The Last Days of Pompeii

by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton

  Chapter IVTHE AMPHITHEATRE ONCE MORE.

  GLAUCUS and Olinthus had been placed together in that gloomy and narrowcell in which the criminals of the arena awaited their last and fearfulstruggle. Their eyes, of late accustomed to the darkness, scanned thefaces of each other in this awful hour, and by that dim light, thepaleness, which chased away the natural hues from either cheek, assumeda yet more ashy and ghastly whiteness. Yet their brows were erect anddauntless--their limbs did not tremble--their lips were compressed andrigid. The religion of the one, the pride of the other, the consciousinnocence of both, and, it may be, the support derived from their mutualcompanionship, elevated the victim into the hero.

  'Hark! hearest thou that shout They are growling over their humanblood,' said Olinthus.

  'I hear; my heart grows sick; but the gods support me.'

  'The gods! O rash young man! in this hour recognize only the One God.Have I not taught thee in the dungeon, wept for thee, prayed forthee?--in my zeal and in my agony, have I not thought more of thysalvation than my own?'

  'Brave friend!' answered Glaucus, solemnly, 'I have listened to theewith awe, with wonder, and with a secret tendency towards conviction.Had our lives been spared, I might gradually have weaned myself from thetenets of my own faith, and inclined to thine; but, in this last hour itwere a craven thing, and a base, to yield to hasty terror what shouldonly be the result of lengthened meditation. Were I to embrace thycreed, and cast down my father's gods, should I not be bribed by thypromise of heaven, or awed by thy threats of hell? Olinthus, no! Thinkwe of each other with equal charity--I honoring thy sincerity--thoupitying my blindness or my obdurate courage. As have been my deeds,such will be my reward; and the Power or Powers above will not judgeharshly of human error, when it is linked with honesty of purpose andtruth of heart. Speak we no more of this. Hush! Dost thou hear themdrag yon heavy body through the passage? Such as that clay will be ourssoon.'

  'O Heaven! O Christ! already I behold ye!' cried the fervent Olinthus,lifting up his hands; 'I tremble not--I rejoice that the prison-houseshall be soon broken.'

  Glaucus bowed his head in silence. He felt the distinction between hisfortitude and that of his fellow-sufferer. The heathen did not tremble;but the Christian exulted.

  The door swung gratingly back--the gleam of spears shot along the walls.

  'Glaucus the Athenian, thy time has come,' said a loud and clear voice;'the lion awaits thee.'

  'I am ready,' said the Athenian. 'Brother and co-mate, one lastembrace! Bless me--and farewell!'

  The Christian opened his arms--he clasped the young heathen to hisbreast--he kissed his forehead and cheek--he sobbed aloud--his tearsflowed fast and hot over the features of his new friend.

  'Oh! could I have converted thee, I had not wept. Oh! that I might sayto thee, "We two shall sup this night in Paradise!"'

  'It may be so yet,' answered the Greek, with a tremulous voice. 'Theywhom death part not, may meet yet beyond the grave: on the earth--on thebeautiful, the beloved earth, farewell for ever!--Worthy officer, Iattend you.'

  Glaucus tore himself away; and when he came forth into the air, itsbreath, which, though sunless, was hot and arid, smote witheringly uponhim. His frame, not yet restored from the effects of the deadlydraught, shrank and trembled. The officers supported him.

  'Courage!' said one; 'thou art young, active, well knit. They give theea weapon! despair not, and thou mayst yet conquer.'

  Glaucus did not reply; but, ashamed of his infirmity, he made adesperate and convulsive effort, and regained the firmness of hisnerves. They anointed his body, completely naked, save by a cinctureround the loins, placed the stilus (vain weapon!) in his hand, and ledhim into the arena.

