Sometimes the cloud appeared to break from its solid mass, and, by the
lightning, to assume quaint and vast mimicries of human or of monster
shapes, striding across the gloom, hurtling one upon the other, and
vanishing swiftly into the turbulent abyss of shade; so that, to the
eyes and fancies of the affrighted wanderers, the unsubstantial vapors
were as the bodily forms of gigantic foes--the agents of terror and of
death.
The ashes in many places were already knee-deep; and the boiling showers
which came from the steaming breath of the volcano forced their way into
the houses, bearing with them a strong and suffocating vapor. In some
places, immense fragments of rock, hurled upon the house roofs, bore
down along the streets masses of confused ruin, which yet more and more,
with every hour, obstructed the way; and, as the day advanced, the
motion of the earth was more sensibly felt--the footing seemed to slide
and creep--nor could chariot or litter be kept steady, even on the most
level ground.
Sometimes the huger stones striking against each other as they fell,
broke into countless fragments, emitting sparks of fire, which caught
whatever was combustible within their reach; and along the plains beyond
the city the darkness was now terribly relieved; for several houses, and
even vineyards, had been set on flames; and at various intervals the
fires rose suddenly and fiercely against the solid gloom. To add to
this partial relief of the darkness, the citizens had, here and there,
in the more public places, such as the porticoes of temples and the
entrances to the forum, endeavored to place rows of torches; but these
rarely continued long; the showers and the winds extinguished them, and
the sudden darkness into which their sudden birth was converted had
something in it doubly terrible and doubly impressing on the impotence
of human hopes, the lesson of despair.
Frequently, by the momentary light of these torches, parties of
fugitives encountered each other, some hurrying towards the sea, others
flying from the sea back to the land; for the ocean had retreated
rapidly from the shore--an utter darkness lay over it, and upon its
groaning and tossing waves the storm of cinders and rock fell without
the protection which the streets and roofs afforded to the land.
Wild--haggard--ghastly with supernatural fears, these groups encountered
each other, but without the leisure to speak, to consult, to advise; for
the showers fell now frequently, though not continuously, extinguishing
the lights, which showed to each band the deathlike faces of the other,
and hurrying all to seek refuge beneath the nearest shelter. The whole
elements of civilization were broken up. Ever and anon, by the
flickering lights, you saw the thief hastening by the most solemn
authorities of the law, laden with, and fearfully chuckling over, the
produce of his sudden gains. If, in the darkness, wife was separated
from husband, or parent from child, vain was the hope of reunion. Each
hurried blindly and confusedly on. Nothing in all the various and
complicated machinery of social life was left save the primal law of
self-preservation!
Through this awful scene did the Athenian wade his way, accompanied by
Ione and the blind girl. Suddenly, a rush of hundreds, in their path to
the sea, swept by them. Nydia was torn from the side of Glaucus, who,
with Ione, was borne rapidly onward; and when the crowd (whose forms
they saw not, so thick was the gloom) were gone, Nydia was still
separated from their side. Glaucus shouted her name. No answer came.
They retraced their steps--in vain: they could not discover her--it was
evident she had been swept along some opposite direction by the human
current. Their friend, their preserver, was lost! And hitherto Nydia
had been their guide. Her blindness rendered the scene familiar to her
alone. Accustomed, through a perpetual night, to thread the windings of
the city, she had led them unerringly towards the sea-shore, by which
they had resolved to hazard an escape. Now, which way could they wend?
all was rayless to them--a maze without a clue. Wearied, despondent,
bewildered, they, however, passed along, the ashes falling upon their
heads, the fragmentary stones dashing up in sparkles before their feet.
'Alas! alas!' murmured Ione, 'I can go no farther; my steps sink among
the scorching cinders. Fly, dearest!--beloved, fly! and leave me to my
fate!'
'Hush, my betrothed! my bride! Death with thee is sweeter than life
without thee! Yet, whither--oh! whither, can we direct ourselves
through the gloom? Already it seems that we have made but a circle, and
are in the very spot which we quitted an hour ago.'
'O gods! yon rock--see, it hath riven the roof before us! It is death
to move through the streets!'
