bird broke 
 upon the Goddess's ears. It moved her deeply, and she 
 ceased to sport with her swans, and hastened to hide herself 
 amongst the reeds. Several times, however, she emerged 
 from her lurking-place to try to discover from whence the 
 sweet voice she heard proceeded. As she cast her eyes 
 towards the grotto, she caught sight of a shepherd at the 
 entrance of it, accompanying himself on a lyre. Believing it 
 to be Apollo, and imagining that he had thus disguised him- 
 self with the intention of taking her by surprise, she plunged 
 back into the water in great trepidation. The noise of the 
 water, which splashed up in every direction, caused the Shep- 
 herd to break off his song. He hung his lyre upon a tree, 
 and approached the pool. Venus, who had now rendered 
 herself invisible, recognised by his brown locks that he was not 
 Apollo. Then her thoughts recurred to Adonis, whom the 
 shepherd resembled not only in feature, but also in dress, for 
 he wore a mantle of tiger-skin fastened with a blue ribbon,
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 the favourite colour of the Goddess of Love, and adopted by 
 Adonis in order to please her. She sighed at the recollection, 
 and, as she gazed yearningly at one who so resembled the 
 lover she had lost, it was modesty alone that caused her to 
 refrain from rendering herself visible to his eyes. Presently 
 the shepherd returned to the grotto, and, taking down his lyre 
 again, resumed his song. 
 
 Venus remained motionless, overcome with admiration and 
 delight. Lying at her ease on a bed of reeds, her ears drank 
 in the shepherd's strains, while her swans veiled her beauties 
 with their caressing pinions. 
 
 The shepherd was singing of the loves of Diana and En- 
 dymion. " Ah ! how happy was thy lot," he chanted, " O 
 Endymion, the fairest of all the company of shepherds ! how 
 greatly to be envied of all men ! Beloved of a Goddess wert 
 thou, and thou avcngedst thyself on Love by triumphing over 
 the heart of Diana. I hail thee, cold Goddess, who becamest 
 the tenderest of lovers, when, as thou wert proudly traversing 
 the firmament of heaven in thy silvery car, gliding on through 
 the midst of the multitudinous sheen of the stars, thine eyes 
 lighted on the plains of Caria. The flocks which had lain 
 sheltered in the shade during the heat of the day were then 
 sporting over the flower-embroidered turf The shepherds, 
 lying at the feet of their mistresses, made the echoes musical 
 with a thousand songs of love. Endymion, Endymion alone 
 lay slumbering apart, tasting the reposeful ease of cold 
 indifference. Then thine eyes, O Goddess, fell upon him, 
 and his beauty touched thy heart. Soon, soon he knew the
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 happiness that had befallen him, and night after night the 
 radiant Diana, forgetting her cold and pride, left her place in 
 heaven and came down to breathe her love in the ears of the 
 shepherd, and to taste the delights and joys of passion in his 
 sweet embrace." 
 
 So sang the shepherd. But now deepening shades were 
 beginning to fall from the wings of night, and he was 
 preparing to depart, when Venus, fearful of losing him, 
 emerged from the midst of the reeds. Hastily she drew on 
 her robe, and hurriedly fastened her girdle, and leaving her 
 sandals lying upon the turf stepped forth to confront the 
 shepherd. 
 
 The apparition of the Goddess thrilled him with an awe 
 that was mingled with trouble. Thrice he opened his lips to 
 speak, but words failed him. He felt that it was no mortal 
 who stood before him, but her rush-bound hair made him 
 doubt whether he was looking upon a deity of earth or 
 heaven. Venus stood enjoying his embarrassment. "O 
 thou," at length broke forth the shepherd, " O thou before 
 whose beauty the fairest charms in the universe would seem 
 poor and mean, deign to tell me by what miracle thou 
 appearest before my enchanted eyes." 
 
 "Shepherd," replied Venus, "I have listened to thy strains, 
 which have so delighted me that I purpose spending the night 
 in this grotto that I may hear more of thy singing. Follow 
 me fearlessly, for thou hast charmed the Goddess of Love." 
 As she thus spoke, she entered the grotto, which her presence 
 lighted up with a soft glow.
 
 IHE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 Tlie shepherd told her that he had clioseii this retreat to 
 invoke Apollo and the Muses ; then he pointed out to her a 
 soft couch of moss, upon which the all-beautiful Goddess 
 deigned to recline. Having accorded permission to the 
 shepherd to seat himself near her, she bade him tell her his 
 name and the story of his life. 
 
 " Mighty Goddess," ejaculated the shepherd, " how can 
 one think of aught but thee when thou art by ? To speak to 
 thee of myself seems beyond mortal power, yet will I do my 
 best to obey thee. 
 
 " I was born far away from this island. My father, who 
 was passionately fond of hunting, happened by mischance to 
 slay a stag into which Apollo had transformed himself, after 
 which unhappy accident he became the prey of such a con- 
 suming languor as would certainly have speedily brought him 
 to the grave if my mother, who was devoted to him, had not 
 consulted the oracle. The God replied that if she would 
 save her husband she must expose the child shortly to be 
 born to her in a certain forest, the name of which he men- 
 tioned. My mother, who was very young, and who ardently 
 yearned for a pledge of her spouse's love, was filled with grief 
 at this reply. She did not dare to make it known to her 
 husband, and many a day the sun sank to rest without her 
 having touched food, and slumber refused to grant her its 
 balm. Broken down with grief, she at last dragged herself to 
 a wood, that was sacred to the Muses, for the purpose of 
 coming to a final resolution on the matter that was agonising 
 her. Scarcely had she arrived there, when she fell on to the
 
 THE ORICrIX OF THE GRACES. 
 
 ground in a fainting fit, caused by sheer exhaustion. While 
 she lay thus, the figure of a Goddess appeared to her. Her 
 features were those of an elderly woman who had once been 
 very lovely, and she was arrayed in rich robes. 'Take 
 courage, Meroe,' she said to my mother, ' I am Mnemosyne, 
 the mother of the Muses. Thy grief has touched my heart. 
 Expose thy son without fear. I will take him under my 
 protection. He shall be reared and educated by my 
 daughters, and one day he shall become the favourite of 
 that God who now causes you such distress.' After speaking 
 these words she vanished, and, when my mother returned to 
 consciousness, her troubled mind was at ease again. She 
 went home to her husband, who quickly recovered his health 
 now that Meroe had resolved to expose me in the forest. 
 A few months later I was born, and my mother placed me in 
 a wicker basket. Then, telling my father that I had been 
 born dead, she carried me away to the wood. She laid me 
 down at the foot of an oak, and, after having pressed upon 
 me a thousand tearful kisses, she had just commenced to 
 leave me, in accordance with the command of the oracle, 
 when a sudden sound caused her to turn her head, and she 
 saw Mercury, the messenger of the Gods, carrying off the 
 basket. He tossed her a branch of laurel in token of the 
 pardon which Apollo had granted her. My mother, recog- 
 nising the effects of the protection which Mnemosyne had 
 promised her while she lay in her trance, erected a little 
 altar of moss, on which she sacrificed a young raven, and the 
 Muses have let me know that she has had several other 
 children who have made her old age happy.
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 " Mercury, O Goddess, bore me away to Mount Parnassus, 
 where the Muses received me with delight, and bestowed 
 upon me the name of Chans. I had scarcely begun to speak 
 when Erato and Calliope strove with each other for the 
 pleasure of instructing me. Melpomene, too, and Thalia 
 also took part in my education, and I had barely completed 
 my third lustrum when Apollo chose me to be the poet of 
 his temple in this island of Nic^ea, which is sacred to him. 
 The natives are gentle and peaceable folk, who spend their 
 time in hymning the Gods and cultivating the soil. I, like 
 my father, love the chase, and I live for the most part in the 
 forest, where I divide my time between my bow and my lyre. 
 I sing of love and beauty, but on the days when sacrifices 
 are ordained I repair to the temple to offer homage to the 
 God whom we worship. Then the mild-mannered inhabitants 
 of the island throng around me, for they delight in my strains, 
 and lavish a wealth of affection upon me when they meet me. 
 
 " Such, O mighty Goddess," concluded Charis, " is the 
 story of my life ; but it is now, more than ever before, that I 
 recognise the blessings of my lot since Venus deigns to 
 interest herself in me." 
 
 " Yes, Charis," replied the Goddess, " thy story has indeed 
 
 touched me ; but why hast thou told me nothing of thy loves ? 
 
 Art thou ignorant of all that I can do for thee in that respect? 
 
 Or is it, indeed, that thy heart is still untouched ? Ah, if that 
 
 were so, how happy mightest thou now be ! Endymion was a 
 
 shepherd like thee ; he was not indeed so lovable as thou art, 
 
 but yet he won the heart of an immortal Goddess." 
 
 c
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 Venus could say no more. She drooped her eyes, and her 
 divine cheeks blushed with the loveliest crimson. The 
 shepherd had already fallen on his knees before her, when 
 Cupid, who was looking for his mother, darted into the 
 grotto, holding Peristera* in his hand. Behind him came 
 Gaiety with her sweetly smiling face, and Pleasure with 
 voluptuously languid expression. The giddy troop of the 
 sprites of Laughter and Mirth were close by, but they did 
 not dare to enter the cave. 
 
