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Some Opinions of the Press on the
First Edition of this Work.
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“The beauty of ‘Thoth’ is that you never have the faintest idea what
will happen next. This is the glory of romance, to keep up the reader’s
curiosity from page to page.... But what could hardly be bettered is
the veiled yet awful picture of the women, the mothers of the ruling
race in this wonderful city.... The central and vivifying idea is, to
us, absolutely novel.”—_Saturday Review_.
“‘Thoth’ has imagination, delicacy, and finish.”—_Athenæum_.
“It is admirably written, many of its passages are not likely to be
forgotten.”—_Graphic_.
“‘Thoth’ is a weird and mysterious romance, manifesting unusual
literary skill, and displaying no small amount of imagination.”
—_Academy_.
“Very curious and notable little book.”—_Daily News_.
“The story is one of great power and of the highest imagination....
One of the cleverest things of the day.”—_Glasgow Herald_.
“An excellent romance, strongly imagined, and worked out with
praiseworthy delicacy and skill.”—_Scotsman_.
“The book is full of imaginative beauty of a rare order.”—_Leeds
Mercury_.
“The tale is told with such a wealth of imagination and power of
graphic description, that it is not only possible to take a lively
interest in the fortunes of the heroine, but even difficult to cease
following them till the last page is reached.”—_Guardian_.
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WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS,
EDINBURGH AND LONDON.
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THOTH
_A ROMANCE_
[Illustration]
THIRD EDITION
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS
EDINBURGH AND LONDON
MDCCCLXXXIX
_All Rights reserved_
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.
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I gladly avail myself of this occasion to thank my critics for the
very friendly reception they have accorded to a book which was issued,
in the fullest meaning of the term, anonymously—that is to say, even
without the knowledge of a single personal friend. At the same time, I
wish to make an explanation which is partly of the nature of a protest.
_Post hoc ergo propter hoc_ may not always be a fallacy, but it was
certainly a mistake on the part of several reviewers of ‘Thoth’ to
translate it in their haste, “after ‘She,’ therefore on account of
‘She.’” For, as a matter of fact, ‘Thoth’ was designed and in part
composed more than twelve years ago. In its present form, however, it
has been entirely rewritten. It may interest some of my critics to
know the original intention and scheme, and the reasons why I delayed
the publication even longer than the classical ninth year.
The original idea was philosophical. I wished to illustrate the power
of will and intellect working through generations with a definite
design, and to show that this power might be used for the most
repulsive object. The object I chose for my purpose was the destruction
of the whole human race by means of pestilences, with the intention of
replacing it with a race of men who had for generations been trained
in the exercise of the highest intelligence. The new rule was to be
a tyranny of intellect. The original designer of this scheme was
supposed to be an Egyptian, who had discovered a method of suspending
animation. His attempt to introduce the government of intellect amongst
existing races had failed, and he determined to destroy them, even if
it took thousands of years to prepare the means. The defeat of the
scheme in the original plan was due to the friendship of the latest
Thoth for Philetos. Philetos was, in marked contrast to these haters
of men, a man whom every one loved, and who was the _beau ideal_ of a
philanthropist. Thus the victory over hate in the original plan was
gained by friendship. The reigning Thoth introduced the plague at
Athens, and his life was saved by Philetos. Afterwards Thoth attempted
on three occasions to kill his friend, fearing the power of his
friendship. The climax was reached in a scene in which the ancestral
Thoth and his descendants were aroused, and the fate of the world was
to depend on the decision of the ancient ruler.
After writing a considerable part of ‘Thoth’ on this plan, I became
dissatisfied for several reasons. In the first place, friendship alone,
though in the ancient world one of the strongest passions, did not
seem as I worked it out strong enough for my purpose. I had introduced
also, in the last scene, a supernatural element of a purely imaginary
kind, and I heartily disliked the _deus ex machinâ_ even when of my own
making. I also considered the style inflated and the characters far too
abstract. The original idea, however, seemed worth developing; and when
I took it up again after an interval of ten years, I substituted Daphne
and love for Philetos and friendship, and put more of the elements
of common humanity into the characters. I discarded the supernatural
altogether, for however wonderful Thoth’s powers are, there is nothing
beyond the possibility of modern science. Even the destruction of the
city in the end is due to the want of a guiding mind.
I have perhaps said enough to clear myself from the charge, never very
hardly pressed, of conscious or unconscious imitation; but as it may
interest some of my readers, I print in an appendix the last chapter as
it originally stood.
