The Last Days of Pompeii Part 63

my second is a priest; I revere his garb and calling--but, people of Pompeii! ye know somewhat of the character of Calenus--he is griping and gold-thirsty to a proverb; the witness of such men is to be bought!

Praetor, I am innocent!'

'Sall.u.s.t,' said the magistrate, 'where found you Calenus?'

'In the dungeons of Arbaces.'

'Egyptian,' said the praetor, frowning, 'thou didst, then, dare to imprison a priest of the G.o.ds--and wherefore?'

'Hear me,' answered Arbaces, rising calmly, but with agitation visible in his face. 'This man came to threaten that he would make against me the charge he has now made, unless I would purchase his silence with half my fortune: I remonstrated--in vain. Peace there--let not the priest interrupt me! n.o.ble praetor--and ye, O people! I was a stranger in the land--I knew myself innocent of crime--but the witness of a priest against me might yet destroy me. In my perplexity I decoyed him to the cell whence he has been released, on pretence that it was the coffer-house of my gold. I resolved to detain him there until the fate of the true criminal was sealed, and his threats could avail no longer; but I meant no worse. I may have erred--but who amongst ye will not acknowledge the equity of self-preservation? Were I guilty, why was the witness of this priest silent at the trial?--then I had not detained or concealed him. Why did he not proclaim my guilt when I proclaimed that of Glaucus? Praetor, this needs an answer. For the rest, I throw myself on your laws. I demand their protection. Remove hence the accused and the accuser. I will willingly meet, and cheerfully abide by, the decision of the legitimate tribunal. This is no place for further parley.'

'He says right,' said the praetor. 'Ho! guards--remove Arbaces--guard Calenus! Sall.u.s.t, we hold you responsible for your accusation. Let the sports be resumed.'

'What!' cried Calenus, turning round to the people, 'shall Isis be thus contemned? Shall the blood of Apaecides yet cry for vengeance? Shall justice be delayed now, that it may be frustrated hereafter? Shall the lion be cheated of his lawful prey? A G.o.d! a G.o.d!--I feel the G.o.d rush to my lips! To the lion--to the lion with Arbaces!'

His exhausted frame could support no longer the ferocious malice of the priest; he sank on the ground in strong convulsions--the foam gathered to his mouth--he was as a man, indeed, whom a supernatural power had entered! The people saw and shuddered.

'It is a G.o.d that inspires the holy man! To the lion with the Egyptian!'

With that cry up sprang--on moved--thousands upon thousands! They rushed from the heights--they poured down in the direction of the Egyptian. In vain did the aedile command--in vain did the praetor lift his voice and proclaim the law. The people had been already rendered savage by the exhibition of blood--they thirsted for more--their superst.i.tion was aided by their ferocity. Aroused--inflamed by the spectacle of their victims, they forgot the authority of their rulers. It was one of those dread popular convulsions common to crowds wholly ignorant, half free and half servile; and which the peculiar const.i.tution of the Roman provinces so frequently exhibited. The power of the praetor was as a reed beneath the whirlwind; still, at his word the guards had drawn themselves along the lower benches, on which the upper cla.s.ses sat separate from the vulgar. They made but a feeble barrier--the waves of the human sea halted for a moment, to enable Arbaces to count the exact moment of his doom! In despair, and in a terror which beat down even pride, he glanced his eyes over the rolling and rus.h.i.+ng crowd--when, right above them, through the wide chasm which had been left in the velaria, he beheld a strange and awful apparition--he beheld--and his craft restored his courage!

He stretched his hand on high; over his lofty brow and royal features there came an expression of unutterable solemnity and command.

'Behold!' he shouted with a voice of thunder, which stilled the roar of the crowd; 'behold how the G.o.ds protect the guiltless! The fires of the avenging Orcus burst forth against the false witness of my accusers!'

The eyes of the crowd followed the gesture of the Egyptian, and beheld, with ineffable dismay, a vast vapor shooting from the summit of Vesuvius, in the form of a gigantic pine-tree; the trunk, blackness--the branches, fire!--a fire that s.h.i.+fted and wavered in its hues with every moment, now fiercely luminous, now of a dull and dying red, that again blazed terrifically forth with intolerable glare!