 " Mother," cried Cupid, as he kissed Venus, " I have been 
 seeking for you all over Jupiter's palace. I have been back 
 to Cythera to look for you, and I was just soaring up sadly 
 to the heavens again, disconsolate at not being able to find 
 you, when I happened to cast my eyes over this valley, and 
 caught sight of your swans sporting in the pool. I quickly 
 fiew back to the earth, and, seating myself on Misira's back, 
 I bade him bring me to you. He immediately conducted 
 me to this grotto." 
 
 " My son," replied Venus, as she fondled him on her lap, 
 "your eagerness to find me is very pleasing to me. Now 
 order your attendants to prepare a meal, for I wish to remain 
 here. This shepherd has more attractions for me than all 
 the grandeurs of Olympus." 
 
 As soon as she finished speaking, Cupid flew off to carry 
 out her orders, whilst Gaiety and Pleasure remained by 
 her. 
 
 Then Charis, accompanying his sweetly musical voice with 
 * Peristera, Vcnus's dove.
 
 THE ORiaiX OF THE GRACES. 
 
 his lyre, proceeded to sing the charms of the Goddess of 
 Cythera. 
 
 " Oh ! who, great Queen of Love, could describe the sweet 
 beauty of thy smile, or the voluptuous fire of thy glance, that 
 is at once so softly languishing and so sparkling with life ! 
 Who could express the snowy whiteness of thy flesh, the 
 roseate blush of thy cheeks, and the transcendent symmetry 
 of thy divine figure ! Thine eyes have the fire of rubies ; 
 thy hair has a more lustrous sheen than have the locks of 
 Hebe herself; thy hands seem as though they were wrought 
 out of ivory by Cupid's self, and thy feet are small as his 
 own. Never, O Queen of Beauty, shall I cease to sing thy 
 charms, but alas ! my song will ever fall far below them. Yet 
 I can at least ever worship them, and my love shall equal 
 them, if not my praises." 
 
 The son of Venus now returned into the grotto, bearing 
 with him the fruits he had just gathered. The sprites of 
 Mirth and Laughter drew near to wait upon their Queen. 
 Some of them laid a cloth of filmy gauze upon the turf, while 
 others arranged the fruit on large leaves. Cupid himself 
 returned to the spring, and brought back a supply of the 
 crystal water in capacious shells. Venus, delighted at the 
 simplicity of the feast, herself selected the fairest of the fruit 
 and offered them to her shepherd. Gaiety proffered them 
 cooling draughts, while the sprites of Mirth and Laughter 
 afforded them amusement by their infantine rivalries, for all 
 were anxious to render service to their Queen. 
 
 Cupid, jealous of their display of eagerness, ordered them
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 to cease tlieir ministrations, and took upon liimself the task 
 of waiting upon his mother. The sprites of Mirth and 
 Laughter avenged themselves by mischievously spilling a 
 shell of water over his glistening wings. This irritated him, 
 and Venus scolded him. Angered the more, Cupid now 
 muttered below his breath that he would have his revenge. 
 
 AVhen the meal was over, Venus carelessly reclined herself 
 upon the mossy couch. Gaiety fettered her with the garlands 
 of flowers which Peristera had brought in its beak, whilst 
 Pleasure spread her hair over her bosom. Charis, the happy 
 Charis, gazed rapturously at the enchanting vision, and 
 Cupid, vexed with his mother, lurked in a corner of the 
 grotto, planning schemes of vengeance. 
 
 He seized the moment when Venus was casting tender 
 glances at Charis, and, fitting his sharpest arrow to his bow, 
 he discharged it at the shepherd. Gaiety immediately tossed 
 over them Pleasure's veil, while the sprites ran off with Cupid, 
 who chuckled over the vengeance he had taken.
 
 It I A- Sculp l-j6
 
 II. 
 
 N vain had the creeping ivy and jasmine, 
 which interlaced their branches across the 
 entrance of the grotto, hidden from the 
 
 yM^ peeping stars the frailty of the Queen of 
 c^g^<;0^^^^ Cythera ; in vain had Pleasure covered 
 her with her veil ; for the rays of the dawning day are 
 piercing the network of the branches, and will presently 
 discover to Phoebus the blissful fortune of Charis. 
 
 Peacefully slumbering in the arms of his divine mistress, 
 the shepherd lay inhaling the ambrosia which breathed 
 from her coral lips, when the watchful Peristera woke the 
 pair by flapping her wings. 
 
 "The day is dawning," Venus exclaimed, "Phoebus is 
 inquisitive and given to gossiping; let us keep our love a 
 secret from his prying curiosity." 
 
 Charis then proposed that she should go and witness the 
 festival of Coresia, which was about to be celebrated in the 
 sacred wood. He took up his lyre, and, followed by the 
 faithful dove, the pair left the grotto, the Goddess leaning 
 on the shepherd's arm.
 
 THE 0RIGI>7 OF THE GRACES. 
 
 As they crossed the grassy floor, whereon flowers seemed to 
 spring up at the touch of Venus's feet, Charis told the Queen 
 of Love the history of the origin of the festival of Coresia. 
 
 " There formerly dwelt," he said, " in the island of Nicsea, 
 a maiden named Coresia. She was dowered with the gift of 
 perfect beauty, but her heart was utterly indifferent to the 
 influence of love. The favourite of the Muses, she imitated 
 their chastity. Spending all her time in solitude in the 
 depths of the forest, she devoted her whole mind to poetry, 
 tracing her verses upon the sandy ground, and scratching 
 them on tlie bark of the trees. Liberty was the subject 
 of all her singing. It was all in vain that the fondest 
 shepherd swains tried to soften her cold rigidity. She fled 
 from them in utmost haste, scaling the steepest rocks, and 
 swimming across pools to elude the pursuit of those who 
 would have proffered her their love. 
 
 " One day, however, as she lay asleep beneath a clump of 
 willows, the young Evander took her by surprise, and forced 
 her to yield to his wishes. Coresia, in the bitterness of her 
 grief, pierced the rash youth's heart with a dagger which she 
 carried in her girdle, and then slew herself, having first 
 scratched the story of her woe upon a stone. The Muses 
 bewailed her, and themselves built her a tomb in the wodd, 
 but the body of Evander they cast into the sea. From time 
 to time, ever since^ many beautiful girls, following Coresia's 
 example, have consecrated themselves to the Muses. Once 
 every spring all the virgins of the island assemble around her 
 tomb to do honour to her memory. A bird, sent by the
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 23 
 
 Muses, hangs a crown of ivy on an ancient oak ; and after 
 the memorial hymns have been chanted, the young maiden 
 who most yearns to resemble Coresia receives the crown from 
 the bird. Then she pledges herself by oath to live indifferent 
 to love, and, plunging into the depths of the forest, is seen no 
 more amongst her comrades." 
 
 Charis had already advanced far into the forest before 
 he brought his narration to a close. Venus, for whom 
 the sound of his voice had a lasting charm, now asked him 
 if the characters which she observed cut on the bark of the 
 trees and on several little altars of stone were the work of 
 Coresia. 
 
 " There are several poets," replied the shepherd, " who 
 have thus inscribed their hymns in honour of the Muses. 
 Amongst these altars there is one here, O Goddess, which I 
 myself have raised to Apollo. On it you will see recorded 
 the amours of the God with Daphne, and the transformation 
 of the nymph into a laurel." 
 
 " Ah, I know the story," returned the all-beautiful Venus, 
 " but I should greatly like to hear it breathed forth on your 
 lyre, the notes of which, my Charis, seem sweeter to me than 
 even those of Apollo's. Let us rest for a while on this bed of 
 fern. We have time enough to spare, since the festival does 
 not commence till sun-down." 
 
 As she spoke, she unslung the Shepherd's lyre, and Charis 
 commenced to sing in such a sweet melodious strain that 
 the very streams hushed their murmurs, and the birds their 
 warbling.
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 As his song proceeded, he thrilled the heart of Venus with 
 both the love-fever of Apollo and the alarm of Daphne. She 
 fancied she could see the nymph flying before the pursuit of 
 the God who adored her. She could see her fair locks float- 
 ing loose in the wind, for in the maiden's hurried flight the 
 ribbon which restrained them had fallen away. Then she 
 saw the God stretching out his hand to seize the robe of the 
 flying nymph, which, disarranged by her precipitate retreat, 
 already allowed no small portion of her charms to appear in 
 sight. Now the Goddess beUeves she can hear the prayers 
 which the nymph addresses to her father, and her sighs at 
 being so speedily heard. She sees Daphne's arms, as she 
 strains them heavenwards, changing into branches, and her 
 fingers into leaves, and finally she can feel her heart throbbing 
 beneath the bark which covers it, and she sees Apollo clasping 
 in his embrace the melancholy tree which bars his mistress 
 from him. 
 
 " Cease, cease, my Charis !" cried the spell-bound Venus ; 
 " thy verses are too touching, thy lyre is too affectingly 
 melodious. Who, indeed, could hope to withstand its volup- 
 tuous charm, since even a Goddess yields to the sweet in- 
 toxication with which thy accents thrill her senses? Sweet 
 shepherd, thou alone art worthy to sing the tender stories 
 of love, and thou alone shalt enchant with thy magic spell the 
 Queen of Love herself." 
 
 Charis heard Venus's praises with a transport of pleasure. 
 The Goddess accompanied them with a thousand fond 
 caresses, which the shepherd delightedly returned. The full
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 liglit of day, liowcvcr, now causing tlie shepherd to put 
 bounds to his desires, he conducted his beloved Goddess by 
 a shady path to a hill on which they found a rustic temple. 
 On entering it, Venus was pleasantly surprised at the sight of 
 three statues carved out of the purest white marble. They 
 represented three maidens, whose forms were bare, and who 
 were linking themselves together with garlands of flowers. 
 
