Collected Works of Eugène Sue

by Eugène Sue

  The jailor who once a day brought to Sylvest his allotted pittance of food was an invalided soldier, an old Cretan archer, and as talkative a fellow as any of our own Gallic countrymen, as the good Joel would have said. The jailor, long familiar with the combats of the circus and hardened to the spectacle, always entertained Sylvest at his meal hour, and that without any evil intention, with recounting to him the number and ferocity of the animals which his friend and companion, the chief keeper of the animals, had under his charge. On the eve of the expected sanguinary feast he said to the slave with a paternal air:

  “Ah, my son! We have just this minute received for tomorrow’s spectacle a superb couple of African lions. I thought of you, because, my good friend, the keeper of the animals says he never saw such a couple of ferocious beasts. Only four leagues from here, while the train halted and immediately after having had their fill of meat, those lions tore to pieces the Arab keeper, to whom they were long accustomed and who therefore did not in the least suspect them — all out of pure viciousness. What will it be to-morrow evening, after they will have been deprived of food for a whole day! My son, I wish for your sake that you fall into the paws of one of these two fellows. He will not make you languish-above all I urge you earnestly, your youth makes me feel an interest in you, above all remember this: Do not follow the example of the weaklings, who, the moment the wild beasts are let loose into the amphitheater commit the clumsiness of throwing themselves flat down upon their faces, and expose their backs, instead of their breasts. The clumsy fools! Their agony lasts a hundred times longer. I shall explain to you why. As no vital part of the body is attacked from the start, death is much slower — while, on the contrary, one is done quick if, now remember this, my son, if he drops on his knees, face to face with the lion or tiger, his chest and throat freely exposed to their teeth. The chances are then fair that you will be despatched in short order by the animal’s seizing you by the throat or disemboweling you on the spot.”

  “The advice is good; I shall remember it.”

  “But remember also this, my son, that to drop down on your knees face to face to the animals applies only in cases of lions or tigers. — If you have to deal with an elephant, you must resort to a contrary manoeuvre. I’ll tell you which—”

  “Will there be elephants also at this Roman celebration? I did not know that there were any of them in Orange.”

  “Anxious that to-morrow’s spectacle shall be a record breaker in Roman Gaul, the ediles have put themselves to great expense. They bought the battle elephant of the circus of Nimes. He is said to be a ferocious brute. He arrived here several days ago. And that is not all, because, by Jupiter! our noble ediles do things upon an imperial scale. There will also be an extraordinary combat of a sort that I have seen only twice in all my life, once in Rome, another time in Alexandria, in Egypt.”

  “And in what will that extraordinary combat consist?”

  “Before telling you that, let me, my son, give you an excellent precept. I am now talking of the elephant. You see him running towards you furiously, not so? Try to avoid that he catch you in the coils of his trunk. You must throw yourself flat on the ground, glide under him, grab one of his hind legs, and he will thereupon immediately trample you to death in order to rid himself of your embrace. In a jiffy he will have all your bones broken and you will be flattened out with as much ease as you would flatten out a shell-less snail.”

  “I shall endeavor to select the elephant. With him there is a better chance of dying quickly than with the lions.”

  “Yes, truly! But you will have to be quick and wide-awake so that you may be one of the first to reach the elephant. He will be very much in demand. You will see that from the instant he makes his appearance in the arena all the slaves who are sentenced to the wild animals will rush toward him.”

  “And would the extraordinary combat that you referred to offer a quicker death?”

  “No! No! By Hercules! I can assure you that I can give you no suggestion with regard to the monstrous animal that I am going to tell you about. It is a crocodile. I once saw in Rome the legs and arms of three slaves as neatly and quickly cut through by the saw-like teeth of a crocodile, as an axe would have done.”

  “This Roman feast promises to be elaborate — bears, lions, tigers, elephants, marine monsters! Will there be slaves enough to feast so many guests?”

  “Without counting those whose masters may between now and to-morrow evening generously tender them to the public spectacle, there are now nearly eighty of you — that will be enough.”

  “I should think so! That should be quite enough to entertain the surfeited taste of the nobles. But will that crocodile be able to fight on the sand of the arena?”

