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Updated: June 12, 2025
As he passed, he saw Troy and her remains, venerable for the vicissitude of her fate, and for the birth of Rome: regaining the coast of Asia, he put in at Colophon, to consult there the oracle of the Clarian Apollo: it is no Pythoness that represents the God here, as at Delphos, but a Priest, one chosen from certain families, chiefly of Miletus; neither requires he more than just to hear the names and numbers of the querists, and then descends into the oracular cave; where, after a draught of water from a secret spring, though ignorant for the most part of letters and poetry, he yet utters his answers in verse, which has for its subject the conceptions and wishes of each consultant.
"Ah, Mac," said Clarian, enthusiastically seizing my chum's hands, "such recognition as yours is what I have yearned for, and yet 'tis you who have chiefly mocked me. It shall be finished, Mac, and worthily! Do you not think I have prayed for the inspiration, that I might bestow that final, life-giving touch?
"Nothing?" echoed Mac, very indignantly; "you speak very confidently for one having such poor grounds." "My dear Mac," said Thorne, kindly, "do you think I am not as much concerned about Clarian as you are? Positively, I would give half I own to arrive at a satisfactory solution of this mystery. But what can we do? The boy believes himself a great criminal.
Proceed: 'lay on, Mac! none of us will cry, 'Hold, enough! save under risible compulsion." Mac sulked awhile, but soon resumed his reading, sparing us further comment, however. Thus was Clarian led over the threshold, and introduced into Shakspeare's magic world.
We saw nothing of Clarian until some three or four nights after this, when he came hurriedly into our room. It was quite late, but Mac was still at his Mathematics, while I was dawdling with my pipe and a volume of Sternberg's pleasant tales.
Here, Buckhurst, you are the strongest; stop whimpering there, you old jackanapes, and bring him along." Buckhurst quickly obeyed, lifting Clarian up in his arms as gently and tenderly as if he had been an infant, and following Thorne, who led the way to our rooms.
Clarian did not need my sympathy, had excitement and encouragement enough in his own hopes, and, in fact, like the Boatswain in "The Tempest," only required to be let alone. Still, he paid us a visit now and then, and gave us to understand that he denied himself our society, did not thrust it aside as something useless and disagreeable.
And you are neglecting it, both in theory and practice, Clarian; so you must give up these infernal Metaphysics. If you will bother about speculative matters, let Bacon teach you the correctives of error, and Locke how to govern and rein in the understanding. But you'd better learn first what men say about men.
Wat de hell did he care about gittid wet, he'd like to kdow? Dodsedse! 'twad all dud id fud, adyhow!" "And now you, my dear, dear friends," said Clarian, turning his sad, full eyes upon us, and calling us to his side, and to his arms. But I shall draw a veil over that interview.
Oh, my God, do not name her! do not name her!" And he burst into the only tears I ever saw him shed, hiding his face in the bed-clothes, and sobbing piteously. "What does this mean?" said Mac, as soon as we were where Clarian could not hear us. "What have you found out?" "Positively nothing more than you know already," answered Thorne.
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