 The first one was looking at the others with such an inde- 
 scribable glance of seductive tenderness that Venus was at 
 first inclined to believe that she represented Pleasure. Her 
 head was drooping languidly, and the damsel seemed to be 
 voluptuously inhaling the perfume of the garland which she 
 held raised in one hand, while with the other she linked her 
 companions to herself. 
 
 Venus, silent with admiration, believed that nothing could 
 be more beautiful than this statue ; but presently turning her 
 eyes to the second one she recognized something that was 
 possibly even still lovelier. Mirth sparkled in its eyes, a 
 charming smile half-opened its lips, and a thrill of voluptuous 
 pleasure gave a throbbing life to its beautiful breast, which 
 seemed to be actually heaving before the Goddess's eyes, 
 with such wondrous skill had the sculptor imitated nature. 
 
 Venus now stood undecided as to which of the two statues 
 she should award the meed of superiority ; but, turning to 
 look at the third one, she was filled with yet greater admiring 
 astonishment. 
 
 The third statue had the child-like features and figure of a 
 shepherdess maiden that had scarcely completed her third
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 lustrum. Her eyes were turned to the ground, and she 
 seemed to be striving to conceal with her garland the budding 
 charms of her bosom, while her expression told of her embar- 
 rassment at thus beholding herself quite naked. 
 
 The Queen of Cythcra, having examined each statue separ- 
 ately, and looked at the whole group together, found them 
 even more charming than before. She could not tear her eyes 
 away from a sight that was at once so lovely and so original. 
 Three separate times she touched the smooth marble with her 
 divine hands to assure herself that the fair stone did not 
 actually breathe with life ; but the coldness of the marble 
 proved to her that the figures were but figures. As she 
 stepped away from them, she again began to feel doubtful as 
 to whether they could really be only lifeless marble. The 
 shepherd observed her embarrassment with considerable 
 amusement 
 
 " Tell me," she cried to him at last, " by what wondrous 
 art has it been possible to produce these three statues so 
 charming in their different natures ; and who are the mortal 
 damsels who have served as models for them, for we have no 
 Goddesses as fair as they, and my girdle even cannot confer 
 such sweet chamis." 
 
 " Goddess, I alone am the inventor and designer of these 
 statues ; my imagination has revealed them to me such as 
 thou now beholdest them. I have described their charms in 
 my songs, and a skilful sculptor, seizing my ideas, has 
 succeeded in rendering them visible." 
 
 "O mortal highly favoured by the Gods," replied Venus,
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 "thou then art their parent. It causes me, indeed, no 
 surprise, since I have heard the melody of thy strains. But 
 can it be possible that the Nicaeans have so little idea of the 
 worth of these prodigies that they allow such wondrous works 
 to lie hidden in a wood?" 
 
 " The Nicseans," answered Charis, " cherish these statues 
 greatly ; they even render them a sort of worship. It is on 
 this account that they have placed them in this temple, where 
 they are protected from the ravages of the weather. I have 
 bestowed upon them my own name, and have called them the 
 three Charities, or Graces. To distinguish them one from 
 another, the first is known as Euphrosyne, the second as 
 Thalia, and the third as Aglaia. Such, most beauteous 
 Venus, is the story of their origin. But the hour of the 
 celebration is now approaching; and, if thou desirest to 
 witness it, we must make our way down into the wood." 
 
 It was only with the greatest reluctance that Venus could 
 prevail upon herself to leave the temple of the Graces. She 
 felt that she could never look at them enough, and she 
 entertained an ardent desire to obtain power from Jupiter to 
 endow them with life, so that she might have them for 
 companions. Wishful, however, to keep this in reserve as 
 a pleasant suqjrise for Charis, she maintained silence as to 
 her design, and told him, as they descended the slope of 
 the hill, that a secret command would compel her to return 
 to Olympus after sunset. 
 
 On hearing this the shepherd suffered the keenest pangs 
 of grief. He tried to express his woe, but his lips were
 
 28 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 incapable of giving utterance to speech. He cast a despon- 
 dent gaze upon his beloved mistress, who, now that he was 
 about to lose her, seemed even still more beauteous than 
 before. Overcome with the extremity of his grief, he stayed 
 his steps, and, seizing her hand, he pressed it within his 
 own, and covered it with passionate kisses. Then he gave 
 a deep sigh, and seemed on the point of bursting into 
 tears. 
 
 "O sweet Queen of Love," at last he cried, "thou who 
 hast given me such delicious proof of the power of thy 
 ineffable charms, thou who hast deigned to indulge my love, 
 thou art then going to desert me ! O cruel Venus, since thou 
 mayest not remain on earth, why, oh why, didst thou ever 
 show thyself to me? Why hast thou broken in upon my 
 peaceful calm? Oh, what am I saying? Pardon me, I 
 pray thee ! What price, indeed, could be too great for the 
 delights which I have tasted with thee ? They will cost me 
 my life, indeed ; for I can never survive thy absence." 
 
 " Hush, hush ! " replied Venus ; " talk not like that, for 
 thy death would make my immortality hateful to me. But 
 indeed thou mistakest me, my Charis; I do not mean to 
 desert thee, I am only leaving thee for a season, that I 
 may obey orders which may not be disregarded ; and I 
 swear to thee by Love's own self that I will be back with 
 thee by the break of dawn." 
 
 Like a timid bird that has fled affrighted before a storm, 
 and has then regained the dripping branches to hail with its 
 warbling notes the return of sunshine and the soft zephyrs,
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 29 
 
 SO now was the loving shepherd reassured by the promise of 
 his divine mistress. Before leaving earth, however, Venus 
 desired to see the celebration in honour of Coresia. 
 
 The thousand mournful sounds that were echoed around 
 announced that it had already commenced. The Nic?ean 
 maidens, spreading themselves about the wood, were uttering 
 wailing cries, and testifying their grief by lugubrious chants in 
 honour of the dead Coresia. Some of them extolled her 
 beauty, and bewailed that so fair a maiden should have 
 perished in the flower of her youth. Others vowed to 
 imitate her in her cold indifference to love, even though 
 the crown were not awarded to them ; while others again, 
 animated by a celestial influence, the inspiration, doubtless, 
 of the Muses, launched a thousand imprecations against 
 the spirit of the unhappy Evander. Like so many raging 
 Bacchantes they tore their hair, and smote their breasts, 
 as they made the air resound with their cries of grief. 
 
 As the Queen of Love approached the tomb and saw the 
 crown of ivy already hanging upon the oak, she regretted the 
 heart which a cold indifference was to remove for ever from 
 her son's influence. 
 
 " If Cupid were here," she said to the shepherd, " I would 
 bid him wing an arrow at the heart of every maiden in 
 Nicoea." 
 
 Cupid, indeed, was not far off. He heard his mother's 
 words, and thinking the opportunity a favourable one for 
 making his peace again, he appeared in sight, crowned with 
 roses, and bearing a quiver charged with golden arrows.
 
 30 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 Venus had already forgotten her son's vengeance; she was 
 dehghtcd to see him again, and made both him and herself 
 invisible. 
 
 After seeing Venus disappear, and having breathed out 
 countless deep sighs at being severed from her, the favoured 
 poet of Apollo, the only one of his sex admitted to the 
 ceremony, directed his steps to a part of the forest where the 
 maidens of Niccca were waiting for him. There he received 
 from the hands of the youngest of them, named Cephissa, a 
 veil of black crape, whose long loose folds reached down to 
 his feet, and concealed him from the eyes of all. Then a 
 crown of cypress leaves was placed upon his head. Being 
 thus installed as the high-priest of the sacrifice, he headed 
 the procession, and as he advanced he was followed in silence 
 by the young virgins in two files, wearing veils of transparent 
 gauze. When they reached the tomb, they formed them- 
 selves into a semicircle about it; and Charis, standing in 
 the middle, having given the signal by stretching out his 
 right arm, each maiden let her veil fall. The veils, being 
 fastened at the shoulder, now formed a sort of mantle, and 
 served as a picturesque addition to the long purple robes in 
 which the damsels were clad. 
 
 What an array of loveliness now burst into the view of the 
 setting sun ! It seemed as though Phoebus were staying his 
 chariot to admire it through the labyrinth of trees. The 
 perfectly moulded figures of the virgins were decked with 
 garlands of ivy, whose dusky green lent an additional brilliance 
 to the dazzling whiteness of their bosoms ; and their luxuriant
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 sheeny locks were girt with sprays of cypress, which hung 
 down over their ivory shoulders. 
 
 From the cloud to which she had retired, Venus looked 
 down upon the spectacle. " Haste thee quickly, my son," 
 she exclaimed to Cupid, "and make these fair but cold 
 maidens thy victims." 
 
 Eager as his mother to see the hearts of these lovely damsels 
 sighing with love, Cupid grasped his bow ; and, while Charis 
 was pouring libations upon the tomb, he discharged his 
 arrows, the points of which had been dipped in the tears 
 of dreamy Languor and voluptuous Pleasure. The little 
 God is an unerring marksman, and not a heart escaped his 
 missiles. 
 
