Stunned and confused by her sudden exclusion, and naturally believing
that it was the result of deliberate action upon her husband's part,
Ænone now felt all her sudden inspiration of courage deserting her, and
sank half fainting against the outside wall. For a moment it seemed to
her like a dream. She could realize suspicion, harsh language, and even
cruel treatment within a certain limit, for these were all within the
scope of her late experience; but it was hard to comprehend this
unlooked-for and apparently deliberate excess of degradation. But
gradually the mist cleared away from her bewildered mind, and she
recognized the reality of what had befallen her. Still, however, her
thoughts could not at once grapple with the overwhelming sense of the
indignity and suffering cast upon her. She could not doubt that she had
been expelled from her lord's house--cast out unprotected and friendless
in the midst of night, with undeserved reproaches. But, for all that, a
delusive hope clung to her. He could not mean that this should last. It
was but an impulse of sudden anger. He would repent of it in a moment,
and would call upon her to return to him. He would shed tears of bitter
shame, perhaps, and would beg that she would forgive him. And she would
be foolish enough to do so, she felt, at the very first pleading word
from him; though at the same time feeling that her own self-respect
should prompt her to show more lasting resentment. If thus easily forgot
the past, what security could she feel that, in some future transport of
rage, he might not repeat the act? But for all that, she felt that she
would weakly too soon forgive him.
Sliding her trembling hand down the damp wall, she found along its foot
a ledge of stone more or less projecting in different sections, in
accordance with the architectural requirements of the building. Seating
herself upon the widest portion of this ledge, she now waited to hear
the key again turned in the lock and the door swung open upon its
creaking hinges, and to see loving arms extended with repentant words of
self-reproach. Once or twice she fancied that she heard the key softly
fitted into its place, but it was only the abrasion of two contiguous
branches of a plane tree overhead. Once again she felt certain that she
heard the sound of persons approaching through the garden, but it was
the voice of men in the street--two slaves coming around the corner and
drawing near, speaking some harsh northern dialect which she knew not.
As the men approached, she endeavored to shrink out of sight behind a
perpendicular projection of the wall, and nearly succeeded. They had
passed, indeed, before they noticed her. Then they turned and gazed
curiously at her; and one of them made some remark, apparently of a
jesting nature, for they both laughed. Then again they turned and moved
on out of sight without attempting further molestation.
But the incident alarmed her, and caused her to realize yet more vividly
than before the exceeding unprotectedness of her situation. These men
had not sought to injure her, but how could she answer for the next who
might approach? It was a lonely, dark street, narrow, and comparatively
seldom used, and but little built upon, being mainly flanked by garden
walls. Upon the side where she sat there were no buildings at all,
excepting low prison houses for slaves, similar to that belonging to the
Vanno palace--for the street ran along an inner slope of the Coelian
Mount and parallel to the Triumphal Way, and thus naturally served as a
rear boundary to the gardens of the palaces and villas which fronted
upon the latter avenue. This very loneliness, therefore, added to her
insecurity; for though it was possible that no one else might pass by
for hours, there was the equal chance that if any one came with evil
intent, she might be murdered before help could be summoned. And at a
time when the broadest streets were never entirely safe even for armed
men, a weak woman, with tempting jewelry upon her person, might well
shudder at being left alone in a narrow alley.
Slowly and painfully--for the night was cool, and she had now been
sitting long in one position--Ænone raised herself and stood up, looking
hither and thither for some place of refuge. She had now waited more
than an hour, and if her husband had been inclined to recall her from
her exclusion, his repentance would scarcely have tarried so long. His
anger was generally fierce, but of short duration; could it be that in
this case his sense of injury was so great as to make him more
unreasoning than usual? Her heart sank yet lower with a new weight of
despair; but again hope whispered alleviation. He had been drinking
deeply--she said to herself--and had not clearly comprehended what he
had done. And afterward he had probably forgotten all about it, and had
fallen off into sleep. Upon the morrow he would be himself again.
Perhaps he would not then remember the outrage he had committed against
her. Certainly his anger would not still burn when corrected by
returning reason. She must therefore endeavor to gain access again to
the palace, and there avoid his presence, until the morrow brought to
him fresher reflection and a better inclination to listen to
explanation.