  “No, a pond has been dug out for him in the center of the circus, level with the ground. While fleeing hither and thither from the wild beasts, many slaves will be sure to fall in. The pond is a hundred paces round and a yard deep. The crocodile came from Rome by sea in a galley specially constructed for him.”

  “Just like a pro-consul, or some rich and noble seigneur!”

  “Yes, my son. I must say that what interests me doubly in you is the fortitude that you display. What country are you from?”

  “I am from Breton Gaul.”

  “By the brave god Mars! Those Bretons were mighty fellows at their swords. I made their acquaintance. The arm I lost was cut off at one blow of a hatchet under the very eyes of Caesar, the great Caesar, at the battle of Vannes — It was a terrible fight. Caesar came near being made a prisoner.”

  “Yes, my father was carrying him off in full armor on his horse.”

  “You speak sooth; I was there when the Numidian riders ran to the help of Caesar, whom a kind of Gallic giant was carrying off on his horse. — And that Breton was your father?”

  “The only one of my family who survived the battle of Vannes. — But,” Sylvest explained, fearing lest the jailor imagine he was seeking to enlist his compassion by speaking of the bravery of the Gauls, “we are wandering far away from the crocodile that arrived from Rome in a galley, like a proconsul! Where did the beast disembark?”

  “At Narbonne; from Narbonne it was brought to Orange in a large basin filled with water and drawn by twenty yoke of oxen. This morning a live heifer was thrown in to the monster — Oh! my son, the monster crunched the heifer’s bones with the ease that a cat crunches the bones of a mouse.”

  “It seems to me that the slaves thrown in to the crocodile may drown themselves before being devoured. — That would be better still—’’

  “No, they will not be able to drown themselves. Precautions have been taken against that. The bottom of the crocodile’s basin is covered with a thick layer of mud and gravel. When the slaves fall in, their heads and shoulders will be above water. — As to the way to meet quick death in the crocodile’s tank, my son, I can give you no advice. I have no experience in that line. — For the rest, seeing that the slaves are not delivered to the animals but as the closing act of the performance, you will have a chance to wait for your hour by witnessing one of the most remarkable gladiatorial combats ever yet seen. There will be eight couples on horseback, and twenty-five afoot. — And it is even said, but the report is not yet confirmed, that this part of the performance will not be completed but after the genuine fashion of Rome, according to which several grand dames will combat against one another. We expect to have female gladiators.”

  “Women? Noble dames?”

  “Certes, and of the noblest. The keeper who brought the crocodile from Italy was telling us a few hours ago that he saw in the circus at Rome five female couples, all wives of senators and knights, combat on the arena. Some combatted with others of their own rank, and one or two combatted with female slaves. And he says that they fought with incredible fury, the same as seigneurs and knights often indulge in gladiatorial fights with their slaves, the latter, of course, always unarmed. The slaves are armed only when they are set to fight one another unto death, like
professional gladiators, such as the celebrated Mont-Liban and other skilful masters in arms. — Ah! The evening’s entertainment promises to be gorgeous. — Thanks to the new method adopted by the physicians,” added the jailor laughing, “the assistants at the circus, and I am one of them, will make good fees to-morrow.”

  “What fees?”

  “Are you ignorant of the marvelous healing powers, for certain diseases, that have been discovered in the liver of freshly killed gladiators? — The physicians hold themselves ready to swoop down like a cloud of vultures upon the bodies of the fallen and still warm gladiators, — because, you must know, the liver must be extracted warm from the entrails, or it loses its virtue. — The sale of livers, without counting the presents given us by old men and epileptics who also hasten to the spot in search of life in death, constitute our profits. But, by Pluto! It is not all fun with us! You must know that the moment the performance is over, the torches put out and the amphitheater deserted and dark as night — Oh! my son—”

  “What is it that makes you shudder like that? What is it that happens when the amphitheater is deserted and dark?”

  “Then is the hour of the witches!—”

  “The witches!” exclaimed Sylvest shuddering in turn. “What brings them to the circus — at that hour of the night?”