 As when tranquil waters, that mirror the cloudless azure 
 of the sky upon their serene bosom, are suddenly lashed by 
 a furious squall, a thousand silvery waves surge up and fall in 
 breaking spray, so now the beauteous maids of Nicgea, stricken 
 by the arrows of Cupid, no longer knew the quiet calm of 
 cold indifference, but suddenly became the prey of the secret 
 fires which had just pierced their souls. Amazed at the 
 change which had come over them, and speechless from sur- 
 prise, they knew not what they wished for, and feared to find 
 it out. That crown, which but a moment before they had so 
 eagerly yearned for, now only seemed to inspire them with a 
 mortal terror; and the thought of binding themselves to a 
 life of cold indifference to love was hideous to them. It was 
 as though some heaven-sent light had suddenly flared out, and 
 revealed to them the existence of an awful chasm, into which
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 they were on the point of casting themselves. But as each 
 one of the band of gentle maidens was ignorant of the fact 
 that her companions' hearts were throbbing with similar fires, 
 they all reproached themselves for the feelings that were 
 agitating them, and bent their sweet eyes to the ground lest 
 their sin should be read in them. Many there were, however, 
 who could not restrain their sighs, as they bethought them of 
 the gentle shepherds whose tender pleadings they had so 
 often rejected. 
 
 Amongst these latter was the young Cephissa, whose golden 
 locks, and snowy skin, and delicately tinted complexion had 
 attracted the especial attention of Venus. As the beautiful 
 maiden thought of the faithful Zamis, who had sworn to die 
 if she obtained the crown of Zamis, who had been her lover 
 ever since she was a child, she felt the tears rolling down 
 her cheeks. She might, perchance, have lent an ear to his 
 pleadings, if her mother had not extolled to her the greater 
 happiness of a life of indifference to love, and so induced her 
 to shun Zamis that she might follow the example of Coresia, 
 
 Acting either by the special command of Venus, or else for 
 the purpose of rewarding the faithful Zamis, Cupid seemed to 
 have stricken Cephissa more deeply than any of the other 
 maidens. Her painful commotion increased, and she could 
 scarcely prevent her trouble from becoming openly visible. 
 
 "What is it that I am doing?" she cried in her heart. 
 " My rash longing to obtain yonder crown is making me en- 
 danger the very life of the sweetest of all the company of the 
 shepherds. Ah ! Zamis, I feel now that I have always loved
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 thee without knowing it. My mother's counsels have made 
 me stifle the true promptings of my heart, and, alas ! how am 
 I now punished for so doing ! But, my sweet Zamis, thou 
 shalt not die alone ; thy heart-broken Cephissa will not sur- 
 vive thee. Oh, what is it that I am saying, miserable girl 
 that I am ! On whose image are all my thoughts now con- 
 centred? Surely I shall excite against me the wrath of the 
 deities to whom I have consecrated myself ! And yet, alas ! 
 what fate can they mete out to me that could be more cruel 
 than that which I am already suffering? Oh, pardon me, 
 shade of Coresia ! Be not angered at those sighs which I 
 never foresaw when I vowed to follow in thy steps. The 
 sacrifice of my life shall make atonement to thee. Ah, fear- 
 ful thought, perhaps even a more terrible one still is now pre- 
 paring ! At this very moment Zamis is expecting to die, and 
 it is I who will pronounce his sentence of death by a hateful 
 oath ! Zamis's father, that dear old man, will weep the loss 
 of his son, and it is I, wretched girl, who will be the cause of 
 it ! Oh, Zamis ! Zamis ! " 
 
 The grief which was now distracting Cephissa was so intense, 
 that she could not restrain herself from repeating her lover's 
 name aloud, and her next neighbour, a maiden named Zoe, 
 overheard her. 
 
 " What is it that thou art saying of Zamis ? " she asked 
 of Cephissa, 
 
 " That I adore him ! " 
 
 " And I," continued Zoe, " now feel as though I loved 
 Odalis, and the thought of obtaining the crown makes me
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 tremble. But, dear Cephissa, it is not yet too late ; let us 
 retire before we take the oath." 
 
 " I should dearly like to do so," answered Cephissa, " but 
 I fear that such an action would render me unworthy of the 
 virtuous Zamis, and so I prefer to die should the crown fall 
 to me." 
 
 Such was the grievous trouble that racked the hearts of the 
 two fond maidens. Charis had by this time completed the 
 ceremony of the libations, and now returned to the centre of 
 the circle. Again he stretched out his arm as a signal to the 
 virgins to recommence their chants in honour of a life of 
 cold indifference to love, but not a single one of the maidens 
 could force her lips to utter the words, and the hitherto frigid 
 Doha, whose duty it was to lead the chorus, remained mute 
 as the others. Charis was just beginning to suspect the 
 cause of this silence, when a sudden noise broke upon his 
 ears, and a throng of shepherds appeared in sight. Cupid 
 was leading them, in spite of the risk he ran of offending the 
 Muses in so doing. And who is there that would not obey 
 the commands of Love ? 
 
 Zamis, looking like Mars's self, when the War-God is 
 angered, was at their head; despair and hope alternately 
 dominating in his glance. At the sight of her lover, the 
 tender-hearted Cephissa trembled with alarm as she feared 
 lest the Muses might punish him for his temerity. 
 
 "What art thou doing?" she cried to him. "Oh, flee 
 away from these places which the Deity has hallowed ! I 
 tremble for thy life ! "
 
 TFIE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 Then slie fell into Zamis's arms. Already had the 
 shepherd read his happiness in the fainting glance of the 
 young maiden's eyes. He was just preparing to carry her 
 off, and all the other shepherds were urging the virgins they 
 loved to follow them, when the bird of the Muses appeared 
 on the summit of the oak, and thrilled the whole assembly 
 with a superstitious dread. The conscience-stricken damsels, 
 recognising their guilt, and fearing the vengeance of the 
 Muses, fell fainting at the feet of the shepherds, who had 
 stood motionless, by the command of Charis, at the appear- 
 ance of the bird. 
 
 Zamis laid the fainting Cephissa on Coresia's tomb ; and, 
 like an angry lion fearing for the safety of his young cubs, 
 stood keeping guard over her, resolved to defend her to his 
 last breath. 
 
 The sacred bird, after having flown several times round the 
 oak, now took the ivy-crown in its beak. Those of the 
 virgins who had recovered their senses were hoping that they 
 might no longer be worthy of it, and shivering with dread at 
 the thought of its being awarded to them, when the bird 
 suddenly soared up into the heavens and disappeared. 
 
 As a flock of fear-stricken sheep, who have scattered in 
 terror at the sight of a fierce wolf, troop together again under 
 the protection of their shepherd's crook, so now the young 
 virgins surrounded the divine poet and took counsel with 
 him as to what they should do to appease the anger of the 
 Muses. 
 
 Charis was reassuring them, and telling them that the
 
 36 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 Muses would pardon an involuntary sin, when a dove with a 
 plumage of dazzling whiteness appeared in the air, holding a 
 crown of roses in its beak. It was Peristera, who, carrying 
 out the commands of Venus, now placed on Cephissa's brow 
 the crown of Love. 
 
 Straightway the forest re-echoed with a thousand cries of 
 glad delight; and Charis having told the Nicsean maidens 
 that it was to Venus that they owed their happiness, they 
 vowed that in future the yearly celebration should be held in 
 honour of the Queen of Cythera, as a testimony of their 
 gratitude to her. Then they engraved the history of the 
 triumph of Cepliissa and Zamis on Coresia's tomb ; and the 
 happy lovers having sworn mutual fidelity in the presence of 
 Charis, the light-hearted throng wandered off in dificrent 
 directions through the wood to secluded glades and thickets, 
 where the dawn of day still found them. 
 
 Charis, left alone, saw Venus ascending into the heavens, 
 throned on a cloud, and accompanied by her son and her 
 dove. He strained out his arms towards her with a sigh. 
 The Goddess replied with a sweet smile, and then, tossing him 
 a feather from Cupid's wing, disappeared from his sight.
 
 /. J J/9.^K/cfr Sra^ i^.
 
 III. 
 
 ATURE had scarcely yet awakened to greet 
 the breaking dawn. Throned in her ruby 
 car, Aurora arose to put the timid Shadow- 
 sprites to flight, and pour her golden light 
 iriii^^^A'^^-feisSi Qnce again over the gladdened earth. The 
 little birds greeted the first rays with a sweet warbling from 
 beneath their mothers' wings, and the young fauns had 
 already set their snares for the fluttering songsters beneath 
 the concealing leaves. In just such a way does Love conceal 
 beneath flowers the snare in which he hopes to trap the 
 guileless shepherdess maiden. 
 
 Awaking from a delicious dream in which it had seemed 
 to him that he was again gazing upon the all-beauteous 
 Venus, Charis took his lyre, and, seating himself beneath a 
 young elm, thus gave utterance to the sweet pain that was 
 tormenting him. 
 
