Chacun a ses vertus.--_Crebillon's Xerxes_.
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 achievements which
make up the sum total of his private life and reputation.
* * * * *
Let us suppose, gentle reader, that it is now the year 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 name 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
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, most
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 around 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 the only water in sight, {236} with the
exception of the Mediterranean, which stretches, like a broad mirror,
about twelve miles off to the southward. Every one has beheld 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 I, 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 unfortunately the year of our Lord
eighteen hundred and thirty-six, we should be deprived of this
extraordinary spectacle. In the nineteenth century Antioch is--that
is, 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 will remove 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.
I beg pardon--I had forgotten that Shakspeare will not flourish for
nearly 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, 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 a gloom their shadows cast upon the
ground! It is well the swinging lamps in those endless collonades 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 the 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 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! What a terrible spectacle!--what a dangerous 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 more
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 throtling of a consecrated bull, are
circumstances 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--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 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--and that he
has just finished putting {237} to death with his own hand a thousand
chained Israelitish prisoners. For this exploit the ragamuffin is
lauding him to the skies. Hark!--here come 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![1]
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!
[Footnote 1: Flavius Vopiscus says that the Hymn which is here
introduced, was sung by the rabble upon the occasion of Aurelian, in
the Sarmatic war, having slain with his own hand nine hundred and
fifty of the enemy.]
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?--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 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 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 a 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 what a superior
dignity the monarch perambulates upon 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 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!
Who is king but Epiphanes?
Say--do you know?
Who is king but Epiphanes?
Bravo--bravo!
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 remarkable 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 this
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, and running for
his life. His courtiers have left him in the lurch, and his
concubines have let fall his tail. '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!
Remember that the beasts are at thy heels! 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 moves!--he flies! Like a shell from a catapult he
approaches the Hippodrome! He leaps!--he shrieks!--he is there! This
is {238} 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 who 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.