THE AUTHOR.
CONTENTS.
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CHAP. PAGE
PROLOGUE, 1
I. THE PLAGUE AND THE MERCHANTS, 5
II. DAPHNE, 21
III. NEPENTHE, 34
IV. THE MIGHT OF SKILL, 39
V. THE MIGHT OF CHANCE, 47
VI. A STRANGE WELCOME, 56
VII. THE WONDERS OF THE CITY, 65
VIII. THE DISHONOURED STATUE, 73
IX. THE WOMEN OF ROYAL RACE, 86
X. THE MYSTERY OF THE WOMEN RESOLVED, 100
XI. THOTH FORSWEARS HIS OATH, 116
XII. A WEARY INTERVAL, 127
XIII. TRANSFORMATION, 137
XIV. GREEK AND BARBARIAN, 148
XV. THE DOOM OF THE FIRST THOTH, 153
XVI. THE REVOLT OF NATURE, 161
XVII. GRECIAN GUILE, 167
XVIII. THE ASSEMBLY OF ANCESTORS, 178
XIX. THE VICTORY OF LOVE, 193
XX. THE RETURN TO ATHENS, 199
EPILOGUE, 209
APPENDIX, 211
THOTH.
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PROLOGUE.
BY THE CELEBRATED PHILOSOPHER AND
PHYSICIAN XENOPHILOS.
Nothing is more difficult than to separate the true from the false
in a narrative in which it is necessary for the most part to rely on
the testimony of one person only, and that person a woman whose mind
had been shaken by extraordinary perils and vicissitudes. A task so
laborious I shall not attempt, but shall simply set forth in order what
Daphne, the daughter of Philetos, told me in fragments at various
times, although I confess that some things seem in their nature
impossible.
This much, however, I will say for the benefit of posterity, and
that it may not be imagined this writing is from beginning to end
the figment of a poet’s fancy: Daphne was, without question, by far
the most beautiful woman of her time, and excited a most violent and
extreme passion in some of the wisest and most celebrated Athenians,
before the events occurred which I am about to record. And I do not
think it at all incredible that a man, driven by the madness of his
love for her, should be induced to sacrifice everything he held most
dear. Nor do I think it wonderful, considering the haughty ambition of
many of no great worth or power, that a man who had a marvellous genius
in making discoveries of the hidden nature of things, should try to
emulate the might of far-darting Apollo, who in his anger slays people
in multitudes by the shafts of his plagues and pestilences. And if any
one should think the conduct of this Egyptian and his ancestors, as
manifested in their deeds, altogether contrary to human nature (as if
one should say that doves chased hawks, or any other creature acted
in a way quite different from its kind), I would not only remind him
of the horrible and perverse sins even of Greeks in former times, but
would also ask him to remember that for ages the Egyptians had been
soured by a gloomy and cruel superstition.
Then, again, as to all the matters which are said to have occurred in
Athens, I have made the most careful inquiries, and, even in the most
minute particulars, I find that the testimony of Daphne is confirmed.
But to him who will be admonished, this narrative, whether true or
false, certainly declares that no human skill or strength of purpose
can altogether conquer nature and chance, and may thus serve, like
the tragedies of our poets, as a notable warning against pride and
presumption.
CHAPTER I.
THE PLAGUE AND THE MERCHANTS.
In the time of Pericles, as every one knows, Athens attained her
greatest glory. Magnificent buildings were erected, and in them were
placed statues and other ornaments of most exquisite workmanship.
Whilst the work was in progress, great encouragement was given to
foreign merchants, who brought materials of various kinds, and
especially ivory and metals. The laws against strangers were in a great
measure relaxed, and they were enabled to prosecute their business with
as much freedom as the citizens themselves. Even after the outbreak
of the Peloponnesian war, and when fear of spies and treachery was
natural, there was still a great concourse of foreign merchants in the
port and the city.
But an event occurred which soon put to flight all strangers, and made
Athens an object of the utmost dread. This was the great plague, of
which Thucydides, the son of Oloros, has given a memorable account in
his history.
A most remarkable incident, however, which is the key-stone of this
narrative, he has omitted to notice, probably because, being incredible
in its nature, he ascribed it to the invention of those whose minds
had been affected by the horrors of the scene, and considered it to be
unworthy of the dignity of his style and his careful adherence to truth.