 "If separation so cruelly torture the heart which Love has 
 stricken, and which, while it dare not reveal the fires which 
 consume it, can only hope that they will also burn within the 
 absent one, how much more cruel is it to a lover who has
 
 38 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 read with certainty his happiness in the eyes of his adored 
 one ! The recollection of his past joys fills the cup of his 
 agony. Like a tender blossom bereft of the caresses of 
 Zephyrus, he languishes and fades away with withering 
 grief. Surely, alas ! the Gods will not readily let Venus 
 leave them again ; and will not some divine lover be pre- 
 ferred to me? I can scarce believe that a simple shepherd 
 swain should succeed in winning the constancy of the 
 sweetest of Heaven's Immortals. Oh ! the very thought 
 of losing her racks me with torture ! Aheady is Aurora 
 unfolding her gleaming pinions, and Venus comes not! O 
 my sweet Goddess, if thou delayest thy coming longer, I 
 shall surely die of my weary longing for thee ! " 
 
 Overcome by the deepest dejection, the shepherd let 
 his lyre fall from his hands. He sat rigid as a statue, 
 plunged in a profound reverie, from which he was aroused 
 by the noise made by a dove amongst the branches as she 
 strove to escape from a pursuing male-bird. Soon she 
 became the prize of her vanquisher, and her caresses and the 
 tremulous flutter of her wings showed that she pardoned him. 
 The sight interested Charis, but what was his delight on 
 recognizing Peristera, who, disengaging herself from the 
 tender gallantries of her still pursuing lover, invited the 
 shepherd to follow her by flitting towards the wood ! 
 
 The Queen of Cythera had obtained from Jupiter the power 
 to confer life upon the three statues in the temple of Nicsea. 
 Who, indeed, can refuse the petitions of Beauty ? The King 
 of the Gods, charmed by what Venus had told him, and
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 always desirous of pleasing her, had even promised more than 
 she had asked, and had told her that he would dower the 
 Graces with immortality, and that their influence should 
 breathe fresh beauties into the world of men and nature. 
 
 Venus, transported with delight, speedily returned to earth, 
 and before Charis commenced sighing forth his amorous 
 complaints she was already in the temple of the Graces, 
 attended by all her court. It was she who, in her anxiety to 
 see her lover again, and to enjoy his astonishment, had sent 
 Peristera to him. 
 
 As soon as Charis entered the wood, he was surprised at 
 the change which he noted in it j and which he attributed to 
 the influence of the Queen of Love. " What is there, indeed," 
 he exclaimed, "that she would not make the fairer? Every- 
 thing here testifies to the spell of her enchanting presence. 
 These once rough and tortuous paths, worn bare by the 
 pattering feet of scampering sheep, are now glowing with the 
 freshest turf; the branches form vaults of pleasant shade with 
 their amorous interlacings ; the foliage glistens with richer 
 tones ; the melody of the birds seems sweeter than before \ 
 and there is a new music in the gurgling of the streams. But 
 what fresh prodigy is this ? " continued Charis, as he caught 
 sight of a troop of young girls dancing on the turf to the 
 strains of some rustic instrument. " These simple shep- 
 herdesses whom I have seen a thousand times driving their 
 flocks into these woods seem to have acquired fresh charms. 
 Their features sparkle with an unwonted animation; their 
 figures are more graceful than they used to be ; their flower-
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 girded hair, their ribbons, the blossoms in their bosoms, 
 everything about them, indeed, seems to have acquired a new 
 character, and everything contributes to make them more 
 captivating than before. How admirably they keep time 
 with the music! What precision and lightness mark their 
 motions, and what a chain of ravishing beauty they form when 
 their shapely arms link them one to another ! " 
 
 Leaving the shepherdesses behind him, Charis saw that he 
 was now near the hill on which stood the temple of the 
 Graces, but it was all in vain that he looked about him for 
 the gloomy alley which led to it. It was transformed into an 
 arching grove of myrtles and jasmine, at the entrance to 
 which a pair of orange-trees formed a charming porch. The 
 beautiful dove, after a momentary rest upon their perfumed 
 branches, continued to flit onwards in front of the shepherd, 
 till it shortly brought him to the foot of the hill. There steps 
 of grassy turf, bordered with violets, had been cut in the 
 slope of the ascent, and up these he made his way to the 
 temple of the Graces. But how changed was this temple 
 since the breath of life had animated the statues ! 
 
 Two rows of columns of the fairest white marble, wreathed 
 with garlands of roses, formed an oval arcade ; and between 
 each pair of columns was a small basin from which, by a 
 system of underground pipes, foimtains of crystalline perfumed 
 water gushed forth. In the centre of the oval, which, being 
 open to the air, revealed to view the cloudless sky, the Queen 
 of Cythera herself was seated on a throne of roses, culled 
 for her by her retinue of cherub Loves. A single star gleamed
 
 THE ORIGiy OF THE GRACES. 
 
 in her golden locks. Never before had her beauty shone so 
 transcendently. The Graces, whom she had just dowered with 
 the gift of life, had heightened and perfected her own charms. 
 They were clustering round the Goddess, eagerly testifying 
 their gratitude to her by their fond caresses. They were 
 naked, adorned only with their garlands, which they twined 
 round Venus, who received their homage with visible delight. 
 Cupid, seated on his mother's lap, had forgotten Psyche to 
 worship them. The sprites of Mirth and Laughter, and all 
 the company of Pleasures and Delights, darted forward in a 
 throng. Flora, followed by Zephyrus, hastened to beautify 
 the court of Venus by her presence, decked with the fairest 
 flowers of spring. The youthful Hebe followed to pour out 
 the nectar. The immortal swans sported in the basins, while 
 the doves reposed amidst the garlands of roses which 
 decorated the columns of the temple. 
 
 As Charis approached, the celestial throng made way for 
 him. Who shall describe his rapturous delight as his eyes 
 caught sight of the Queen of Love, who had already left her 
 throne to meet her lover ! 
 
 "My daughters," she exclaimed to the Graces, "behold 
 your sire ! It is to the brilliance of his imagination that you 
 owe your charms, as it is to the tender affection with which 
 he inspires me that you owe your life." 
 
 As soon as Venus had thus spoken, the voluptuous 
 Euphrosyne approached Charis. " Yes, thou art indeed my 
 sire," she said to him with a glance of tender affection, " for 
 what other than thou could have engendered our charms ? "
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 Quickly after Euphrosyne followed the sweet Thalia, with 
 her smiling eyes. " We shall ever keep near thee," she said 
 to the Shepherd ; " we will guide thy pen, and thy writings 
 shall testify to all men that thou art the father of the Graces." 
 
 Charis stood motionless with admiration, and he was quite 
 incapable of expressing what he felt. Though in the Graces 
 he recognised his own work, he could not prevent himself 
 from admiring both the sweetly majestic features of Euphro- 
 syne and the merry brightness that illumined the countenance 
 of Thalia. He examined them one after the other, and he 
 could not tell which he admired the more. Then he looked 
 at them both together, but this only served to increase his 
 embarrassment. Such another embarrassment have men been 
 seen to experience in presence of a captivating Queen, who 
 uniting in her person all the charms of the Graces, distracts 
 the hearts of her adorers with admiration of her beauties and 
 her virtues. 
 
 The youngest of the Graces, the bashful Aglaia, had shyly 
 concealed herself behind Venus's throne. Her sisters took 
 her by the hands, and, drawing her forth, brought her to 
 Charis in spite of her resistance. As she stood before the 
 shepherd she drooped her eyes, and her cheeks flushed a 
 rich vermilion, which contrasted charmingly with her long 
 black eyelashes. 
 
 "Oh, do thou," exclaimed Charis, as he took her by the 
 hand, "do thou whose look of ingenuous candour tells me 
 thou art incapable of deceiving me, tell me by what miracle 
 thou now breathest the breath of life amidst the Immortals."
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 " Ah ! " replied Aglaia, blushing still more deeply, " thou 
 hast dowered us so richly with charms that Venus has desired 
 to have us ever near her, and has chosen us to be her 
 companions." 
 
 The happy shepherd fell at the knees of his divine mis- 
 tress ; and his joy culminated as the Goddess crowned her 
 kindness by inviting him to follow her to Cythera. 
 
 " I love thee passionately," she said to him. " It would 
 cost me bitter grief to part from thee. Come, then, to the 
 island of Cythera; the worship that I receive there will be 
 sweeter to me if shared by thee. Leave the temple of 
 Apollo, and come to that of Venus. Come and rule over 
 the Loves, over their Queen, and over the hearts of all." 
 
 Intoxicated by the favours of Venus, Charis forgot the 
 oath which bound him to the temple of Apollo; and he 
 promised to follow her, and to live for her, and for lier only. 
 He promised it in the presence of Cupid, who applauded his 
 mother's choice. 
 
 While Charis was receiving the caresses and endearments 
 of the Immortals, the young Cephissa and her companions 
 were rambling through the forest, admiring the transformation 
 which had come over it, without understanding what had 
 caused it. Soon they lost themselves in the flower-enamelled 
 paths, which presently brought them to the foot of the hill, 
 where they once more met their shepherd-swains who had 
 gone to render homage to Venus. 
 
 Each maiden followed her conqueror, and tlie loving throng 
 made their way to the temple.
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 Cephissa led the procession, leaning on the arm of the 
 loving Zamis. Her brow was still circled by the crown which 
 Cupid had bestowed upon her. Next came Zoe, accompanied 
 by her faithful Adalis. 
 
 The dusky Chloe, enamoured of the comely Hippias; the 
 bashful Nai's, who even yet scarce dared look into the face of 
 Egeris, though he was now her husband ; the agile Zima, 
 whose flying feet the hunter Altamor had outstripped, thus 
 winning the maiden for his bride ; — these, and a countless 
 throng of other youths and maidens, displaying beauties as 
 varied as are the glowing colours of earth's gems, crowded 
 together in the temple to witness the triumph of Charis. 
 
 What is already lovely the influence of the Graces renders 
 still more so ; and such is their wondrous power of endowing 
 beauty with an additional refinement of brilliance that as soon 
 as Cephissa and her companions entered their presence the 
 damsels seemed radiant with fresh charms, and their lovers 
 gazed at them with mingled surprise and delight, and breathed 
 out a homage of tender sighs to the Queen of Love. 
 