  And now when the Greek saw the eyes of thousands and tens of thousandsupon him, he no longer felt that he was mortal. All evidence offear--all fear itself--was gone. A red and haughty flush spread overthe paleness of his features--he towered aloft to the full of hisglorious stature. In the elastic beauty of his limbs and form, in hisintent but unfrowning brow, in the high disdain, and in the indomitablesoul, which breathed visibly, which spoke audibly, from his attitude,his lip, his eye--he seemed the very incarnation, vivid and corporeal,of the valor of his land--of the divinity of its worship--at once a heroand a god!

  The murmur of hatred and horror at his crime, which had greeted hisentrance, died into the silence of involuntary admiration andhalf-compassionate respect; and with a quick and convulsive sigh, thatseemed to move the whole mass of life as if it were one body, the gazeof the spectators turned from the Athenian to a dark uncouth object inthe centre of the arena. It was the grated den of the lion!

  'By Venus, how warm it is!' said Fulvia; 'yet there is no sun. Wouldthat those stupid sailors could have fastened up that gap in theawning!'

  'Oh! it is warm, indeed. I turn sick--I faint!' said the wife of Pansa;even her experienced stoicism giving way at the struggle about to takeplace.

  The lion had been kept without food for twenty-four hours, and theanimal had, during the whole morning, testified a singular and restlessuneasiness, which the keeper had attributed to the pangs of hunger. Yetits bearing seemed rather that of fear than of rage; its roar waspainful and distressed; it hung its head--snuffed the air through thebars--then lay down--started again--and again uttered its wild andfar-resounding cries. And now, in its den, it lay utterly dumb and mute,with distended nostrils forced hard against the grating, and disturbingwith a heaving breath, the sand below on the arena.

  The editor's lip quivered, and his cheek grew pale; he looked anxiouslyaround--hesitated--delayed; the crowd became impatient. Slowly he gavethe sign; the keeper, who was behind the den, cautiously removed thegrating, and the lion leaped forth with a mighty and glad roar ofrelease. The keeper hastily retreated through the grated passageleading from the arena, and left the lord of the forest--and his prey.

  Glaucus had bent his limbs so as to give himself the firmest posture atthe expected rush of the lion, with his small and shining weapon raisedon high, in the faint hope that one well-directed thrust (for he knewthat he should have time but for one) might penetrate through the eye tothe brain of his grim foe.

  But, to the unutterable astonishment of all, the beast seemed not evenaware of the presence of the criminal.

  At the first moment of its release it halted abruptly in the arena,raised itself half on end, snuffing the upward air with impatient sighs;then suddenly it sprang forward, but not on the Athenian. At half-speedit circled round and round the space, turning its vast head from side toside with an anxious and perturbed gaze, as if seeking only some avenueof escape; once or twice it endeavored to leap up the parapet thatdivided it from the audience, and, on failing, uttered rather a baffledhowl than its deep-toned and kingly roar. It evinced no sign, either ofwrath or hunger; its tail drooped along the sand, instead of lashing itsgaunt sides; and its eye, though it wandered at times to Glaucus, rolledagain listlessly from him. At length, as if tired of attempting toescape, it crept with a moan into its cage, and once more laid itselfdown to rest.

  The first surprise of the assembly at the apathy of the lion soon grewconverted into resentment at its cowardice; and the populace alreadymerged their pity for the fate of Glaucus into angry compassion fortheir own disappointment.

  The editor called to the keeper.

  'How is this? Take the goad, prick him forth, and then close the doorof the den.'

  As the keeper, with some fear, but more astonishment, was preparing toobey, a loud cry was heard at one of the entrances of the arena; therewas a confusion, a bustle--voices of remonstrance suddenly breakingforth, and suddenly silenced at the reply. All eyes turned in wonder atthe interruption, towards the quarter of the disturbance; the crowd gaveway, and suddenly Sallust appeared on the senatorial benches, his hairdisheveled--breathless--heated--half-exhausted. He cast his eyeshastily round the ring. 'Remove the Athenian,' he cried; 'haste--he isinnocent! Arrest Arbaces the Egyptian--HE is t
he murderer of Apaecides!'