* * * * *
A few days before the outbreak of the plague, a company of merchants,
about a score in number, arrived at Athens. They gave out that their
native land was Egypt, but they had been trading with many Grecian
cities at peace with Athens. They seemed to be extremely wealthy, and
their merchandise consisted mainly of ivory and gems. They had also
abundance of gold and silver. They acted as if they did not speak or
understand the Greek tongue, and always transacted their affairs by
means of interpreters. They appeared to be very careless or ignorant in
their bargains, often selling their wares for a much less price than,
with a little trouble and inquiry, they might have obtained.
They made no purchases themselves, with one exception, and in this
particular they were most fastidious and difficult to please. They
showed the greatest anxiety to buy young female slaves, and they
exercised the greatest care in the selection. They not only demanded
beauty and health, but inquired carefully into their education and
abilities. It was generally complained that it was impossible to
satisfy the demands of the merchants, as they appeared to apply tests
which neither the women nor their owners could understand.
* * * * *
As soon as the plague appeared, which happened first of all in the
port, all foreigners, with the exception of these Egyptians, fled away
in their ships. They, however, in spite of the dissatisfaction they
expressed with the slaves offered for sale, not only lingered on, but
appeared to be quite regardless of the dangers of infection.
Yet, in truth, both the disease and the circumstances of the
plague-stricken city were such as to shake the courage of the bravest.
For, as the historian narrates, suddenly, without any apparent cause
preceding, people who seemed in perfect health were seized with an
extreme ache in their heads, and redness and inflammation of the eyes;
then inwardly their throats and tongues grew presently bloody, and
their breath became noisome and unsavoury. Thereupon followed sneezing
and hoarseness, and, not long after, the pain, together with a mighty
cough, came down into the breast. As the disease spread, most dreadful
weakness and, in most cases, strong convulsions ensued. The bodies of
the afflicted outwardly to the touch were not very hot, but inwardly
they so burned as not to endure the lightest clothes or linen garment,
and they would fain have cast themselves into the cold water. Their
thirst was insatiable, and those who were not looked after ran to the
wells; but whether they drank much or little, they got neither ease
nor power of sleep. Many suffered for seven or nine days, and then died
of the inner burning, while yet their strength seemed undiminished;
others survived the torment, and then died of weakness. Some escaped
with the loss of their eyes or the extremities of the limbs, and others
were so much stricken in mind that they remembered neither themselves
nor their acquaintances. And the sickness, and the cruelty wherewith
it handled each one, far surmounted all expression in words—it was so
grievous and terrible.
But the greatest misery of all was the dejection of mind in such
as found themselves beginning to be sick, for they grew presently
desperate, and gave themselves over without making any resistance. Many
died like sheep affected by mutual visitation; and some, forsaken and
forlorn, for want of such as should take care of them.
The mortality was greatly increased by the crowds of country people
who, on account of the war, had come into the city with their goods
and chattels, and having no homes, they lived in stifling booths and
in tents. Dying men lay tumbling one upon another in the streets, and
about every spring and conduit. The temples, also, were full of dead,
for, oppressed with the violence of the calamity, and not knowing what
to do, men grew careless even of holy things. The laws which they
formerly used touching funerals were all broken. When one had made a
funeral pile, another getting before him would throw in his dead and
give it fire. And when one was burning, another would come, and having
cast therein him whom he carried, go his way again. Yet up to that time
no feeling amongst the Athenians was more profound than their respect
for the dead.
The city was filled with wailing, horror, and loathsomeness, but in the
midst of despair there were frantic outbursts of outrageous pleasures.
Licentiousness was unbridled, and men grasped at wild delights as if
they held their lives but by the day. The rich died, and the poor, who
had never dreamed of riches, slipped into their places, and, thinking
they had not a moment to lose, made their only aim the speedy fruition
of their goods. Neither the fear of the gods nor the laws of men awed
any man. For it seemed all one, to worship or not to worship, seeing
that all alike perished, and no one expected his life would last till
he received punishment of his crimes by human judgment. Many thought
that the whole city would be destroyed, and hastened to enjoy some
little part of their lives. Women left their apartments, and, without
friends or guardians, rushed to the temples or tried to flee from
the pestilence beyond the city bounds. For all discipline was broken
through, and all did what seemed good to them.
* * * * *
In spite of these dreadful scenes, the Egyptians showed no signs of
haste or alarm, and seemed to regard the terror-stricken people with
mingled curiosity and contempt. At first this conduct was ascribed to
the gloomy nature of their religion, and to the fact that in their
own cities the plague was said to be never altogether stifled. But
gradually a rumour spread that they had in their possession some drug
or charm by which they made themselves proof against the pestilence.