 Charis, still lying at the feet of Venus, now besought her to 
 withdraw herself from her brilliant retinue. Straightway a 
 cloud of gold and azure rose around the throne and veiled 
 them from the sight of all. Then strains of divine music 
 broke through the air, and the doves accompanied the melody 
 with their cooing notes. While Cupid presided over the joys 
 of his mother, Zephyrus, the giddy Zephyrus, was tormenting 
 the gentle Flora with his eager love. 
 
 Soon, however, he deserted her to follow the Graces. One
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 moment he was dallying with the sheeny locks of Thalia, and 
 the next he seemed longing to rest his head on the bosom of 
 Euphrosyne. But when the eldest of the Graces appeared 
 wishful to detain him, he slipped away from her, and skipped 
 off to Aglaia, who was sporting with the young Nais. At the 
 sight of Zephyrus her cheeks crimsoned with blushes. Laugh- 
 ing at her timid embarrassment, the graceless youth snatched 
 a kiss from her budding lips. Nais now avenged Aglaia by 
 seizing hold of Zephyrus's wings. In vain did he plead for 
 pardon and release ; but just as the maiden was making ready 
 the ribbon with which she was about to enchain him, a bee 
 stung her finger, and forced her to let him go. This was the 
 work of Flora who was on the watch to preserve her faithless 
 lover's liberty. Zephyrus's heart was touched, and he fiew to 
 the nymph's feet, and won his pardon from her. 
 
 Nais was now suffering great pain from the sting. She 
 could not restrain her wails of anguish, and tears streamed 
 down her cheeks. Aglaia wiped them away with a tenderly 
 caressing hand, and was about to lead her to the temple, 
 there to make her complaint to Venus, when the Goddess 
 herself appeared, leaning on Charis, and followed by all her 
 court. Compassionating the tears of Nais, " My son," she 
 said to Cupid, "this maiden's pain must be assuaged." 
 Cupid, noticing the presence of Egeris, conducted him to the 
 fair sufferer, and her lover's kiss at once made her forget her 
 pain. 
 
 The Hours, the daughters of the Sun, now appeared in tlie 
 sky, seated on the silver cloud which was to carry Venus back 
 to Olympus.
 
 46 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 " I am obliged to leave thee again," she said to her Shep- 
 herd ; " the Gods are impatient to know the Graces. I have 
 promised Jupiter to take them to him to-day ; but we shall 
 soon be restored to each other again, for it is in my mind to 
 make you immortal." 
 
 As she finished speaking, the cloud rested on the ground, 
 and the Goddess together with the Graces, seated herself upon 
 it, after casting a loving glance at Charis. Soon the cloud 
 began to soar up into the heavens, while Cupid and Zephyrus 
 flitted round it, accompanied by the sprites of Mirth and 
 Laughter. Venus's eyes still strained towards earth with a 
 sweetly languishing glance ; and the Nicceans raised their 
 hands, and gazed at the fair sight in rapt delight. But soon 
 nothing remained of it, save the fragrance of the ambrosia with 
 which the youthful Hebe had perfumed the air.
 
 IV. 
 
 HE rising moon was just beginning to cast 
 Iier gentle glow over the darkened earth ; 
 a myriad of stars peeped through the inter- 
 lacing foliage, while their twinkling fires 
 were mirrored in the smooth clear waters 
 of the streamlets ; and here and there a love-sick nightingale 
 or echo-sprite sang out responsive notes to the strains of 
 Charis, who was chanting the beauties of Venus, Suddenly 
 a noise like the sound of a nimble fawn clearing the branches 
 interrupted the poet's eulogy. In the pale light of the moon 
 he espied a goat-footed Satyr hurrying off into the recesses of 
 the forest, bearing in his arms a young maiden, whom he 
 appeared to be abducting. The surprised shepherd immedi- 
 ately hastened in the track of the Satyr, who fancying that he 
 had reached a spot where he would be safe from pursuit, had 
 seated himself on the turf at the foot of a tree. 
 
 Charis scrutinised him without allowing himself to be seen. 
 By the girl's garb he saw that she was a Bacchante. She was 
 robed in a tiger skin, and her loose locks were ornamented 
 only with a wreath of vine leaves. As she remained quite
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 motionless, and the Satyr appeared troubled, Charis ap- 
 proached, prompted by a feeling of sympathetic pity ; but the 
 Satyr, as soon as he observed him, attempted to flee again. 
 Seizing him by one of his horns, "Stay where thou art," 
 exclaimed the shepherd, " and be not alarmed. I do not 
 come to harm thee." These words, pronounced in tones of 
 gentle kindliness, reassured the youthful fugitive. " Aid me, 
 then, I beseech thee," he said to Charis in accents that 
 manifested the liveliest grief, "in restoring Nobe to life." As 
 ho spoke, he laid her upon the turf, and Charis, gathering 
 some shells, hastened to fetch water in them from a neigh- 
 bouring spring. 
 
 Upon returning, he found the Satyr attempting to revive 
 the young girl by lavishing upon her the most endearing 
 expressions. "Nobe," he cried, as his tears fell on to her 
 bosom, " if thou dost not answer me, I shall die here by thy 
 side ! " Then turning to the Shepherd, he continued, " Ah, 
 you cannot imagine how passionately I love her ! Only 
 restore her to me, and I shall owe you all my happiness." 
 
 The coldness of the water which Charis had sprinkled 
 upon the young girl's face now restored her to consciousness. 
 At first she breathed a deep sigh ; then opening her lovely 
 eyes she exclaimed, " Where am I ? " and gazed at the Satyr 
 with a look of alarm. " O Marcas ! Marcas ! hast tliou torn 
 me from my family ? Where are my sisters, my companions ? " 
 she continued, in a torrent of tears. " Cruel one ! would 
 nothing satisfy thee but the sacrifice of all that is dear 
 to me? — but who is this shepherd with the kindly face?"
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 " That I know as little as thou dost," replied Marcas, " but 
 he seemed stricken with pity at seeing thee lying lifeless, and 
 me in such bitter grief." 
 
 " Whoever thou art," exclaimed Nobe, stretching out her 
 clasped hands towards Charis, " do not, I beseech thee, leave 
 me alone in this wood with Marcas. He knows that I love 
 him, and he has already taken too great an advantage of my 
 weakness by bringing me into this wild savage place against 
 my will." 
 
 "Reassure thyself, fair Nobe," replied Charis, "this is 
 no wild savage spot where thou now art. This fsland is 
 sacred to Apollo. I am his favoured servant, and Venus, too, 
 has richly lavished her favour upon me. By the deities I 
 worship I swear to defend thee from all peril. But deign to 
 tell me in what land thou wert born, and how thou camest 
 hither." 
 
 Drawing away her hand, which Marcas was covering with 
 kisses, Nobe replied as follows : 
 
 " I cannot tell thee, O favoured servant of Apollo, how I 
 come to be in this island, for that I know not myself; but 
 what I can tell thee, I will. I was bom in the little isle of 
 Acria, sacred to Bacchus, and often honoured by the presence 
 of the God himself. During my childhood I used to witness 
 the festivals celebrated in his worship, but, too young to par- 
 ticipate in them, I could only wait with patience till I should 
 be old enough to take part in the orgies of the Bacchantes. 
 Having completed my third lustrum at the commencement of 
 the Spring, and my hand having been promised to the warrior
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 Corosophores, I was granted permission to participate in the 
 next festival in honour of Bacchus. 
 
 " I was sporting with my comrades on the sea-shore, when 
 the Higli-T'riest Bullis came to announce to us the arrival of 
 the God himself. Immediately a divine frenzy seized us ; we 
 rent our linen robes, and covered ourselves with tiger skins, 
 and the High-Priest distributed to us crowns and th)Tsuses 
 of vine leaves. Then we hastened to meet the God who was 
 animating us. Soon he appeared on the plain, throned in a 
 car drawn by panthers. Never had I seen him looking so 
 handsome. His merry face and ruddy complexion combined 
 all the charms of youth. He was bearing a thyrsus of extreme 
 height, and a wreath of vine leaves linked him to the beauteous 
 Erigone, who was seated by his side, and whom he surveyed 
 with amorous glances. A throng of Satyrs, amongst whom 
 I recognised Marcas, were dancing round the car, and playing 
 on various instruments of music ; others were carrying torches, 
 and shaking their fires in the air. The old Silenus, reeling 
 from intoxication, followed far behind on his lazy beast. The 
 near presence of tlie God thrilled us with fresh transports. 
 We mingled with the Satyrs, and exchanged our thyrsuses for 
 their torches. Alas ! Marcas must surely have borrowed 
 Cupid's own, for, as soon as he had given it to me, I sighed 
 deeply, I who had never known what it was to sigh before. 
 At last we reached the temple, making the triumph-song of 
 Bacchus and Erigone reach high heaven itself. The divine 
 pair seated themselves on a throne of grassy turf, over which 
 arched an arbour of vines loaded with the most luscious
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 grapes, and forming the fairest canopy. A thousand streams 
 of wine gushed from the temple, and poured in cascades over 
 the white marble of the steps. 
 