'Blessed lightning! See, Ione--see! the portico of the Temple of
Fortune is before us. Let us creep beneath it; it will protect us from
the showers.'
He caught his beloved in his arms, and with difficulty and labor gained
the temple. He bore her to the remoter and more sheltered part of the
portico, and leaned over her, that he might shield her, with his own
form, from the lightning and the showers! The beauty and the
unselfishness of love could hallow even that dismal time!
'Who is there?' said the trembling and hollow voice of one who had
preceded them in their place of refuge. 'Yet, what matters?--the crush
of the ruined world forbids to us friends or foes.'
Ione turned at the sound of the voice, and, with a faint shriek, cowered
again beneath the arms of Glaucus: and he, looking in the direction of
the voice, beheld the cause of her alarm. Through the darkness glared
forth two burning eyes--the lightning flashed and lingered athwart the
temple--and Glaucus, with a shudder, perceived the lion to which he had
been doomed couched beneath the pillars--and, close beside it, unwitting
of the vicinity, lay the giant form of him who had accosted them--the
wounded gladiator, Niger.
That lightning had revealed to each other the form of beast and man; yet
the instinct of both was quelled. Nay, the lion crept nearer and nearer
to the gladiator, as for companionship; and the gladiator did not recede
or tremble. The revolution of Nature had dissolved her lighter terrors
as well as her wonted ties.
While they were thus terribly protected, a group of men and women,
bearing torches, passed by the temple. They were of the congregation of
the Nazarenes; and a sublime and unearthly emotion had not, indeed,
quelled their awe, but it had robbed awe of fear. They had long
believed, according to the error of the early Christians, that the Last
Day was at hand; they imagined now that the Day had come.
'Woe! woe!' cried, in a shrill and piercing voice, the elder at their
head. 'Behold! the Lord descendeth to judgment! He maketh fire come
down from heaven in the sight of men! Woe! woe! ye strong and mighty!
Woe to ye of the fasces and the purple! Woe to the idolater and the
worshipper of the beast! Woe to ye who pour forth the blood of saints,
and gloat over the death-pangs of the sons of God! Woe to the harlot of
the sea!--woe! woe!'
And with a loud and deep chorus, the troop chanted forth along the wild
horrors of the air, 'Woe to the harlot of the sea!--woe! woe!'
The Nazarenes paced slowly on, their torches still flickering in the
storm, their voices still raised in menace and solemn warning, till,
lost amid the windings in the streets, the darkness of the atmosphere
and the silence of death again fell over the scene.
There was one of the frequent pauses in the showers, and Glaucus
encouraged Ione once more to proceed. Just as they stood, hesitating,
on the last step of the portico, an old man, with a bag in his right
hand and leaning upon a youth, tottered by. The youth bore a torch.
Glaucus recognized the two as father and son--miser and prodigal.
'Father,' said the youth, 'if you cannot move more swiftly, I must leave
you, or we both perish!'
'Fly, boy, then, and leave thy sire!'
'But I cannot fly to starve; give me thy bag of gold!' And the youth
snatched at it.
'Wretch! wouldst thou rob thy father?'
'Ay! who can tell the tale in this hour? Miser, perish!'
The boy struck the old man to the ground, plucked the bag from his
relaxing hand, and fled onward with a shrill yell.
'Ye gods!' cried Glaucus: 'are ye blind, then, even in the dark? Such
crimes may well confound the guiltless with the guilty in one common
ruin. Ione, on!--on!'
Chapter VIII
ARBACES ENCOUNTERS GLAUCUS AND IONE.
ADVANCING, as men grope for escape in a dungeon, Ione and her lover
continued their uncertain way. At the moments when the volcanic
lightnings lingered over the streets, they were enabled, by that awful
light, to steer and guide their progress: yet, little did the view it
presented to them cheer or encourage their path. In parts, where the
ashes lay dry and uncommixed with the boiling torrents, cast upward from
the mountain at capricious intervals, the surface of the earth presented
a leprous and ghastly white. In other places, cinder and rock lay
matted in heaps, from beneath which emerged the half-hid limbs of some
crushed and mangled fugitive. The groans of the dying were broken by
wild shrieks of women's terror--now near, now distant--which, when heard
in the utter darkness, were rendered doubly appalling by the crushing
sense of helplessness and the uncertainty of the perils around; and
clear and distinct through all were the mighty and various noises from
the Fatal Mountain; its rushing winds; its whirling torrents; and, from
time to time, the burst and roar of some more fiery and fierce
explosion. And ever as the winds swept howling along the street, they
bore sharp streams of burning dust, and such sickening and poisonous
vapors, as took away, for the instant, breath and consciousness,
followed by a rapid revulsion of the arrested blood, and a tingling
sensation of agony trembling through every nerve and fibre of the frame.