There was a dead, heart-sunken silence--through which there suddenly broke the roar of the lion, which was echoed back from within the building by the sharper and fiercer yells of its fellow-beast. Dread seers were they of the Burden of the Atmosphere, and wild prophets of the wrath to come!

Then there arose on high the universal shrieks of women; the men stared at each other, but were dumb. At that moment they felt the earth shake beneath their feet; the walls of the theatre trembled: and, beyond in the distance, they heard the crash of falling roofs; an instant more and the mountain-cloud seemed to roll towards them, dark and rapid, like a torrent; at the same time, it cast forth from its bosom a shower of ashes mixed with vast fragments of burning stone! Over the crus.h.i.+ng vines--over the desolate streets--over the amphitheatre itself--far and wide--with many a mighty splash in the agitated sea--fell that awful shower!

No longer thought the crowd of justice or of Arbaces; safety for themselves was their sole thought. Each turned to fly--each das.h.i.+ng, pressing, crus.h.i.+ng, against the other. Trampling recklessly over the fallen--amidst groans, and oaths, and prayers, and sudden shrieks, the enormous crowd vomited itself forth through the numerous pa.s.sages.

Whither should they fly? Some, antic.i.p.ating a second earthquake, hastened to their homes to load themselves with their more costly goods, and escape while it was yet time; others, dreading the showers of ashes that now fell fast, torrent upon torrent, over the streets, rushed under the roofs of the nearest houses, or temples, or sheds--shelter of any kind--for protection from the terrors of the open air. But darker, and larger, and mightier, spread the cloud above them. It was a sudden and more ghastly Night rus.h.i.+ng upon the realm of Noon!

Chapter V

THE CELL OF THE PRISONER AND THE DEN OF THE DEAD. GRIEF UNCONSCIOUS OF HORROR.

STUNNED by his reprieve, doubting that he was awake, Glaucus had been led by the officers of the arena into a small cell within the walls of the theatre. They threw a loose robe over his form, and crowded round in congratulation and wonder. There was an impatient and fretful cry without the cell; the throng gave way, and the blind girl, led by some gentler hand, flung herself at the feet of Glaucus.

'It is I who have saved thee,' she sobbed; now let me die!'

'Nydia, my child!--my preserver!'

'Oh, let me feel thy touch--thy breath! Yes, yes, thou livest! We are not too late! That dread door, methought it would never yield! and Calenus--oh! his voice was as the dying wind among tombs--we had to wait--G.o.ds! it seemed hours ere food and wine restored to him something of strength. But thou livest! thou livest yet! And I--I have saved thee!'

This affecting scene was soon interrupted by the event just described.

'The mountain! the earthquake!' resounded from side to side. The officers fled with the rest; they left Glaucus and Nydia to save themselves as they might.

As the sense of the dangers around them flashed on the Athenian, his generous heart recurred to Olinthus. He, too, was reprieved from the tiger by the hand of the G.o.ds; should he be left to a no less fatal death in the neighboring cell? Taking Nydia by the hand, Glaucus hurried across the pa.s.sages; he gained the den of the Christian! He found Olinthus kneeling and in prayer.

'Arise! arise! my friend,' he cried. 'Save thyself, and fly! See!

Nature is thy dread deliverer!' He led forth the bewildered Christian, and pointed to a cloud which advanced darker and darker, disgorging forth showers of ashes and pumice stones--and bade him hearken to the cries and trampling rush of the scattered crowd.

'This is the hand of G.o.d--G.o.d be praised!' said Olinthus, devoutly.

'Fly! seek thy brethren!--Concert with them thy escape. Farewell!'

Olinthus did not answer, neither did he mark the retreating form of his friend. High thoughts and solemn absorbed his soul: and in the enthusiasm of his kindling heart, he exulted in the mercy of G.o.d rather than trembled at the evidence of His power.

At length he roused himself, and hurried on, he scarce knew whither.

The open doors of a dark, desolate cell suddenly appeared on his path; through the gloom within there flared and flickered a single lamp; and by its light he saw three grim and naked forms stretched on the earth in death. His feet were suddenly arrested; for, amidst the terror of that drear recess--the spoliarium of the arena--he heard a low voice calling on the name of Christ!