 " Soon the old Silenus, who seemed to wake up from a deep 
 sleep, began to spur on the Satyrs, who crowded round him, 
 and drank in wild excess ; while the Bacchantes rejoiced in 
 the fondling caresses of Erigone. Knowing that I was to 
 receive the fetters of Hymen, she asked me if I loved 
 Corosophores. I replied candidly that I had always feared him, 
 and had only accepted his hand in obedience to my mother's 
 commands. Then Erigone desired to know if I loved anyone 
 else. I know not what answer I made, but I blushed deeply, 
 for Marcas's eyes had already told me that he loved me. 
 
 " The Satyrs were now beginning to yield to the effects of 
 intoxication, and were reposing in drunken sleep on the 
 barrels from which the divine juice was flowing. Marcas 
 alone had preserved his senses whilst celebrating the rites of 
 Bacchus ; and he followed me when I ran off into the gardens 
 of the temple. 'Nobe,' he said to me, 'as long as the 
 festival lasts I shall be very happy, for I shall see thee every 
 day ; but when we have left this island, who will console me 
 for thy absence, for I love thee, Nobe, even as Bacchus loves 
 Erigone ? ' ' Beware of nourishing such a love,' I answered 
 him, 'for I must not listen to it.' 'What dost thou say, 
 Nobe? Ah, if thou wouldst return my love, how happy might 
 we be ! The woods are the asylum of lovers. Come with me, 
 I beseech thee ; a grotto with the beloved one is better than 
 the temples of the Gods.' * Alas ! dost thou not know that
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 I am the promised bride of Corosophores ? ' and I could say 
 no more ; my tears betrayed my heart, for I loved Marcas, 
 and he saw it too clearly. I fled away from him, and refused 
 to hear aught further ; and from that day I avoided being alone 
 with him, although he haunted me everywhere, 
 
 " At last the celebration came to an end, and wth bitter 
 grief I saw the moment approach which would separate me 
 from Marcas. My love for my mother kept me from following 
 him. Corosophores, whom I utterly abhorred, was going to 
 be my husband. These sad reflections quite calmed my 
 Bacchic transports, and rendered me sadly meditative. I 
 went to wander by the shore of the bay which washes our 
 island, on the side where the temple lies. The sun was near 
 his setting ; his rise would mark the end of the festival. I 
 was just beginning to surrender myself to my grief, when I 
 saw Marcas coming towards me. Despair gleamed in his 
 eyes. * I have come to bid thee farewell, cold-hearted Nobe,' 
 he said, ' for the day which tears thee from me will surely 
 see me die. How, indeed, could I continue living? I 
 adore thee, and thou hatest me ! Happy Corosophores ! it 
 is thou who wilt possess the heart which Love surely meant 
 to be mine ! ' ' No, Marcas,' I replied, ' I will never belong 
 to Corosophores; but my mother will never permit me to 
 give myself to thee, so that thou wilt not have to suffer alone. 
 Go, leave me now, but I will never forget thee ! ' ' Ah, thou 
 dost love me, then, Nobe!' he cried rapturously. 'Yes, 
 thou dost indeed love me ; it is fear which makes thee fight 
 against the promptings of thine heart. Well, I must find a
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 means of overcoming it.' As he said this, he unfastened my 
 girdle ; and then, having, in spite of all my cries and struggles, 
 tied me securely to himself, he plunged into the baj'. Terror 
 having deprived me of my senses, I know not how we escaped 
 from the waters, or whether Marcas really intended to end his 
 hfe and mine together." 
 
 Here Nobe ceased, and breathed a deep sigh. 
 
 " O cruel one ! " exclaimed Marcas, " canst thou believe 
 that I entertained the hateful thought of destroying thy life 
 in the flower of thy youth ? Take back such an unjust 
 accusation, Nobe, and pardon thy unhappy lover. I knew 
 the bay well, and that the island of Nic^ea was not far off, 
 and I was confident that my strength would enable me to 
 swim across in safety. I could see that Love had wounded 
 thee with the same dart as he had wounded me ; I was in im- 
 minent danger of losing thee ; the opportunity was favourable, 
 and I profited by it that I might make us both happy. Thy 
 abductor is thy most devoted lover. Believe this, O dearest 
 Nobe, and dry thy tears, which rack my heart, or rather 
 let my kisses wipe them away. What ! thou refusest my 
 caresses ! Thou wishest me to die, then ? Why dost thou 
 fear to give thyself to me ? Here in the forest I will choose 
 some pleasant grotto for thee. I will deck it with the 
 brilliant wings of the butterflies, and delicately carved shells 
 shall serve us as drinking-cups. Thou shalt have flowers 
 and birds in plenty ; thou shalt follow me when I go 
 hunting -, we will live on fruit and milk ; and when the 
 feast-days come round, we will return amongst our fellows
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 to worship the Gods. My Nobe shall ever have my heart's 
 love \ I swear it before thee, O favoured one of Apollo ! " 
 
 " I receive thy oath," said Charis \ *' but why, O fair Nobe, 
 wilt thou not consent to remain in this island ? Thou wilt 
 find here other hearts as mild and gentle as that of Marcas. 
 Cupid has just extended his empire over us, and reared a 
 throne in his mother's honour. I myself will present thee 
 to the Goddess, for I am her happy lover." 
 
 " Deign then, I pray thee," exclaimed the Satyr, " to plead 
 with her, and to soften my Nobe's heart." 
 
 " There is no longer any need to do so," said the maiden, 
 gaily. " I yield to I.ove. It is time now to reveal my own, 
 for I feel that I adore thee. 'Twould be vain for me to try 
 to conceal it from thee any longer, Marcas. Receive my 
 homage, O all-powerful Venus, and the oath which I, in 
 my turn, take to live for Marcas alone ! " 
 
 As a radiant dawn ofttimes succeeds a night of murky 
 storm, so now did glad hope return to the heart of Marcas. 
 No more did he think of flight. Nobe loved him, and 
 consented to unite herself to him. All places were the 
 same to him so long as she was with him. He now invited 
 the shepherd to taste some of the delicious wine which he 
 had brought with him from the festival of Bacchus in a 
 leather bottle which hung from his girdle. The divine 
 juice thrilled Charis with a sweet transport. He was 
 eager to hymn the praises of the God who was animating 
 him, and, taking up his lyre, he sang in strains whose 
 sweetness touched Nobe's heart.
 
 TIIF. ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 " O charming Bacchus ! " he l)egan ; " who, sweet God, 
 could withstand thee ? Thou sharest with Love the empire 
 over all hearts. How many times has thy divine liquid 
 saved him the necessity of winging an arrow ! Thy nectar 
 serves him equally well as his own weapons ; and when old 
 age freezes our senses thou thrillest them with fresh life, 
 and makest us once more capable of glad love. Father of 
 mirth and gaiety, thou banishest gloom and anxiety. Yes, 
 indeed, it behoves us to enjoy thy gifts, and to seize the 
 opportunity of pleasure. Lose not your time, then, O young 
 lovers whom Bacchus excites and Love favours ; crown 
 yourselves with flowers and vine leaves, for it is Bacchus 
 alone, who, together with Love, can make you happy." 
 
 So sang Charis, and Nobe poured out more wine for him. 
 A sweet intoxication laid hold of his senses, and it was in 
 vain that he attempted to continue his strains. His eyelids 
 were already closed. Nobe, who looked at him with smiling 
 eyes, tried to call him back to himself, but soon a deep 
 slumber robbed him of all consciousness. 
 
 Scarcely had the shepherd fallen asleep, when Cupid led 
 Marcas and Nobe into the temple of the Graces, which 
 became for them the temple of the Pleasures.
 
 HE Sun was blazing in mid-heaven, and 
 his fierce rays seemed to have set the 
 sky on fire ; weary wayfarers were 
 turning aside to seek some spring 
 where they might cool their parched 
 throats ; the shepherds were leading 
 their flocks into the forests to rest in the cool breezy shade ; 
 the harvesters were deserting the burning fields, and seeking 
 protection from the torrid noontide heat beneath the shelter 
 of the rocks ; and the youthful Nymphs were sporting in the 
 willow-shaded pools, when Venus once more returned to the 
 island of Nicrea, accompanied only by Cupid, and preceded 
 by Hope. As soon as she appeared in sight, Cephissa and 
 her companions ran forward to meet her. The Goddess 
 inquired for Charis. 
 
 *'We have not seen him," Cephissa replied, "but a 
 Bacchante and a Satyr, whom we met in the plantations by 
 the temple as the dawn was breaking, told us that they had 
 left him sleeping in the wood." 
 
 Then Nobe and Marcas, who had mingled with the throng.
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 Stepped forward. "Goddess," said Nobe, "the shepherd 
 whom thou hast taken into thy favour has led me to hope 
 that thou wouldst accept our liomage. Give me leave, I 
 pray thee, to go and tell him that thou hast returned." 
 
 " I will come with thee myself," replied Venus ; " I would 
 rather surprise him unannounced." 
 
 She supported herself on Nobe's arm, and, as they walked 
 on together, the Goddess asked the girl how she had come 
 to be in her temple with a Satyr. Nobe told her story in a 
 few sentences, and Venus promised her her favour. 
 
 All the Nic^ean damsels had by this time spread them- 
 selves through the wood, and were calling out Charis's name. 
 The echoes returned their voices, and at first they thought it 
 was the shepherd that they heard. They all eagerly sought 
 to find him, and each one strove to be the first to discover 
 him. 
 
