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[page 333, column 1, continued:]
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Four Beasts in One —
The Homo-Cameleopard.
——
| Chacun a ses vertus.
Crébillon's Xerxes.
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ANTIOCHUS EPIPHANES
is very generally looked upon as the
Gog of the
prophet Ezekiel. This honor is, however, more properly attributable to
Cambyses, the son of Cyrus. And, indeed, the character of the Syrian
monarch
does by no means stand in need of any adventitious embellishment. His
accession
to the throne, or rather his usurpation of the sovereignty, a hundred
and
seventy-one years before the coming of Christ; his attempt to plunder
the
temple of Diana at Ephesus; his implacable hostility to the Jews; his
pollution
of the Holy of Holies; and his miserable death at Taba, after a
tumultuous
reign of eleven years, are circumstances of a prominent kind, and
therefore
more generally noticed by the historians of his time, than the impious,
dastardly, cruel, silly, and whimsical achievments [[achievements]]
which make up the
sum
total of his private life and reputation.
Let us suppose, gentle reader, that it is now the
year [column 2:] of the world
three thousand eight hundred and thirty, and let us, for a few minutes,
imagine ourselves at that most grotesque habitation of man, the
remarkable
city of Antioch. To be sure there were, in Syria and other countries,
sixteen
cities of that appellation, besides the one to which I more
particularly
allude. But ours is that which went by the name of Antiochia
Epidaphne,
from its vicinity to the little village of Daphne, where stood a temple
to that divinity. It was built (although about this matter there is
some
dispute) by Seleucus Nicanor, the first king of the country after
Alexander
the Great, in memory of his father Antiochus, and became immediately
the
residence of the Syrian monarchy. In the flourishing times of the Roman
Empire, it was the ordinary station of the prefect of the eastern
provinces;
and many of the emperors of the queen city, (among whom may be
mentioned
especially, Verus and Valens,) spent here the greater part of their
time.
But I perceive we have arrived at the city itself. Let us ascend this
battlement,
and throw our eyes upon the town and neighboring country.
"What broad and rapid river is that which forces its
way, with
innumerable
falls, through the mountainous wilderness, and finally through the
wilderness
of buildings?"
That is the Orontes, and it is the only water in
sight,
with the
exception
of the Mediterranean, which stretches like a broad mirror, about
twelve
miles off to the southward. Every one has seen the Mediterranean; but
let
me tell you, there are few who have had a peep at Antioch. By few, I
mean,
few who, like you and me, have had, at the same time, the advantages of
a modern education. Therefore cease to regard that sea, and give your
whole
attention to the mass of houses that lie beneath us. You will remember
that it is now the year of the world three thousand eight hundred and
thirty.
Were it later — for example, were it the year of our Lord eighteen
hundred
and forty-five, we should be deprived of this extraordinary spectacle.
In the nineteenth century Antioch is — that is to say, Antioch will
be
— in a lamentable state of decay. It will have been, by that time,
totally
destroyed, at three different periods, by three successive earthquakes.
Indeed, to say the truth, what little of its former self may then
remain,
will be found in so desolate and ruinous a state that the patriarch
shall
have removed his residence to Damascus. This is well. I see you profit
by my advice, and are making the most of your time in inspecting the
premises — in
——— satisfying your eyes
With the memorials and the things of fame
That most renown this city. ——
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I beg pardon; I had forgotten that Shakspeare will not
flourish for
seventeen hundred and fifty years to come. But does not the appearance
of Epidaphne justify me in calling it grotesque?
"It is well fortified; and in this respect is
as much
indebted to
nature
as to art."
Very true.
"There are a prodigious number of stately palaces."
There are.
"And the numerous temples, sumptuous and
magnificent,
may bear
comparison
with the most lauded of antiquity."
All this I must acknowledge. Still there is an
infinity
of mud huts,
and abominable hovels. We cannot help perceiving abundance of filth in
every kennel, and, were it not for the overpowering fumes of
idolatrous
incense, [page 334:] I have no doubt we should find a most
intolerable stench. Did
you ever behold streets so insufferably narrow, or houses so
miraculously
tall? What gloom their shadows cast upon the ground! It is well the
swinging
lamps in those endless colonnades are kept burning throughout the day;
we should otherwise have the darkness of Egypt in the time of her
desolation.
"It is certainly a strange place! What is the
meaning of
yonder
singular
building? See! it towers above all others, and lies to the eastward of
what I take to be the royal palace!"
That is the new Temple of the Sun, who is adored in
Syria under the
title of Elah Gabalah. Hereafter a very notorious Roman Emperor will
institute
this worship in Rome, and thence derive a cognomen, Heliogabalus. I
dare
say you would like to take a peep at the divinity of the temple. You
need
not look up at the heavens; his Sunship is not there — at least not
the
Sunship adored by the Syrians. That deity will be found in the
interior
of yonder building. He is worshipped under the figure of a large stone
pillar terminating at the summit in a cone or pyramid, whereby
is
denoted
Fire.