And accordingly she commenced her departure from her hiding place, and
slowly crept along the blank flanking wall of the little street, hoping
soon to gain the palace front. At first it seemed a very easy thing to
do so. Though she had never before been in that portion of the city, she
knew enough of its geography to feel certain that if she followed the
street in either direction, she could not fail to come to some
intersecting alley, through which she could reach the Triumphal Way.
Once there, the route was familiar to her, and she could arrive at her
home in a few minutes. But as she advanced, she found that what had
appeared to be an easy stroll, seemed converted into a toilsome and
perplexing journey. Confused and terrified, the coolness necessary to
pursue in safety even so short a route began to fail her. At times she
imagined that she heard strangers approaching, and then it became
needful to conceal herself again, as well as she could, behind
projections or in recesses of the wall. Then, when once more venturing
out, the shadows of the wall itself or of neighboring buildings would
terrify her into seeking other concealments. And once, after having
resumed her course, she discovered that she had mistaken the direction,
and was retracing her steps.
At last, after a journey of nearly an hour, during which she had only
advanced as far as a resolute person might have gone in a few minutes,
she reached an intersecting street leading to the Triumphal Way. It was
a wider passage than that which she was leaving, and this fact added to
her dismay. For though she had at first feared the narrower street for
its loneliness, yet now that she had so far glided through it in safety,
she had begun to feel somewhat reassured, and in turn dreaded the more
open channels, since they would naturally be more frequented. It was,
therefore, with new trepidation that, upon turning the corner, she saw,
in the broader street before her, signs of movement and life. The street
happened to be a favorite thoroughfare from the Triumphal Way, across
the Coelian Mount, and, in consequence, was never, perhaps, entirely
deserted. Now that the whole city was throbbing with anticipations of
the morrow's festivities, there were more persons wakeful and wandering
about with feverish expectation than usual. Moreover, it was a street
which abounded with drinking shops, and these were now all open, in
spite of the lateness of the hour, and appeared to be thronged with
customers. One of these shops stood upon the corner where Ænone had
halted. A faint light burned over the doorway to mark the locality; and
through the open passage she could see a crowd of ill-conditioned,
rough-looking men, appearing, in the dim light, more rough and uncouth
than they really were. Here were mingled together artisans of the lower
orders, slaves and professional gladiators, all drinking and singing
together in close fraternity. For a moment Ænone paused and hesitated,
not daring to pass on. If she could reach the farther side without
attracting observation, it would be but one step gained, for there were
many other drinking shops glimmering in the distance along the whole
street, and each one had its special crowd of noisy customers. To escape
one peril seemed only to run into another. Then, as she deliberated and
alternately put her foot forward and withdrew it again in a fruitless
attempt to muster courage to run the gauntlet, two men emerged from the
wine shop, and staggered toward her--a slave and a gladiator, linked arm
in arm, and singing a wild song in discordant keys. Both appeared to be
under the influence of wine, though in different degrees; for while the
former had set no bounds to his license, the latter had somewhat
restrained his propensities, in view of the demands upon his strength
which the morrow's work would surely make. Seeing these men reel toward
her, Ænone turned and fled, without knowing, or, for the moment, caring,
in which direction she went. The men had not at first seen her, but, as
they now caught sight of her flying figure, they set up a drunken whoop,
and attempted to follow. All in vain; for ere they had advanced many
paces, their weakened limbs betrayed them, and they sank powerless upon
the ground, and, forgetting the pursuit, rolled over lovingly in each
other's arms. Meanwhile, Ænone, not daring to look back, and not knowing
that the chase had ended, still fled in wild terror, until at last her
breath failed her, and she tottered helpless into the shade of the
nearest wall.
She was now lost indeed. How long she had been running, or in which
direction, how many divergences she had taken, or how many narrow alleys
threaded, she knew not. She simply realized that she was in a portion of
the city where she had never been before, and from which extrication
seemed impossible, so dark and narrow and winding seemed the passages in
every direction. Far narrower and darker, indeed, than the lane behind
the palace, and without its protecting solitude. In place of high garden
walls, the whole route seemed lined with miserable tenements, the refuge
of the lowest of the Roman population. There, crowded together in close
communication, were the rabble of poorer slaves and beggars, all equally
marked with rags and filth.