 Venus, who seemed to have borrowed her son's wings, 
 quickly arrived at the spot where Nobe had left Charis asleep, 
 but the shepherd was no longer there. The Goddess, ill 
 at ease, ordered her dove to fly into the most secluded 
 parts of the wood, whilst she herself hastening with her 
 followers towards the valley where she had first met Charis, 
 aroused the echoes of the forest with her lover's name. Why 
 was he deaf to those dear accents ? Why did he not reply 
 to the anxious impatience of the loving Venus ? Could it be, 
 oh horrid thought ! that wild beasts had devoured him while 
 he slept? or that the Gods, jealous of his happiness, had 
 bereft him of life? These possibilities racked Venus with 
 
 H
 
 58 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 the keenest agony. As she entered the grotto where she had 
 hoped she might find her lover, she fell down on the mossy 
 bed which had been the throne of her joys. O Love ! Love ! 
 is not even Venus herself exempt from thy sickening fears? 
 
 The light-footed Zima now appeared, but only to augment 
 the Goddess's alarms. She had been all over the island, 
 and no one had seen aught of Charis. The dove presently 
 followed her, and her mournful notes announced that she had 
 seen nothing of the shepherd. Then Venus's grief broke 
 forth in bitter wailings, which were interrupted only by her 
 tears ; and she was quite insensible to the fond caresses of her 
 son, and the Nica^an maidens, who eagerly strove to console 
 her. 
 
 "Am I then doomed to lose thee," she cried, "when I 
 love thee so tenderly? O Charis, Charis, where art thou? 
 Even if thou art faithless, fear not to come to me. Though 
 thou art perjured, yet still will I adore thee ; I could never 
 take vengeance on so sweet a head. But no ! he is not 
 faithless. The jealous Gods will not suffer him to be happy, 
 and, if he still lives, he is enduring the same torments as I. 
 I observed the astonishment of the Gods when the Graces 
 first broke upon their sight in OljTnpus. Jupiter himself 
 could not restrain an impulse of jealousy, and Apollo seemed 
 annoyed. Alas ! can it indeed be that that inestimable gift 
 with which thou hast dowefed the Universe in the person of 
 the Graces, whilst arousing the admiration of all, has brought 
 thee to thy doom by exciting base envy against thee ? Charis ! 
 Charis ! O my sweet love, it is I who have slain thee ! The 
 thought is agony to me ! "
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 Venus could say no more ; and, letting her head fall on 
 the bosom of Cephissa, she lay in mournful silence. The 
 gentle maidens gazed at her in sympathetic grief] and Nobe 
 whispered to Marcas, " Oh, how I pity her ! I should have 
 been as distressed as she is if I had lost thee." 
 
 Cupid, however, now threw himself at his mother's knees, 
 and tried to console her. He covered her hand with kisses, 
 and conjured her not to abandon hope ; and eventually by 
 his caresses he succeeded in rekindling its light in her heart. 
 
 "I am only too anxious to beUeve thee, my son," she 
 said ; " I ^vill go with thee, and thoroughly search this fatal 
 island in person." 
 
 As she thus spoke, she rose up, and made her way down 
 into the valley, casting searching glances all around her. 
 Presently she arrived in the town. All the inhabitants 
 prostrated themselves before her, seized by the religious awe 
 which is inspired by the presence of the deities. The 
 Goddess was racked with too bitter pangs to allow the 
 homage of the people to detain her. Her hair was streaming 
 in loose disorder, and she carried in her hand a veil of gauze 
 with which she wiped away the tears that streamed from her 
 sweet eyes. She ran to the temple of Apollo ; she demanded 
 her lover from the throng of people that surrounded it; she 
 demanded him from the women, from the young girls, from 
 the children. Their silence expressed their surprise. Then 
 the Goddess returned to the forest, and demanded Charis of 
 the echoes, of the streamlets, of the verdure, of the trees 
 themselves. She stood gazing with searching eyes at the spots
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 where they had conversed together. The sight of their ciphers 
 interlaced and carved on the tender bark of the trees at first 
 rooted her motionless to the ground; but presently she 
 covered the memorials of her joy with amorous kisses, and, 
 racked with bitter despair, exclaimed : " Oh, now that I 
 have lost thee I will stay for ever amid these scenes, where 
 I shall always have before me a livelier recollection of my 
 sweet love. Oh why, thou cruel Destiny, didst thou ever 
 bring me forth from the bosom of the waves? Why hast 
 thou made me immortal, since I am fated to be racked 
 with such bitter torments ? A thousand times more blessed 
 is she who can die when she has lost all that she loves ! But 
 thou, O unhappy Venus, art deprived of this mitigation of thy 
 woe ! Yet why should I remain in this island where every- 
 thing serves but to embitter my grief? I will fiee away from 
 its fatal shores ; and I will banish myself to the extremities 
 of the earth, there to hide my tears and my despair, for 
 never again will I mount up into high Olympus, unless it 
 be to carry away the Graces, my sweet companions, the 
 daughters of my Charis. Alas ! him I have lost for ever, and 
 without knowing who it is that hath separated us. If, ah me ! 
 thou hast been ravished away to the abodes of the dead, let 
 thy beloved shade float up hither and mingle its sad murmurs 
 with my sighs ; it is I, I, who am the innocent cause that 
 has brought thee to thy end ! Oh, what hideous words am I 
 uttering ? Thou canst not be dead ! Thou livest, surely 
 thou livest ! What God could be so barbarous as to lay mur- 
 derous hands on so sweet a life ? Oh, this horrible uncer-
 
 THE ORIGl.V OF THE GRACES. 6i 
 
 tainty that racks me ! When Adonis was ravished from me, I 
 could at least rain my tearful kisses on his dying lips ; and I 
 did all that I could to lighten his cruel fate by giving him 
 fresh existence as a fair flower. Ah, Charis, did I love him as 
 I love thee ? No ; he was not dowered with charms like 
 thine, and, more than all, he lacked thy spell-casting genius. 
 
 ye loving maids that dwell in this isle, may ye be happier 
 than I ! Farewell, dear ones ; be not cast down ; the Graces 
 and Love will ever look down upon you with their smiling 
 favour. Farewell ; ye have shared my woe for long enough ; 
 
 1 will hie me where I may suffer alone the agony of my 
 grief." 
 
 " Stay, stay, my mother ! " exclaimed Cupid in mournful 
 alarm ; " surely thou wilt not punish the world for the injus- 
 tice of Fate by robbing it of Beauty ! Come, beloved mother, 
 let us go and consult Destiny. It may be that thy lover no 
 longer enjoys the light, or it may be that some hostile influ- 
 ence keeps him from thee. Whichever it be, Destiny will be 
 able to tell us.'-* 
 
 He spoke with such loving sympathy that his mother could 
 not deny his request, and once more she soared up with him 
 into the heavens to seek the palace of Destiny. 
 
 Amidst the clouds which surround high Olympus lies a fog- 
 shrouded road, which leads to a lofty mountain formed of the 
 fragments of chaos. At the foot of it yawns the cavern, im- 
 penetrable to mortals, where Destiny delivers his oracles. 
 Venus succeeded in reaching it, by the aid of Cupid's torch. 
 She saw the old man, bent beneath the weight of his years,
 
 6j the origin of THE GRACES. 
 
 supporting himself on the urn wherein lie the various lots of 
 mortal men. At the sight of Love and Beauty, Destiny raised 
 his trembling head, and smiled at them, 
 
 "I know what brings thee hither," he said to Venus; and 
 as he spoke he opened the book of destinies. " What is it 
 that I see ? " then exclaimed the old man. " An irrevocable 
 decree, sweet Goddess, separates thee from him thou lovest. 
 He has incurred the wrath of the Gods. Alas ! their anger 
 has fallen upon him because they will not brook that mortal 
 man should show himself their equal." 
 
 He then went up close to his urn, and began to listen 
 earnestly to a dull sound that seemed to issue from it. After 
 keeping silence for a few moments, he again spoke. 
 
 " The Muses, O Goddess, angered at Love having caused 
 the suppression of the celebrations in honour of Coresia, have 
 sworn to take vengeance upon Charis, whose duty it was to 
 defend their rites. Apollo, jealous of the shepherd's talents 
 and of the honours which thou wert preparing for him, took 
 fear lest men should raise altars in his worship ; and, Charis 
 having forgotten the oath which bound him to his temple, 
 the offended God no longer restrained his anger, but leagued 
 himself with the Muses. They commanded Morpheus to cast 
 a spell over the shepherd in some unknown cave. Taking 
 advantage of the opportunity offered by Charis when he 
 yielded to the influence of Bacchus, Morpheus made 
 him his captive ; and by the aid of his airy dream-sprites 
 has transported him to a place which I may not reveal to 
 thee. But let this thought console thee, O all-beauteous
 
 THE ORIGIN OF THE GRACES. 
 
 63 
 
 Venus; he whose brilliant imagination could give birth to 
 the Graces can never be forgotten. Such is the grand 
 destiny of the Poet. His memory survives. Injustice 
 cannot slay it. It braves and conquers the persecutions 
 of both men and Gods. The genius of Charis will inspire 
 all those upon whom Apollo confers his highest favours, 
 and men will often doubt which of them is the true father 
 of the Graces. Voltaire will speak their language, and 
 cause the balance to incline. But though the Graces shall 
 ever remain in the train of Beauty — for it has been decreed 
 that they shall be its companions — they can only be born 
 of the charms of Poesy and the unsophisticated simplicity 
 of Nature.
 
 EDINBURGH : 
 PRINTED BY TURNBULL AND SPEARS.
 
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