'Oh, Glaucus! my beloved! my own!--take me to thy arms! One embrace!
let me feel thy arms around me--and in that embrace let me die--I can no
more!'
'For my sake, for my life--courage, yet, sweet Ione--my life is linked
with thine: and see--torches--this way! Lo! how they brave the Wind!
Ha! they live through the storm--doubtless, fugitives to the sea! we
will join them.'
As if to aid and reanimate the lovers, the winds and showers came to a
sudden pause; the atmosphere was profoundly still--the mountain seemed
at rest, gathering, perhaps, fresh fury for its next burst; the
torch-bearers moved quickly on. 'We are nearing the sea,' said, in a
calm voice, the person at their head. 'Liberty and wealth to each slave
who survives this day! Courage! I tell you that the gods themselves
have assured me of deliverance. On!'
Redly and steadily the torches flashed full on the eyes of Glaucus and
Ione, who lay trembling and exhausted on his bosom. Several slaves were
bearing, by the light, panniers and coffers, heavily laden; in front of
them--a drawn sword in his hand--towered the lofty form of Arbaces.
'By my fathers!' cried the Egyptian, 'Fate smiles upon me even through
these horrors, and, amidst the dreadest aspects of woe and death, bodes
me happiness and love. Away, Greek! I claim my ward, Ione!'
'Traitor and murderer!' cried Glaucus, glaring upon his foe, 'Nemesis
hath guided thee to my revenge!--a just sacrifice to the shades of
Hades, that now seem loosed on earth. Approach--touch but the hand of
Ione, and thy weapon shall be as a reed--I will tear thee limb from
limb!'
Suddenly, as he spoke, the place became lighted with an intense and
lurid glow. Bright and gigantic through the darkness, which closed
around it like the walls of hell, the mountain shone--a pile of fire!
Its summit seemed riven in two; or rather, above its surface there
seemed to rise two monster shapes, each confronting each, as Demons
contending for a world. These were of one deep blood-red hue of fire,
which lighted up the whole atmosphere far and wide; but, below, the
nether part of the mountain was still dark and shrouded, save in three
places, adown which flowed, serpentine and irregular, rivers of the
molten lava. Darkly red through the profound gloom of their banks, they
flowed slowly on, as towards the devoted city. Over the broadest there
seemed to spring a cragged and stupendous arch, from which, as from the
jaws of hell, gushed the sources of the sudden Phlegethon. And through
the stilled air was heard the rattling of the fragments of rock,
hurtling one upon another as they were borne down the fiery
cataracts--darkening, for one instant, the spot where they fell, and
suffused the next, in the burnished hues of the flood along which they
floated!
The slaves shrieked aloud, and, cowering, hid their faces. The Egyptian
himself stood transfixed to the spot, the glow lighting up his
commanding features and jewelled robes. High behind him rose a tall
column that supported the bronze statue of Augustus; and the imperial
image seemed changed to a shape of fire!
With his left hand circled round the form of Ione--with his right arm
raised in menace, and grasping the stilus which was to have been his
weapon in the arena, and which he still fortunately bore about him, with
his brow knit, his lips apart, the wrath and menace of human passions
arrested as by a charm, upon his features, Glaucus fronted the Egyptian!
Arbaces turned his eyes from the mountain--they rested on the form of
Glaucus! He paused a moment: 'Why,' he muttered, 'should I hesitate?
Did not the stars foretell the only crisis of imminent peril to which I
was subjected?--Is not that peril past?'
'The soul,' cried he aloud, 'can brave the wreck of worlds and the wrath
