Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive
Transcriber's notes:
1. Page scan source:
http://www.archive.org/details/scarletbanner00dahngoog
2. The diphthongs OE and oe is represented by [OE] and [oe].
THE SCARLET BANNER
_Novels by Felix Dahn_
TRANSLATED BY MARY J. SAFFORD
A CAPTIVE OF THE ROMAN EAGLES. $1.50
FELICITAS. $1.50
THE SCARLET BANNER. $1.50
PUBLISHED BY A. C. MCCLURG & CO.
The Scarlet Banner
_By_ FELIX DAHN
Translated from the German by
MARY J. SAFFORD
TRANSLATOR OF
"A Captive of the Roman Eagles," "Felicitas," etc.
Chicago
A. C. McClurg & Co.
1903
COPYRIGHT
A. C. MCCLURG & CO.
1903
_Right of Dramatization Reserved_
Published October 14, 1903
UNIVERSITY PRESS . JOHN WILSON
AND SON . CAMBRIDGE . U.S.A.
DEDICATED
IN DEEP REVERENCE AND WARM FRIENDSHIP
TO
HIS EXCELLENCY
ACTING PRIVY-COUNCILLOR AND PROFESSOR
HERR DR. KARL HASE
OF JENA
_Only through the same virtues by which they were founded will kingdoms
be maintained._
SALLUSTIUS, Catilina.
_O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!_
SHAKESPEARE, Hamlet.
PREFACE
This story, published in Germany under the title of _Gelimer_ is the
third volume in the group of romances to which "Felicitas" and "The
Captive of the Roman Eagles" belong, and, like them, deals with the
long-continued conflict between the Germans and the Romans.
But in the present novel the scene of the struggle is transferred from
the forests of Germania to the arid sands of Africa, and, in
wonderfully vivid pen-pictures, the author displays the marvellous
magnificence surrounding the descendants of the Vandal Genseric, the
superb pageants of their festivals, and the luxury whose enervating
influence has gradually sapped the strength and courage of the rude,
invincible warriors--once the terror of all the neighboring coasts and
islands--till their enfeebled limbs can no longer support the weight of
their ancestors' armor, and they cast aside their helmets to crown
themselves with the rose-garlands of Roman revellers.
The pages glow with color as the brilliant changeful vision of life in
Carthage, under the Vandal rule, rises from the mists of the vanished
centuries, and the characters which people this ancient world are no
less varied. The noble king, the subtle Roman, Verus, the gallant
warrior, Zazo, Hilda, the beautiful, fearless Ostrogoth Princess, the
wily Justinian, his unscrupulous Empress, Theodora, and their brave,
impetuous general, Belisarius, are clearly portrayed; and, underlying
the whole drama, surges the fierce warfare between Roman Catholic and
Arian, while the place and the period in which the scenes of the
romance are laid, both comparatively little known, lend a peculiar
charm and freshness to the gifted author's narrative.
MARY J. SAFFORD.
HIGHFIELD COTTAGE,
DOUGLAS HILL, MAINE,
August 24, 1903.
THE
SCARLET BANNER
_BOOK ONE_
BEFORE THE WAR
CHAPTER I
TO CORNELIUS CETHEGUS CAESARIUS, A FRIEND:
I send these notes to you rather than to any other man. Why? First of
all, because I know not where you are, so the missive will probably be
lost. Doubtless that would be the best thing which could happen,
especially for the man who would then be spared reading these pages!
But it will also be well for me that these lines should lie--or be
lost--in some other place than here. For here in Constantinople they
may fall into certain dainty little well-kept hands, which possibly
might gracefully wave an order to cut off my head--or some other useful
portion of my anatomy to which I have been accustomed since my birth.
But if I send these truths hence to the West, they will not be so
easily seized by those dangerous little fingers which discover every
secret in the capital, whenever they search in earnest. Whether you are
living in your house at the foot of the Capitol, or with the Regent at
Ravenna, I do not know; but I shall despatch this to Rome, for toward
Rome my thoughts fly, seeking Cethegus.
You may ask derisively why I write what is so dangerous. Because I
must! I praise--constrained by fear--so many people and things with my
lips that I condemn in my heart, that I must at least confess the truth
secretly in writing. Well, I might write out my rage, read it, and then
throw the pages into the sea, you say. But--and this is the other
reason for this missive--I am vain, too. The cleverest man I know must
read, must praise what I write, must be aware that I was not so foolish
as to believe all I extolled to be praiseworthy. Later perhaps I can
use the notes,--if they are not lost,--when at some future day I write
the true history of the strange things I have experienced and shortly
shall undergo.
So keep these pages if they do reach you. They are not exactly letters;
it is a sort of diary that I am sending to you. I shall expect no
answer. Cethegus does not need me, at present. Why should Cethegus
write to me, now? Yet perhaps I shall soon learn your opinion from your
own lips. Do you marvel?
True, we have not met since we studied together at Athens. But possibly
I may soon seek you in your Italy. For I believe that the war declared
to-day against the Vandals is but the prelude to the conflict with your
tyrants, the Ostrogoths. Now I have written the great secret which at
present is known to so few.
It is a strange thing to see before one, in clear, sharp letters, a
terrible fate, pregnant with blood and tears, which no one else
suspects; at such times the statesman feels akin to the god who is
forging the thunderbolt that will so soon strike happy human beings.
Pitiable, weak, mortal god! Will your bolt hit the mark? Will it not
recoil against you? The demi-god Justinian and the goddess Theodora
have prepared this thunder-bolt; the eagle Belisarius will carry it; we
are starting for Africa to make war upon the Vandals.