"Hark! — behold! — who can those ridiculous
beings
be,
half naked,
with their faces painted, shouting and gesticulating to the rabble?"
Some few are mountebanks. Others more particularly
belong to the
race
of philosophers. The greatest portion, however — those especially who
belabor the populace with clubs — are the principal
courtiers of the
palace,
executing as in duty bound, some laudable comicality of the king's.
"But what have we here? Heavens! the town is
swarming
with wild
beasts!
How terrible a spectacle! — how dangerous a peculiarity!"
Terrible, if you please; but not in the least degree
dangerous. Each
animal, if you will take the pains to observe, is following, very
quietly,
in the wake of its master. Some few, to be sure, are led with a rope
about
the neck, but these are chiefly the lesser or timid species. The lion,
the tiger, and the leopard are entirely without restraint. They have
been
trained without difficulty to their present profession, and attend upon
their respective owners in the capacity of valets-de-chambre.
It is
true,
there are occasions when Nature asserts her violated dominion; — but
then the devouring of a man-at-arms, or the throttling of a consecrated
bull, is a circumstance of too little moment to be more than hinted at
in Epidaphne.
"But what extraordinary tumult do I hear? Surely
this is
a loud
noise
even for Antioch! It argues some commotion of unusual interest."
Yes — undoubtedly. The king has ordered some novel
spectacle —
some
gladiatorial exhibition at the Hippodrome [[hippodrome]] — or perhaps
the massacre of
the Scythian prisoners — or the conflagration of his new palace — or
the tearing down of a handsome temple — or, indeed, a bonfire of a few
Jews. The uproar increases. Shouts of laughter ascend the skies. The
air
becomes dissonant with wind instruments, and horrible with the clamor
of a
million throats. Let us descend, for the love of fun, and see what is
going
on! This way — be careful! Here we are in the principal street, which
is called the street of Timarchus. The sea of people is coming this
way,
and we shall find a difficulty in stemming the tide. They are pouring
through
the alley of Heraclides, which leads directly from the palace —
therefore
the king is most probably among the rioters. Yes — I hear the shouts
of the herald proclaiming his approach in the pompous phraseology [column
2:] of
the
East. We shall have a glimpse of his person as he passes by the temple
of Ashimah. Let us ensconce ourselves in the vestibule of the
sanctuary;
he will be here anon. In the meantime let us survey this image. What is
it? Oh, it is the god Ashimah in proper person. You perceive, however,
that he is neither a lamb, nor a goat, nor a satyr; neither has he much
resemblance to the Pan of the Arcadians. Yet all these appearances have
been given — I beg pardon — will be given — by the learned of
future
ages, to the Ashimah of the Syrians. Put on your spectacles, and tell
me
what it is. What is it?
"Bless me! it is an ape!"
True — a baboon; but by no means the less a deity.
His
name is a
derivation
of the Greek Simia — what great fools are antiquarians! But
see! —
see! — yonder scampers a ragged little urchin. Where is he going? What
is
he
bawling about? What does he say? Oh! he says the king is coming in
triumph;
that he is dressed in state; that he has just finished putting to
death,
with his own hand, a thousand chained Israelitish prisoners! For this
exploit
the ragamuffin is lauding him to the skies! Hark! here comes a troop of
a similar description. They have made a Latin hymn upon the valor of
the
king, and are singing it as they go:
Mille, mille,
mille,
Mille, mille, mille,
Decollavimus, unus homo!
Mille, mille, mille, mille, decollavimus!
Mille, mille, mille,
Vivat qui mille mille occidit!
Tantum vini habet nemo
Quantum sanguinis effudit!*
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Which may be thus paraphrased:
A thousand, a thousand, a thousand,
A thousand, a thousand, a
thousand,
We, with one warrior, have slain!
A thousand, a thousand, a thousand, a thousand,
Sing a thousand over again!
Soho! — let us sing
Long life to our king,
Who knocked over a thousand
so fine!
Soho! — let us roar,
He has given us more
Red gallons of gore
Than all Syria can furnish
of wine!
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"Do you hear that flourish of trumpets?"
Yes — the king is coming! See! the people are aghast
with
admiration,
and lift up their eyes to the heavens in reverence! He comes! — he is
coming! — there he is!
"Who? — where? — the king? — I do not behold him; —
cannot say that
I perceive him."
Then you must be blind.
"Very possible. Still I see nothing but a tumultuous
mob
of idiots
and
madmen, who are busy in prostrating themselves before a gigantic
cameleopard,
and endeavoring to obtain a kiss of the animal's hoofs. See! the beast
has very justly kicked one of the rabble over — and another — and
another — and another. Indeed, I cannot help admiring the animal for
the
excellent
use he is making of his feet."
Rabble, indeed! — why these are the noble and free
citizens of
Epidaphne!