In all this there was one comfort. However thronged the tenements along
the side might be, the street itself seemed deserted, nor could Ænone
any longer hear the sound of pursuit. That, at least, she had escaped,
and now again she took partial courage as she reflected that with
moderate caution she might yet be able to extricate herself. There must
be some outlet to that neighborhood of squalid misery; and take
whichever way she might, she could scarcely fail, at the end, to emerge
into some more reputable region.
Again the sound of two persons approaching restrained her, and caused
her to shrink into a corner until they might pass. Unlike the others,
these men had not been drinking, but advanced gravely and steadily, with
a slow, deliberate pace, indicative of weighty reflection. These, also,
were slaves; and before they emerged into sight from the surrounding
darkness, Ænone could distinctly mark the low, plotting whisper with
which they spoke, occasionally rising, from excess of emotion, into a
louder key. As they came opposite to her, they paused--not seeing her,
but simply seeming to be arrested by the vehemence of their debate; and
again their words sank nearly into a whisper.
'Tell me why I should not do so?' hissed the nearest, a man of gigantic
proportions and development of strength. 'Why should I not leap out of
the arena where these men place me to play a fool's part; and scrambling
over the ranges of seats, plunge this dagger into his heart? Ye gods!
were I once to begin to clamber up, no force could stop me from reaching
him, were he at the very topmost range! And I will--why not?'
'You would gain but an instant's revenge,' said the other, striving to
soothe him, 'and you would lose--'
'What? My life, would you say?' retorted the first. 'I know it. I know
well, that before I could strike him thrice, I would myself be beaten
down, a corpse. But one blow from me would be sufficient for him. Ay,
though I used not my knife at all, but only my hardened fist. Would it
not be a fine revenge, say you, thus to kill him? It was on account of
my strength of arm that he laid toils for my capture, and for that alone
he most valued me. Why not, then, prove its quality upon himself? With a
single blow I could crush in his proud head like an egg shell. Then let
them kill me--I care not.'
'And yet the life once lost by you cannot be gained again,' responded
the other.
'O feeble-minded!' said the first, with disdain. 'Have I ever so dearly
cared for life that I should thus guard it at the expense of honor?
While I was a free man, in my native Rhodes, with my wife and children
around me, did I not then risk my life among the very first? And am I
likely to value it the more now that I am a slave, with wife torn from
me and sent I know not where, with children slain one by one, as the
only means of capturing me, with the accursed livery of the arena placed
upon me that I may administer to their gaping appetite for blood? Can
all this make me love my life more than I have ever loved it before?'
'But wait--only wait. There will come a time--'
'Ay, ay; there will come a time is what all say, and will continue to
say, and yet the time comes not. There is never any time like the
present. All around me are thousands of men, once free and now chained
into slavery--and chained, perhaps, more through their own indolence
than by the power of their masters; and yet they lie supine, and call
upon each other to wait! And to-morrow there will be a thousand such in
the arena, and instead of rising up together in their strength, they
will fight only with each other. What might not that thousand
accomplish, were they to act together in brave and earnest revolt? What
chance would a few hundred pampered pretorians have of staying the
flood? There, seated in fancied security upon their benches, will be the
emperor, the court, the nobles, and the most wealthy of the empire. In
one hour of action, we could sweep these away like chaff, together with
all else that is held most worthy of place and power in the whole
empire! And yet these thousand slaves will not rise up together with me,
and it will not be done!'
The head of the Hercules dropped upon his chest with a gesture of
despair.
'You say truly,' responded the other. 'It will not be done, for they
will not act with you. And what can you do alone?'
'Nothing--nothing; I see it all. I am powerless,' murmured the first.
'Well, I will be patient, and dissimulate. I will do as you request,
Gorgo. I will restrain myself. As for this man--this imperator--why
should I there wreak my vengeance upon him? It would only be giving to
the rest of the people an unlooked-for sight--a newer pleasure, that is
all. I will therefore act the part of a good and faithful slave--will
kiss the rod held over me--and will duly serve my master by slaying my
adversary, whoever he may be, and thus winning that store of gold pieces
which have been laid out as the stake of my life. And then--then I will
go home to my kennel and my bones. But this I swear, by the immortal
gods! that I will follow this man from house to forum, wherever he may
go, until I find a proper chance to strike him down in secret like a
dog. You were right. I must not lose my life to kill him, when I can so
easily slay him and yet live to slay other men as bad as he. My life is
for other things. And when the time comes that I can raise the standard
of insurrection, will you then--'
'Then I will be with you heart and soul forever, until our freedom is
built up on the ruins of this accursed Rome!' cried the other, striking
his hand responsively into the outstretched palm before him. And the two
men again took up their walk, and passed on until they were swallowed up
in the darkness and their voices, growing more and more indistinct, were
finally hushed.
