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[page 110:]
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THE
CONVERSATION OF EIROS AND CHARMION.
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[[Greek Text:]] Πυρ σοι προσισω
[[:Greek Text]]
I will bring fire to thee.
Euripides — Androm:
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EIROS.
WHY do you call me Eiros?
CHARMION
So henceforward will you always be called. You must
forget, too, my earthly name, and speak to me as Charmion.
EIROS.
This is indeed no dream!
CHARMION.
Dreams are with us no more; — but of these mysteries
anon. I rejoice to see you looking life-like and rational. The film of
the shadow has already passed from off your eyes. Be of heart, and fear
nothing. Your allotted days of stupor have expired; and, to-morrow, I
will
myself induct you into the full joys and wonders of your novel
existence.
EIROS.
True — I feel no stupor — none at all. The wild
sickness
and the terrible darkness have left me, and I hear no longer that mad,
rushing, horrible sound, like the "voice of many waters." Yet my senses
are bewildered, Charmion, with the keenness of their perception of the
new.
CHARMION.
A few days will remove all this; — but I fully
understand
you, and feel for you. It is now ten earthly years since I underwent [page
111:] what you undergo — yet the remembrance of it hangs by
me still. You have now suffered all of pain, however, which you will
suffer
in Aidenn.
EIROS.
In Aidenn?
CHARMION.
In Aidenn.
EIROS.
Oh God! — pity me, Charmion! — I am overburthened
with
the majesty of all things — of the unknown now known — of the
speculative
Future merged in the august and certain Present.
CHARMION.
Grapple not now with such thoughts. To-morrow we
will
speak of this. Your mind wavers, and its agitation will find relief in
the exercise of simple memories. Look not around, nor forward — but
back.
I am burning with anxiety to hear the details of that stupendous event
which threw you among us. Tell me of it. Let us converse of familiar
things,
in the old familiar language of the world which has so fearfully
perished.
EIROS.
Most fearfully, fearfully! — this is indeed no
dream.
CHARMION.
Dreams are no more. Was I much mourned, my Eiros?
EIROS.
Mourned, Charmion? — oh deeply. To that last hour of
all, there hung a cloud of intense gloom and devout sorrow over your
household.
CHARMION.
And that last hour — speak of it. Remember that,
beyond
the naked fact of the catastrophe itself, I know nothing. When, coming
out from among mankind, I passed into Night through the Grave — at that
period, if I remember aright, the calamity which overwhelmed you was
utterly
unanticipated. But, indeed, I knew little of the speculative philosophy
of the day.
EIROS.
The individual calamity was, as you say, entirely
unanticipated; [page
112:] but analogous misfortunes had been long a subject of
discussion
with astronomers. I need scarce tell you, my friend, that, even when
you
left us, men had agreed to understand those passages in the most holy
writings
which speak of the final destruction of all things by fire, as having
reference
to the orb of the earth alone. But in regard to the immediate agency of
the ruin, speculation had been at fault from that epoch in astronomical
knowledge in which the comets were divested of the terrors of flame.
The
very moderate density of these bodies had been well established. They
had
been observed to pass among the satellites of Jupiter, without bringing
about any sensible alteration either in the masses or in the orbits of
these secondary planets. We had long regarded the wanderers as vapory
creations
of inconceivable tenuity, and as altogether incapable of doing injury
to
our substantial globe, even in the event of contact. But contact was
not
in any degree dreaded; for the elements of all the comets were
accurately
known. That among them we should look for the agency of the
threatened
fiery destruction had been for many years considered an inadmissible
idea.
But wonders and wild fancies had been, of late days, strangely rife
among
mankind; and, although it was only with a few of the ignorant that
actual
apprehension prevailed, upon the announcement by astronomers of a new
comet, yet this announcement was generally received with I know not
what
of agitation and mistrust.
The elements of the strange orb were
immediately
calculated, and it was at once conceded by all observers, that its
path,
at perihelion, would bring it into very close proximity with the earth.
There were two or three astronomers, of secondary note, who resolutely
maintained that a contact was inevitable. I cannot very well express to
you the effect of this intelligence upon the people. For a few short
days
they would not believe an assertion which their intellect, so long
employed
among worldly considerations, could not in any manner grasp. But the
truth
of a vitally important fact soon makes its way into the understanding
of
even the most stolid. Finally, all men saw that astronomical knowledge
lied not, and they awaited the comet. Its approach was not, at first,
seemingly
rapid; nor was its appearance of [page 113:] very
unusual
character. It was of a dull red, and had little perceptible train. For
seven or eight days we saw no material increase in its apparent
diameter,
and but a partial alteration in its color. Meantime, the ordinary
affairs
of men were discarded, and all interests absorbed in a growing
discussion,
instituted by the philosophic, in respect to the cometary nature. Even
the grossly ignorant aroused their sluggish capacities to such
considerations.
The learned now gave their intellect — their soul — to no such
points
as the allaying of fear, or to the sustenance of loved theory. They
sought
— they panted for right views. They groaned for perfected knowledge. Truth
arose in the purity of her strength and exceeding majesty, and the wise
bowed down and adored.