In a short time they were surrounded by a tumultuous throng of men
and women. A deafening outcry arose of threats and entreaties. Some
tried to embrace the knees of the merchants, and offered them masses
of gold and precious stones; others shrieked like madmen, “Give us
life,—save us!” Some, on the other hand, tried to terrify them with
brandished weapons; whilst others, hoping more from prayers, threatened
the threateners, and assumed the part of defenders of the strangers,
appealing to Zeus, the god of hospitality.
As the tumult grew, and the pressure of the crowd increased, the
merchants, speaking in an unknown tongue, seemed to address one
who appeared to be their leader, in terms of remonstrance and
expostulation, mingled, however, with respect and submission. No
interpreter could be found, so that no one could understand what was
said except vaguely from the looks and gestures of the speakers.
Suddenly, the leader made signs as if asking for silence and attention,
and a thrill of astonishment passed through the crowd as he began to
speak in a language which many of the people could, with a little
difficulty, understand. It seemed an ancient dialect of Greek, in most
respects like that used by Homer in his poems.
“Men of Athens,” he said, “ye wonder that we seem unmoved in the
midst of this dreadful plague, and ye think that we have some charm or
drug wherewith we defend ourselves from the infection. But we indeed
are careless, because death by the pestilence seems to us no worse
than the doom with which we are threatened if we escape. We come from
a country beyond Egypt, and are the descendants of a remnant of Greeks
who for many generations have been held in honourable captivity by the
powerful princes of the land. We have preserved our own customs, and as
ye see, our own language, and we have served as priests to our masters.
And often the daughters of our race have been chosen as queens, and
till a little time ago everything went well with us. Then certain
Greeks appeared, who aroused the envy of our king and his princes
by telling of the glories of Athens, and praising, most of all, the
beauty and the wit of the Athenian women, and they have sent us, not
only to bring back a faithful report of the grandeur of your city, but
they have ordered us to bring a number of your most beautiful and best
educated maidens, to become wives of the king and his nobles. In the
meantime they hold those Greeks in captivity, and also our wives and
children, and they have threatened us and them with dreadful punishment
if we do not bring back the maidens; and we thought at first to
purchase slaves, but we fear detection, for how can slaves make fitting
queens? But now the plague which has struck down your people seems to
offer us some hope of safety. For, perhaps, some of your maidens, being
without protectors in this calamity, will themselves be willing to go
with us, or their guardians, fearing the worst, will send them. And
in token of our good faith, we have brought large stores of precious
things to leave with you, and we will bind ourselves with great oaths
that the maidens shall be dealt with in the most honourable manner. And
as regards this pestilence, we can indeed offer you no certain cure,
but we would earnestly warn you, knowing something of the matter by sad
experience, that your only hope of safety is in avoiding crowds, and
keeping as much apart as possible. But see for yourselves the truth of
my words.”
And as he spoke thus, several persons in the throng were suddenly
taken with the plague, and terror seized on the rest, and they broke
up and fled. Many of the maidens, however, remained, believing through
the extremity of their fear that it was best for them to go with the
Egyptians.
And although it would be easy for any one sitting quietly at home in
the enjoyment of calm prosperity to consider the tale which they told
as unworthy of credence, it was a very different matter under the
actual circumstances of the case. And, as will appear in the sequel,
there was as much truth as falsehood in the promises, and the falsehood
was chiefly of that kind which consists in the suppression of truth.
One thing at least was certain, and was calculated to impress the
senses. They had undoubtedly a large amount of treasure, of which they
seemed quite careless. Besides this, it was known that they had made
endeavours to purchase female slaves for their purpose. But, above
everything else, the minds even of men of courage and philosophers had
been shaken in the terror, and it was natural for young maidens to
believe in anything which seemed to promise them a chance of safety
from a horrible death.
In a short time more than thirty of the fairest young women of Athens
had promised to go on board the Egyptian vessel; and to these, that no
doubt might shake them at the last, the leader told a thing still more
wonderful. He said, with an appearance of the greatest secrecy, that
they had a charm by which a small number could be protected against the
plague, and that they had failed to mention this because its virtue
would cease if applied beyond this small number. Then he painted, in
the most glowing language, the delights and pleasures which would be
their lot in the distant land. He also proceeded to terrify those whom
he was unwilling to take, and the maidens he had chosen began to fear
now that others might take their place, and promised to do all he bade
them.