THE VISION.
INSCRIBED TO TEACHERS TO CONTRABANDS IN THE SOUTH.
Lo! a picture came before me
Of a million broken chains,
Lying cankered with old blood-drops
Which had oozed from tortured veins,
Reddening the fleecy cotton
Snowed upon the Southern plains.
And the picture's tints grew deeper,
Redder, blacker, as I gazed,
And my weak knees smote together,
And my eyes grew dim and glazed,
At the vision's spectred horrors
From the graves of vengeance raised.
For, where liveoaks and magnolias
Gloom the earth with densest shades,
Where the snake and alligator
Lurk in endless everglades,
Where the cloud-lace-fretted sunset
Lingering, longest night evades,
Where the eagle builds his eyrie
Nearest to the fervid skies,
Where the buzzard swoops to fatten
On the prey that lingering dies,
Where the bloodhound's hellish baying
Stills the hunted bondman's cries,
There uprose, all ghostly shadowed,
Hosts of wasted, haggard forms;
And their wild eyes glared and glittered
Like heaven's fire in dark-browed storms,
And with outstretched arms toward me
They came rushing in thick swarms.
And I saw upon their foreheads
Letters where the irons burned,
And their backs left gashed and harrowed
Where the lash for life-blood yearned,
And their lank limbs, fester-eaten,
Showed where gnawing shackles turned.
There were gaunt and frenzied mothers
With wan children in their arms,
There were youths, and there were maidens,
Curses, tears, and wild alarms,
There were auction blocks and hammers
Where were bartered beauty's charms.
Ah! my heart grew chill within me,
And my 'frighted blood congealed,
As my soul's eye raised the shadows
Which like curtains half concealed
Deeper horrors, depths of anguish
Left till God's day unrevealed!
And my soul went up in sighing
To God's ear: 'And _Thou_ dost know,
High and Holy! men are devils,
Earth, like hell, is drowned in woe?'
Came an answer: 'Hark! my war-blast
Dealing sin a staggering blow!'
'Father! though the chains be broken,'
Cried my soul, 'the wounds remain,
Deeper than the irons wore them,
'Neath the brow within the brain,
'Neath the body in the spirit!
Peals Thy war-blast not in vain?
'How shall knowledge, how shall virtue
Dwell with ignorance and sin?
Where is found that earthly saintship
Can consort with devils' din?
Who the saintly self-denying
Through bell's door would look within
'E'en to save the devil's victims,
Snatch them from the cooling flames,
Kiss with love their long-charred spirits,
Breathe new souls into their names,
Wing them to the climes supernal,
And to angels' loud acclaims?'
Then came answer: 'Lo! I call them,
Ministers of love, I call!'
Then I waited in the silence,
With God waited over all,
Till I knew how He forgetteth
No one worthy, great or small.
For I saw from where the ocean
Drifts its rhythms to the beach,
From where mountain snows eternal
Far toward heaven as stainless reach,
From where gold and russet harvests
Of God's 'whelming bounty teach,
From where all are always freemen,
From where colleges and schools
Free the mind from Old-World trammels,
Unfit men for tyrants' tools,
From where firesides and altars
Govern hearts with golden rules,
Came, as flowers come in spring-time
Dropt from Winter's icy hand,
Came to cheer, to teach, to brighten--
God's commissioned, shining band;
Came with hands and hearts o'erflowing
To renew the Southern land!
And I watched how spirit-anguish
Songs and smiles soon soothed, allayed,
And how soul-wounds touched by kindness,
As by Christ, could heal and fade,
And how darkness fled affrighted
Where these angels wept and prayed.
And my soul went up in praising
To God's ear: 'Yea, Thou dost know,
High and Holy! men are devils,
Earth, like hell, is drowned in woe;
But Thy war-blast, in Thy mercy,
Hath dealt sin a staggering blow!'
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY--A POLISH DRAMA.
Dedicated to Mary.