  “Oh! It is the hour when, assuming the shapes of hyenas, wolves, serpents, birds of prey or of some unknown and still more dreadful animal, these magicians glide through the gloom and contend with one another for the human remains that strew the bloody arena and that they need for their incantations. — Oh! How many times have I not stood shivering in my lodge, old soldier though I am, when I heard from the distance the screeches, howlings and frightful gruntings of the witches tugging at the dead bodies for the heads and vital parts of the corpses in which wild animals had left the impress of their teeth! — Oh! my son! The cold sweat comes over me when I think of the mysterious, frightful noises that I shall hear during the night after the festival—”

  Saying this the jailor took his departure leaving Sylvest steeped in fresh anxieties. — Perchance Syomara, transformed into a she-wolf, might prowl on the night of the following day into the arena and contend with other magicians for the corpse of her own brother.

  The last night of his imprisonment Sylvest spent almost without sleeping a wink. He constantly feared to see Syomara appear before him. — Thanks to the gods she did not come. Probably, faithful to her promises not to take any steps with seigneur Diavolus looking to the redemption of her brother at an infamous price, before seeing him again, she was quietly awaiting his return, wholly ignorant of his being condemned to die in the arena.

  The evening dedicated to the Roman feast arrived at last. Two hours before, the old jailor came to Sylvest, but, instead of bringing him his usual pittance, said:

  “My son, to-day you have a free meal!”

  “What is a free meal?”

  “You can ask anything you wish, worth not more than half a gold sou. The eighty slaves who are destined, like yourself, to the wild beasts, all enjoy the same right — it is their last meal. — It is an old and generous custom.”

  “Yes! No doubt the ediles desire that the lions, tigers and crocodiles shall have for their dishes slaves that are nicely fed on the last day of their lives. — As to me, I care not to offer myself as any such dainty dish to the noble animals. To-day I shall eat nothing at all. They shall have to accept me such as the prison diet made me.”

  “That is a singular notion,” observed the jailor gravely, and looking closely at Sylvest, “There are here about thirty Gallic slaves condemned to the wild animals; they all act on the same principle and are firm as rocks, while all the other slaves, whether Roman, German, Spanish, Arabian, Hebrew, all of them — no, not all, — the Hebrew slaves also display great courage, they do not seem to mind death, they say that their true Messiah will come some day and cause justice to reign on earth—”

  “Who is their Messiah?”

  “I could not describe him to you. They claim that he is a better man than any of the numerous and pretended Messiahs who have hitherto sprung up, and that he will deliver their people from the yoke of the Romans. Rome, as you know, dominates the country of the Hebrews the same as it does the rest of the world. — Well, as I was saying to you, those Hebrews also are very firm in the presence of death, while all the others, you Gauls excepted, have seen the approach of this day either with increasing terror or with savage despair. You and the Hebrews, however, do not show the least concern. By Hercules! I would like to know what imparts such courage to you.”

  “It is the druids, our priests. We draw our fortitude from the belief in immortality. The druids have taught us that there is no death.”

  “How! When in a few hours your bones will crack between the teeth of wild animals — when your body will be torn into shreds — you still claim that life will not have been extinguished in you?”

  “Does the body die when the garments that cover it are worn out and are replaced with new ones? No. The garmente pass, the body remains. It is thus with our lives. Our life is eternal — it changes its wrappings as we change our garments. Hardly will, this evening, the last shred of my fleshly garment be torn by the wild beasts, than, putting on a fresh body, as one puts on a fresh garment, I shall continue my life in unknown worlds, where I shall meet again those whom I have loved in this.”

  The invalided legionary looked at Sylvest with eyes full of astonishment, tipped his head in the air and remarked: “If you Gauls believe that, then courage must come easy to you. I now no longer wonder at the fool-hardiness of your race, and at their headlong conduct in battle. — And so, then, you do not intend to do honor to your free meal?”

  “No; I shall not taste any dish that you may offer to me.”