Now you know much, O Cethegus. But you do not yet know all,--at least,
not all about the Vandals. So learn it from me; I know. During the last
few months I have been obliged to deliver lectures to the two gods--and
the eagle--about these fair-haired fools. But whoever is compelled to
deliver lectures has sense enough bestowed upon him to perform the
task. Look at the professors at Athens. Since the reign of Justinian
the lecture-rooms have been closed to them. Who still thinks them wise?
So listen: The Vandals are cousins of your dear masters, the
Ostrogoths. They came about a hundred years ago--men, women, and
children, perhaps fifty thousand in number--from Spain to Africa. Their
leader was a terrible king, Gizericus by name (commonly called
Genseric); a worthy comrade of Attila, the Hun. He defeated the Romans
in hard-fought battles, captured Carthage, plundered Rome. He was never
vanquished. The crown passed to his heirs, the Asdings, who were said
to be descended from the pagan gods of the Germans. The oldest male
scion of the family always ascends the throne.
But Genseric's posterity inherited only his sceptre, not his greatness.
The Catholics in their kingdom (the Vandals are heretics, Arians) were
most cruelly persecuted, which was more stupid than it was unjust. It
really was not so very unjust; they merely applied to the Catholics,
the Romans, in their kingdom the selfsame laws which the Emperor in the
Roman Empire had previously issued against the Arians. But it was
certainly extremely stupid. What harm can the few Arians do in the
Roman Empire? But the numerous Catholics in the Vandal kingdom could
overthrow it, if they should rebel. True; they will not rise
voluntarily. But we are coming to rouse them.
Shall we conquer? There is much probability of it. King Hilderic lived
in Constantinople a long time, and is said to have secretly embraced
the Catholic faith. He is Justinian's friend: this great-grandson of
Genseric abhors war. He has dealt his own kingdom the severest blow by
transforming its best prop, the friendship with the Ostrogoths in
Italy, into mortal hatred. The wise King Theodoric at Ravenna made a
treaty of friendship and brotherhood with Thrasamund, the predecessor
of Hilderic, gave him his beautiful, clever sister, Amalafrida, for his
wife, and bestowed upon the latter for her dowry, besides much
treasure, the headland of Lilybaeum in Sicily, directly opposite
Carthage, which was of great importance to the Vandal kingdom. He also
sent him as a permanent defence against the Moors--probably against us
too--a band of one thousand chosen Gothic warriors, each of whom had
five brave men under him. Hilderic was scarcely king when the royal
widow Amalafrida was accused of high treason against him and threatened
with death.
If Justinian and Theodora did not invent this high treason, I have
little knowledge of my adored rulers: I saw the smile with which they
received the news from Carthage. It was the triumph of the bird-catcher
who draws his snare over the fluttering prey.
Amalafrida's Goths succeeded in rescuing her from imprisonment and
accompanying her on her flight. She intended to seek refuge with
friendly Moors, but on her way she was overtaken and attacked by the
King's two nephews with a superior force. The faithful Goths fought and
fell almost to a man; the Queen was captured and murdered in prison.
Since that time fierce hate has existed between the two nations; the
Goths took Lilybaeum back and from it cast vengeful glances at Carthage.
This is King Hilderic's sole act of government! Since that time he has
seen clearly that it will be best for his people to be subject to us.
But he is almost an old man, and his cousin--unfortunately the rightful
heir to the throne--is our worst enemy. His name is Gelimer. He must
never be permitted to reign in Carthage; for he is considered the
stronghold and hero, nay, the soul of the Vandal power. He first
defeated the natives, the Moors, those sons of the desert who had
always proved superior to the weak descendants of Genseric.
But this Gelimer--it is impossible for me to obtain from the
contradictory reports a satisfactory idea of him. Or could a German
really possess such contradictions of mind and character? They are all
mere children, though six and a half feet tall; giants, with the souls
of boys. Nearly all of them have a single trait,--the love of
carousing. Yet this Gelimer--well, we shall see.
Widely varying opinions of the entire Vandal nation are held here.
According to some they are terrible foes in battle, like all Germans,
and as Genseric's men undoubtedly were. But, from other reports, in the
course of three generations under the burning sun of Africa, and
especially from living among our provincials there--the most corrupt
rabble who ever disgraced the Roman name--they have become effeminate,
degenerate. The hero Belisarius of course despises this foe, like every
other whom he knows and does not know.
The gods have intrusted to me the secret correspondence which is to
secure success. I am now expecting important news from numerous Moorish
chiefs; from the Vandal Governor of Sardinia; from your Ostrogothic
Count in Sicily; from the richest, most influential senator in
Tripolis; nay, even from one of the highest ecclesiastics--it is hard
to believe--of the heretical church itself. The latter was a
masterpiece. Of course he is not a Vandal, but a Roman! No matter! An
Arian priest in league with us. I attribute it to our rulers. You know
how I condemn their government of our empire; but where the highest
statecraft is at stake,--that is, to win traitors in the closest
councils of other sovereigns and thus outwit the most cunning, there I
bow the knee admiringly to these gods of intrigue. If only--
A letter from Belisarius summons me to the Golden House: "Bad news from
Africa! The war is again extremely doubtful. The apparent traitors
there betrayed Justinian, not the Vandals. This comes from such false
wiles. Help, counsel me! Belisarius."
How? I thought the secret letters from Carthage were to come, by
disguised messengers, only to me? And through me to the Emperor? That
was his express order; I read it myself. Yet still more secret ones
arrive, whose contents I learn only by chance? This is your work, O
Demonodora!