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Updated: May 3, 2025
"You are no Ichomachus, Xenophon's perfect wife-educator," the ex-pirate had said to his importunate cousin; "wait a few years." And Agias was fain to be content, with this hope before him. There were other partings than his; but at last the adieus were over, and all save Cæsar went back upon the quay. The Imperator alone tarried on the poop of the vessel for an instant.
We shall, in this chapter, relate the story of Panthea, which is also one of Xenophon's tales.
One of Xenophon's characters says: "I am pleased with myself, because I am poor. When I was rich I had to pay court to my calumniators, who knew full well that they could harm me more than I could them. Then the Republic was always imposing fresh taxes and I could not escape. Now that I am poor, I am invested with authority; no one threatens me. I threaten others.
People who eat too much, drink too much, smoke too much, and do not exercise enough, have to pay for their privileges, even though they are able to work differential calculus with one hand and recite Xenophon's "Anabasis" backward.
A great many extraordinary and dramatic incidents and adventures, similar in general character to the story of Panthea, are interwoven with the narrative in Xenophon's history.
The wife, Penelope, Andromache, Alkestis, nay, even the charming young bride in Xenophon's "Oeconomics," is, while excluded from many concerns, distinctly reverenced and loved in her own household capacity; but the reverence is of the sort which the man feels for his parents and his household gods, and the affection is calm and gently rebuking like that for his children.
By such means Alfonso was able to entertain distinguished guests with unrivalled splendor; he found pleasure in ceaseless expense, even for the benefit of his enemies, and in rewarding literary work knew absolutely no measure. Poggio received 500 pieces of gold for translating Xenophon's 'Cyropaedeia' into Latin.
She also took up the study of Greek in order to assist me with my lessons in that language. When I studied my Greek I always led my aunt Claire to the stairway and I sprawled there upon the steps, my feet higher than my head; for two or three years that was the classic pose I took for the study of the Iliad, or Xenophon's Cyropedia.
No one had anything better to suggest; the soldiers enthusiastically accepted Xenophon's plan of action, and soon were on the march again, with Tissaphernes, their late guide, now their open foe. They marched in a hollow oblong body, with the baggage in the centre. Here also walked the women, of whom many had accompanied the army through all its career.
Then the foreground began to clear, and there before me, with their heads still muffled in vapour, were the mountains. Xenophon's Ten Thousand did not hail the sea more gladly than I welcomed those frowning ramparts of the Berg. Once again my weariness was eased. I cried to Colin, and together we ran down into the wide, shallow trough which lies at the foot of the hills.
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