  'Art thou mad, O Sallust!' said the praetor, rising from his seat. 'Whatmeans this raving?'

  'Remove the Athenian!--Quick! or his blood be on your head. Praetor,delay, and you answer with your own life to the emperor! I bring withme the eye-witness to the death of the priest Apaecides. Roomthere!--stand back!--give way! People of Pompeii, fix every eye uponArbaces--there he sits! Room there for the priest Calenus!'

  Pale, haggard, fresh from the jaws of famine and of death, his facefallen, his eyes dull as a vulture's, his broad frame gaunt as askeleton--Calenus was supported into the very row in which Arbaces sat.His releasers had given him sparingly of food; but the chief sustenancethat nerved his feeble limbs was revenge!

  'The priest Calenus!--Calenus!' cried the mob. 'Is it he? No--it is adead man?'

  'It is the priest Calenus,' said the praetor, gravely. 'What hast thouto say?'

  'Arbaces of Egypt is the murderer of Apaecides, the priest of Isis;these eyes saw him deal the blow. It is from the dungeon into which heplunged me--it is from the darkness and horror of a death byfamine--that the gods have raised me to proclaim his crime! Release theAthenian--he is innocent!'

  'It is for this, then, that the lion spared him. A miracle! a miracle!'cried Pansa.

  'A miracle; a miracle!' shouted the people; 'remove theAthenian--Arbaces to the lion!'

  And that shout echoed from hill to vale--from coast to sea--'Arbaces tothe lion!'

  Officers, remove the accused Glaucus--remove, but guard him yet,' saidthe praetor. 'The gods lavish their wonders upon this day.'

  As the praetor gave the word of release, there was a cry of joy--afemale voice--a child's voice--and it was of joy! It rang through theheart of the assembly with electric force--it, was touching, it washoly, that child's voice! And the populace echoed it back withsympathizing congratulation!

  'Silence!' said the grave praetor--'who is there?'

  'The blind girl--Nydia,' answered Sallust; 'it is her hand that hasraised Calenus from the grave, and delivered Glaucus from the lion.'

  'Of this hereafter,' said the praetor. 'Calenus, priest of Isis, thouaccusest Arbaces of the murder of Apaecides?'

  'I do.'

  'Thou didst behold the deed?'

  'Praetor--with these eyes...'

  'Enough at present--the details must be reserved for more suiting timeand place. Arbaces of Egypt, thou hearest the charge against thee--thouhast not yet spoken--what hast thou to say.

  The gaze of the crowd had been long riveted on Arbaces: but not untilthe confusion which he had betrayed at the first charge of Sallust andthe entrance of Calenus had subsided. At the shout, 'Arbaces to thelion!' he had indeed trembled, and the dark bronze of his cheek hadtaken a paler hue. But he had soon recovered his haughtiness andself-control. Proudly he returned the angry glare of the countless eyesaround him; and replying now to the question of the praetor, he said, inthat accent so peculiarly tranquil and commanding, which characterizedhis tones:

  'Praetor, this charge is so mad that it scarcely deserves reply. Myfirst accuser is the noble Sallust--the most intimate friend of Glaucus!my second is a priest; I revere his garb and calling--but, people ofPompeii! ye know somewhat of the character of Calenus--he is griping andgold-thirsty to a proverb; the witness of such men is to be bought!Praetor, I am innocent!'

  'Sallust,' said the magistrate, 'where found you Calenus?'

  'In the dungeons of Arbaces.'

  'Egyptian,' said the praetor, frowning, 'thou didst, then, dare toimprison a priest of the gods--and wherefore?'