That material injury to our globe or
to its
inhabitants
would result from the apprehended contact, was an opinion which hourly
lost ground among the wise; and the wise were now freely permitted to
rule
the reason and the fancy of the crowd. It was demonstrated, that the
density
of the comet's nucleus was far less than that of our rarest
gas;
and the harmless passage of a similar visitor among the satellites of
Jupiter
was a point strongly insisted upon, and which served greatly to allay
terror.
Theologists, with an earnestness fear-enkindled, dwelt upon the
biblical
prophecies, and expounded them to the people with a directness and
simplicity
of which no previous instance had been known. That the final
destruction
of the earth must be brought about by the agency of fire, was urged
with
a spirit that enforced every where conviction; and that the comets were
of no fiery nature (as all men now knew) was a truth which relieved
all,
in a great measure, from the apprehension of the great calamity
foretold.
It is noticeable that the popular prejudices and vulgar errors in
regard
to pestilences and wars — errors which were wont to prevail upon every
appearance of a comet — were now altogether unknown. As if by some
sudden
convulsive exertion, reason had at once hurled superstition from her
throne.
The feeblest intellect had derived vigor from excessive interest.
What minor evils might arise from the
contact
were
points of elaborate question. The learned spoke of slight geological
disturbances,
of probable alterations in climate, and consequently in vegetation; of
possible magnetic and electric influences. Many [page 114:]
held that no visible or perceptible effect would in any manner be
produced.
While such discussions were going on, their subject gradually
approached,
growing larger in apparent diameter, and of a more brilliant lustre.
Mankind
grew paler as it came. All human operations were suspended.
There was an epoch in the course of
the general
sentiment
when the comet had attained, at length, a size surpassing that of any
previously
recorded visitation. The people now, dismissing any lingering hope that
the astronomers were wrong, experienced all the certainty of evil. The
chimerical aspect of their terror was gone. The hearts of the stoutest
of our race beat violently within their bosoms. A very few days
sufficed,
however, to merge even such feelings in sentiments more unendurable. We
could no longer apply to the strange orb any accustomed
thoughts.
Its historical attributes had disappeared. It oppressed us with
a hideous novelty of emotion. We saw it not as an astronomical
phenomenon
in the heavens, but as an incubus upon our hearts, and a shadow upon
our
brains. It had taken, with inconceivable rapidity, the character of a
gigantic
mantle of rare flame, extending from horizon to horizon.
Yet a day, and men breathed with
greater freedom.
It was clear that we were already within the influence of the comet;
yet
we lived. We even felt an unusual elasticity of frame and vivacity of
mind.
The exceeding tenuity of the object of our dread was apparent; for all
heavenly objects were plainly visible through it. Meantime, our
vegetation
had perceptibly altered; and we gained faith, from this predicted
circumstance,
in the foresight of the wise. A wild luxuriance of foliage, utterly
unknown
before, burst out upon every vegetable thing.
Yet another day — and the evil was
not altogether
upon us. It was now evident that its nucleus would first reach us. A
wild
change had come over all men; and the first sense of pain was
the
wild signal for general lamentation and horror. This first sense of
pain
lay in a rigorous constriction of the breast and lungs, and an
insufferable
dryness of the skin. It could not be denied that our atmosphere was
radically
affected; the conformation of this atmosphere and the possible
modifications
to which it might be subjected, were now the topics of discussion. The
result [page 115:] of investigation sent an
electric
thrill of the intensest terror through the universal heart of man.
It had been long known that the air
which
encircled
us was a compound of oxygen and nitrogen gases, in the proportion of
twenty-one
measures of oxygen, and seventy-nine of nitrogen, in every one hundred
of the atmosphere. Oxygen, which was the principle of combustion, and
the
vehicle of heat, was absolutely necessary to the support of animal
life,
and was the most powerful and energetic agent in nature. Nitrogen, on
the
contrary, was incapable of supporting either animal life or flame. An
unnatural
excess of oxygen would result, it had been ascertained, in just such an
elevation of the animal spirits as we had latterly experienced. It was
the pursuit, the extension of the idea, which had engendered awe. What
would be the result of a total extraction of the nitrogen? A
combustion
irresistible, all-devouring, omni-prevalent, immediate; — the entire
fulfilment,
in all their minute and terrible details, of the fiery and
horror-inspiring
denunciations of the prophecies of the Holy Book.
Why need I paint, Charmion, the now disenchained
frenzy of mankind? That tenuity in the comet which had previously
inspired
us with hope, was now the source of the bitterness of despair. In its
impalpable
gaseous character we clearly perceived the consummation of Fate.
Meantime
a day again passed — bearing away with it the last shadow of Hope. We
gasped
in the rapid modification of the air. The red blood bounded
tumultuously
through its strict channels. A furious delirium possessed all men; and,
with arms rigidly outstretched towards the threatening heavens, they
trembled
and shrieked aloud. But the nucleus of the destroyer was now upon us; —
even here in Aidenn, I shudder while I speak. Let me be brief — brief
as
the ruin that overwhelmed. For a moment there was a wild lurid light
alone,
visiting and penetrating all things. Then — let us bow down, Charmion,
before the excessive majesty of the great God! — then, there came a
shouting
and pervading sound, as if from the mouth itself of HIM;
while the whole incumbent mass of ether in which we existed, burst at
once
into a species of intense flame, for whose surpassing brilliancy and
all-fervid
heat even the angels in the high Heaven of pure knowledge have no name.
Thus ended all. |
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