  “You are wrong. — I have always heard it said that the agony of a man with an empty stomach lasts longer than that of a man with a full stomach. — But do as you please. — At sun-set I shall come for you. You will then witness one of the most magnificent performances in the world. — First the combat of eight couples of gladiators on horse-back; these are professional gladiators. After that twenty-five couples of slave gladiators, who are compelled to fight until death. After that the young and rich seigneur Norbiac will present himself in the circus—”

  “To fight? — Seigneur Norbiac? — And against whom?”

  “Pure comedy, but it is the fashion. — He will fight armed to the teeth with a slave ‘armed in blank’ as the circus term is, that is to say, the slave will be armed with a tin sword without either point or edge. Our young seigneurs enjoy that sort of sport. After that there will be the combat of women that I spoke to you about. It is now certain that it will take place.”

  “Between whom?”

  “Between two of the most beautiful women of Orange — a grand dame and a celebrated manumitted courtesan.”

  “What are their names?” Sylvest asked with deep curiosity and no little anxiety. “Oh! Their names.”

  “The grand dame is Faustina, a patrician of this city. The manumitted courtesan has been only a short time in Orange. They call her the Beautiful Gaul. After that we shall be treated to a combat to the death between the famous Mont-Liban and Bibrix, the most celebrated gladiator of Nimes. Finally, to wind up the feast, the slaves will be delivered to the wild animals, and by the way of them, do not forget, my son, the advice I have given you upon how to behave in sight of a lion or tiger, or in sight of an elephant. As to the crocodile I can give you no advice.”

  Sylvest was again left alone. He had just been dumbfounded with the tidings of the combat between Syomara and Faustina. What could be the reason for an encounter between the two women? Was it perhaps the rivalry between them on the score of Mont-Liban? Sylvest hesitated to accept that theory. He remembered the disdainful manner in which Syomara treated the gladiator, although in the end she dismissed him with a few kind words. But since that morning, three “days had passed. Perh
aps Syomara did finally take Mont-Liban for her lover, out of mere hatred for Faustina rather than out of esteem for the stupid and brutal gladiator. Sylvest thought this possible as he recalled Syomara’s admission that she fled to necromancy from a surfeit of debauchery. Finally he remembered the horrible revelation of the eunuch on the subject of Belphegor; he shuddered at the recollection of the eunuch’s words and was still loth to believe them true. On the other hand, he was not surprised to see the noble Faustina, for the sake of the combat, leap the barrier that separated her from the manumitted courtesan. At Rome the most notable Roman dames combatted on the arena either with others of their own rank or with female slaves; a Gallic courtesan might be taken to be no more than a slave, What he could not explain was that Syomara should have accepted the murderous struggle. Perhaps she relied upon her magic powers to emerge triumphant from the ordeal.

  These cogitations occupied Sylvest’s mind until sun-set. At that hour the jailor opened the slave’s cell to conduct him to the Roman feast.

  “Am I to be delivered to the wild animals with chains to my feet and my hands manacled?” he asked the invalid. “Will you not unchain me?”

  “No, my son. You will be taken all together into an iron-barred vault that is situated on the same level as the arena and opens upon it. As you are to remain locked up there until the moment when you are to be delivered to the wild animals, you might kill one another if you were to be unchained. Just before you enter the circus your chains will be removed. Come now, my son, follow me.”

  CHAPTER XII.

  AT THE CIRCUS RAILING.

  WHEN SYLVEST STEPPED out of his cell, he found himself in a long underground galley, from either side of which opened the doors of other cells whence, no doubt, a number of his fellow victims had been taken ahead of him. At the farther end of the underground walk towards which, prodded by their respective jailors and armed keepers, the slaves were being driven, a bright light was seen across heavy and close-set bars of iron. It was the illumination of the amphitheater. Filled with anxiety at the thought of the combat between Faustina and his sister, Sylvest wished to be among the first to arrive at the railing of that huge air-hole, and he cleaved the mass of his companions. Thanks to this foresight, Sylvest succeeded in securing a place close to the iron bars, from where he heard with increasing distinctness the rustling and even tumult of a vast concourse, seeing that the amphitheater of Orange, like those of Arles, Nimes, and several other cities of Roman Gaul, could seat twenty-five thousand spectators.