He could not resist lingering at that appeal: he entered the den, and his feet were dabbled in the slow streams of blood that gushed from the corpses over the sand.

'Who,' said the Nazarene, 'calls upon the son of G.o.d?'

No answer came forth; and turning round, Olinthus beheld, by the light of the lamp, an old grey-headed man sitting on the floor, and supporting in his lap the head of one of the dead. The features of the dead man were firmly and rigidly locked in the last sleep; but over the lip there played a fierce smile--not the Christian's smile of hope, but the dark sneer of hatred and defiance. Yet on the face still lingered the beautiful roundness of early youth. The hair curled thick and glossy over the unwrinkled brow; and the down of manhood but slightly shaded the marble of the hueless cheek. And over this face bent one of such unutterable sadness--of such yearning tenderness--of such fond and such deep despair! The tears of the old man fell fast and hot, but he did not feel them; and when his lips moved, and he mechanically uttered the prayer of his benign and hopeful faith, neither his heart nor his sense responded to the words: it was but the involuntary emotion that broke from the lethargy of his mind. His boy was dead, and had died for him!--and the old man's heart was broken!

'Medon!' said Olinthus, pityingly, 'arise, and fly! G.o.d is forth upon the wings of the elements! The New Gomorrah is doomed!--Fly, ere the fires consume thee!'

'He was ever so full of life!--he cannot be dead! Come hither!--place your hand on his heart!--sure it beats yet?'

'Brother, the soul has fled! We will remember it in our prayers! Thou canst not reanimate the dumb clay! Come, come--hark! while I speak, yon cras.h.i.+ng walls!--hark! yon agonizing cries! Not a moment is to be lost!--Come!'

'I hear nothing!' said Medon, shaking his grey hair. 'The poor boy, his love murdered him!'

'Come! come! forgive this friendly force.'

'What! Who could sever the father from the son?' And Medon clasped the body tightly in his embrace, and covered it with pa.s.sionate kisses.

'Go!' said he, lifting up his face for one moment. 'Go!--we must be alone!'

'Alas!' said the compa.s.sionate Nazarene, 'Death hath severed ye already!'

The old man smiled very calmly. 'No, no, no!' muttered, his voice growing lower with each word--'Death has been more kind!'

With that his head drooped on His son's breast--his arms relaxed their grasp. Olinthus caught him by the hand--the pulse had ceased to beat!

The last words of the father were the words of truth--Death had been more kind!

Meanwhile Glaucus and Nydia were pacing swiftly up the perilous and fearful streets. The Athenian had learned from his preserver that Ione was yet in the house of Arbaces. Thither he fled, to release--to save her! The few slaves whom the Egyptian had left at his mansion when he had repaired in long procession to the amphitheatre, had been able to offer no resistance to the armed band of Sall.u.s.t; and when afterwards the volcano broke forth, they had huddled together, stunned and frightened, in the inmost recesses of the house. Even the tall Ethiopian had forsaken his post at the door; and Glaucus (who left Nydia without--the poor Nydia, jealous once more, even in such an hour!) pa.s.sed on through the vast hall without meeting one from whom to learn the chamber of Ione. Even as he pa.s.sed, however, the darkness that covered the heavens increased so rapidly that it was with difficulty he could guide his steps. The flower-wreathed columns seemed to reel and tremble; and with every instant he heard the ashes fall cranchingly into the roofless peristyle. He ascended to the upper rooms--breathless he paced along, shouting out aloud the name of Ione; and at length he heard, at the end of a gallery, a voice--her voice, in wondering reply!

To rush forward--to shatter the door--to seize Ione in his arms--to hurry from the mansion--seemed to him the work of an instant! Scarce had he gained the spot where Nydia was, than he heard steps advancing towards the house, and recognized the voice of Arbaces, who had returned to seek his wealth and Ione ere he fled from the doomed Pompeii. But so dense was already the reeking atmosphere, that the foes saw not each other, though so near--save that, dimly in the gloom, Glaucus caught the moving outline of the snowy robes of the Egyptian.

They hastened onward--those three. Alas! whither? They now saw not a step before them--the blackness became utter. They were encompa.s.sed with doubt and horror!--and the death he had escaped seemed to Glaucus only to have changed its form and augmented its victims.