Beast, did you say? — take care [page 335:] that you are not
overheard. Do you
not
perceive that the animal has the visage of a man? Why, my dear sir,
that
cameleopard is no other than Antiochus Epiphanes, Antiochus the
Illustrious,
King of Syria, and the most potent of all the autocrats of the East! It
is true, that he is entitled, at times, Antiochus Epimanes — Antiochus
the madman — but that is because all people have not the capacity to
appreciate
his merits. It is also certain that he is at present ensconced in the
hide
of a beast, and is doing his best to play the part of a cameleopard;
but
this is done for the better sustaining his dignity as king. Besides,
the
monarch is of gigantic stature, and the dress is therefore neither
unbecoming
nor over large. We may, however, presume he would not have adopted it
but
for some occasion of especial state. Such, you will allow, is the
massacre
of a thousand Jews. With how superior a dignity the monarch
perambulates
on all fours! His tail, you perceive, is held aloft by his two
principal
concubines, Elline and Argelais; and his whole appearance would be
infinitely
prepossessing, were it not for the protuberance of his eyes, which will
certainly start out of his head, and the queer
color of his face, which
has become nondescript from the quantity of wine he has swallowed. Let
us follow him to the hippodrome, whither he is proceeding, and listen
to
the song of triumph which he is commencing:
Who is king
but Epiphanes?
Say — do you know?
Who is king but Epiphanes?
Bravo! — bravo!
There is none but Epiphanes,
No — there is none:
So tear down the temples,
And put out the sun!
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Well and strenuously sung! The populace are hailing
him "Prince of
Poets,"
as well as "Glory of the East," "Delight of the Universe," and "most
temarkable
of Cameleopards." They have encored his effusion, and — do you
hear? —
he
is singing it over again. When he arrives at the hippodrome, he will be
crowned with the poetic wreath, in anticipation of his victory at the
approaching
Olympics.
"But, good Jupiter! what is the matter in the crowd
behind us?"
Behind us, did you say? — oh! ah! — I perceive. My
friend, it is
well
that you spoke in time. Let us get into a place of safety as soon as
possible.
Here! — let us conceal ourselves in the arch of this aqueduct, and I
will
inform you presently of the origin of the commotion. It has turned out
as I have been anticipating. The singular appearance of the cameleopard
with the head of a man, has, it seems, given offence to the notions of
propriety
entertained in general, by the wild animals domesticated in the city.
A mutiny has been the result; and, as is usual upon such occasions, all
human efforts will be of no avail in quelling the mob. Several of the
Syrians
have already been devoured; but the general voice of the four-footed
patriots
seems to be for eating up the cameleopard. "The Prince of Poets,"
therefore,
is upon his hinder legs, running for his life. His courtiers have left
him in the lurch, and his concubines have followed so excellent an
example. "Delight of the Universe," thou art in a sad predicament!
"Glory of the
East," thou art in danger of mastication! Therefore
never regard so
piteously
thy tail; it will undoubtedly be draggled in the mud, and for this
there
is no help. Look not behind thee, then, at its unavoidable degradation;
but take courage, ply thy legs with vigor, and scud for the hippodrome!
[column 2:] Remember that thou art Antiochus
Epiphanes. Antiochus the Illustrious!
— also "Prince of Poets," "Glory of the East," "Delight of the
Universe,"
and "most Remarkable of Cameleopards!" Heavens! what a power of speed
thou
art displaying! What a capacity for leg-bail thou art developing! Run,
Prince! — Bravo, Epiphanes! Well done, Cameleopard! — Glorious
Antiochus! — He runs! — he leaps! — he flies! Like an arrow from a
catapult he
approaches the hippodrome! He leaps! — he shrieks! — he is there!
This
is well; for hadst thou, 'Glory of the East,' been half a second longer
in reaching the gates of the Amphitheatre, there is not a bear's cub in
Epidaphne that would not have had a nibble at thy carcase. Let us be
off — let us take our departure! — for we shall find our delicate
modern
ears unable to endure the vast uproar which is about to commence in
celebration
of the king's escape! Listen! it has already commenced. See! — the
whole
town is topsy-turvy.
"Surely this is the most populous city of the East!
What
a
wilderness
of people! what a jumble of all ranks and ages! what a multiplicity of
sects and nations! what a variety of costumes! what a Babel of
languages!
what a screaming of beasts! what a tinkling of instruments! what a
parcel
of philosophers!"
Come let us be off!
"Stay a moment! I see a vast hubbub in the
hippodrome;
what is the
meaning
of it I beseech you?"
That? — oh, nothing! The noble and free citizens of
Epidaphne
being,
as they declare, well satisfied of the faith, valor, wisdom, and
divinity
of their king, and having, moreover, been eye-witnesses of his late
superhuman
agility, do think it no more than their duty to invest his brows (in
addition
to the poetic crown) with the wreath of victory in the foot-race — a
wreath
which it is evident he must obtain at the celebration of the
next
Olympiad,
and which, therefore, they now give him in advance. |
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