  'Hear me,' answered Arbaces, rising calmly, but with agitation visiblein his face. 'This man came to threaten that he would make against methe charge he has now made, unless I would purchase his silence withhalf my fortune: I remonstrated--in vain. Peace there--let not thepriest interrupt me! Noble praetor--and ye, O people! I was a strangerin the land--I knew myself innocent of crime--but the witness of apriest against me might yet destroy me. In my perplexity I decoyed himto the cell whence he has been released, on pretence that it was thecoffer-house of my gold. I resolved to detain him there until the fateof 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 notacknowledge the equity of self-preservation? Were I guilty, why was thewitness of this priest silent at the trial?--then I had not detained orconcealed him. Why did he not proclaim my guilt when I proclaimed thatof Glaucus? Praetor, this needs an answer. For the rest, I throw myselfon your laws. I demand their protection. Remove hence the accused andthe accuser. I will willingly meet, and cheerfully abide by, thedecision of the legitimate tribunal. This is no place for furtherparley.'

  'He says right,' said the praetor. 'Ho! guards--remove Arbaces--guardCalenus! Sallust, we hold you responsible for your accusation. Let thesports be resumed.'

  'What!' cried Calenus, turning round to the people, 'shall Isis be thuscontemned? Shall the blood of Apaecides yet cry for vengeance? Shalljustice be delayed now, that it may be frustrated hereafter? Shall thelion be cheated of his lawful prey? A god! a god!--I feel the god rushto my lips! To the lion--to the lion with Arbaces!'

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

  'It is a god that inspires the holy man! To the lion with theEgyptian!'

  With that cry up sprang--on moved--thousands upon thousands! They rushedfrom the heights--they poured down in the direction of the Egyptian. Invain did the aedile command--in vain did the praetor lift his voice andproclaim the law. The people had been already rendered savage by theexhibition of blood--they thirsted for more--their superstition wasaided by their ferocity. Aroused--inflamed by the spectacle of theirvictims, they forgot the authority of their rulers. It was one of thosedread popular convulsions common to crowds wholly ignorant, half freeand half servile; and which the peculiar constitution of the Romanprovinces so frequently exhibited. The power of the praetor was as areed beneath the whirlwind; still, at his word the guards had drawnthemselves along the lower benches, on which the upper classes satseparate from the vulgar. They made but a feeble barrier--the waves ofthe human sea halted for a moment, to enable Arbaces to count the exactmoment of his doom! In despair, and in a terror which beat down evenpride, he glanced his eyes over the rolling and rushing crowd--when,right above them, through the wide chasm which had been left in thevelaria, he beheld a strange and awful apparition--he beheld--and hiscraft restored his courage!

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

  'Behold!' he shouted with a voice of thunder, which stilled the roar ofthe crowd; 'behold how the gods protect the guiltless! The fires of theavenging 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 ofVesuvius, in the form of a gigantic pine-tree; the trunk, blackness--thebranches, fire!--a fire that shifted and wavered in its hues with everymoment, now fiercely luminous, now of a dull and dying red, that againblazed terrifically forth with intolerable glare!

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

  Then there arose on high the universal shrieks of women; the men staredat each other, but were dumb. At that moment they felt the earth shakebeneath their feet; the walls of the theatre trembled: and, beyond inthe distance, they heard the crash of falling roofs; an instant more andthe mountain-cloud seemed to roll towards them, dark and rapid, like atorrent; at the same time, i
t cast forth from its bosom a shower ofashes mixed with vast fragments of burning stone! Over the crushingvines--over the desolate streets--over the amphitheatre itself--far andwide--with many a mighty splash in the agitated sea--fell that awfulshower!

  No longer thought the crowd of justice or of Arbaces; safety forthemselves was their sole thought. Each turned to fly--each dashing,pressing, crushing, against the other. Trampling recklessly over thefallen--amidst groans, and oaths, and prayers, and sudden shrieks, theenormous crowd vomited itself forth through the numerous passages.Whither should they fly? Some, anticipating 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 ashesthat now fell fast, torrent upon torrent, over the streets, rushed underthe roofs of the nearest houses, or temples, or sheds--shelter of anykind--for protection from the terrors of the open air. But darker, andlarger, and mightier, spread the cloud above them. It was a sudden andmore ghastly Night rushing upon the realm of Noon!