Without a word of acknowledgment, but with the air of one who had discharged a prophetic mission, Erotion glided from the presence-chamber. Many eyes followed her retreating form, so graceful in its youthful dignity; but the longest and most lingering gaze was that of the young and noble warrior, Alcinous.
Chapter V
It was once again the high festival in honour of Diana Taurica. The young novices, the priestesses, even Iphigenia herself, had donned their green tunics, and were celebrating in the forest the rites of the huntress-queen. Green leaves danced, and sunbeams glimmered among the trees, through glades where Pan might have piped to the Hamadryads, or Silenus presided at the revels of the young Bacchus and the Fauns. The virgins of the temple felt the beauty of the spot, and songs of delight rose up from the lonely wood.
Erotion was among the band; but her heart was too full to sympathize with their joyous sports: she seemed weighed down by excess of happiness, and sought to be alone, to realize the blissful certainty that her father would not die.
The King had pledged his royal word that the horrible sacrifice should not take place; that at midnight the prisoner should be conveyed to the sea-shore, placed in a boat, and left to the mercy of the same ocean deities, who had wafted him to Taurica. More than this Erotion dared not implore - but she feared little the wrath of the waters, compared to that terrible doom which had seemed hanging over Tisamenes. Her heart was no longer oppressed - this new and beloved tie had weaned her thoughts from those imaginings which had haunted her from childhood, causing her to be looked upon as one inspired. Earthly affections had sprung up within her young bosom; she clung to life, for the world was no more solitary ; she forgot even her mysterious dream in the devotion of filial love.
Erotion quitted her companions, and wandered to a lonely and quiet dell, which no human foot save her own had ever entered: only the hind came hither with her fawns, and the nightingale broke the stillness with her music. As Erotion entered, she heard her name breathed in tones low and tender as those which wooed Ariadne on the shore of Naxos. She turned, and beside her stood a youth, so beautiful in face, so graceful in form, that Apollo when keeping the flocks of Admetus was not fairer. It was Alcinous, the prince of Taurica.
Grateful tears came to the eyes of Erotion, as she remembered how he had knelt before his father's throne, and joined his prayer to hers; and then she trembled - for even to the King's son it was death to be found in the sacred wood.
"I bless thee - I will ever remember thee, gentle and noble prince," cried Erotion; 'but stay not here."
He heard her words as if understanding them not; but gazed on her as if it were a deity whom he beheld.
"Erotion - beautiful Erotion - hast thou ever seen a shadow following thy footsteps day after day, haunting thee in the temple, in the forest, to the very prison-doors - and knewest not that it was I? Erotion, I say not that I love thee - I worship thee, I adore thee - I kneel before thee now as thou dost kneel before thy goddess. I would die for thee, and yet I dare not ask of thee one answering word - Erotion, I dare not say, 'Love me!'"
The young girl listened to these new and strange words, as if she heard them in a dream: no blush dyed her cheek, no maidenly shame bent her head.
"Why sayest thou that I love thee not?" she answered, calmly; "I love all that is good and beautiful on earth: the birds, the trees - why should I not love thee? Thou, too, didst entreat for my father, whom I love best of all."
Alcinous looked at her, and saw that in that pure and heavenly mind there was no trace of a love like that which consumed him. He dashed himself on the ground at her feet, and cried in passionate tones -
"Erotion, this is not love like mine for thee; thou must love me - me only - as thy mother loved thy father. Thou must leave all for my sake, as I for thine - home, father, country. Oh, maiden, this is love."
She turned on him her calm, soft eyes, and said -
"Alcinous, the love of which thou speakest, is not for me. I am a priestess - I have never felt thus. Rise, dear prince, and talk no more of such love. Do not grieve," she continued, in sweet and compassionate tones, as Alcinous lifted from the grass his face, bedewed with burning tears. "Do no grieve - I pity thee - I love thee with the only love I can give; but I am vowed to heaven and to my father - he is saved, and I am happy."
Again the youth burst forth impetuously -
"Erotion, dost thou believe that false oath? - Thy father must perish - his freedom is but a stratagem - no power can save him from death."
The young priestess grew cold as marble, but she stood immovable before her lover. He went on rapidly -
"Tisamenes must die - a subtle and lingering poison will be administered in the farewell cup of Chian wine; then pretended liberty will be given to him, when already bound in the iron fetters of slow but certain death."
"Is there no hope?" said Erotion, in a tone so deadly calm, that it was terrible to hear.
"None; for the guards are sworn to see that the poisoncup has been drained before the prisoner is set free."
A light from the setting sun illumined the face of Erotion. It became radiant with joy, until it was all but divine. Alcinous saw it not: with bowed head he pursued his vows and prayers -
"Erotion, thou wilt be left alone - thy father will die; oh, let me be thy comforter - let me teach thee to love as I love thee. Come, my beloved."
"Not yet - not yet," murmured Erotion, in a strangely altered voice; "the goddess must be obeyed; I see it now - I hear the mystic song - it is destiny. Yes, Alcinous, I come."
Wild with rapturous joy, Alcinous pressed her hand to his lips, his breast, his brow, and then vanished through the trees, as the singing train of priestesses was heard approaching nearer.
When the moon had risen, and the choral hymn to Cynthia was yet pealing through the city, Erotion came to the gate of the prison where Tisamenes of Crete, now freed from the chains which had bound his limbs, waited for the blessed time of liberty. His daughter stood beside him, and kissed his hands, his robe, with a rapturous expression of joy.
"The hour is almost come, my father," she cried, "and thou wilt be free. We shall depart hence, I and thou; far over the sea we will sail together. Ay," she continued, "this night I shall cross it - the wild, wild sea - the desert shore - I remember all."
And then a shivering came over the maiden, and her words sank in broken murmurings.
"Thou art not afraid, my child," said Tisamenes, "not even of the gloomy ocean, when I am with thee."
"No, no," hastily cried Erotion; "I think but of thee - I am happy, most happy, 0 my father."
As she spoke, her eyes glanced anxiously round the prison, and rested on a goblet of carved wood, filled to the brim with Chian wine.
"I thirst, I thirst, my father," said Erotion, in low tones, as her head drooped upon his shoulder; "I have been on a weary journey in the forest this day; wilt thou give me to drink?"
Tisamenes placed the cup in his daughter's hand.
"The gods have been good to us this day; it is meet we should acknowledge their benefits," she said. "0 thou, whom we worship as Diana Triformis, accept the offering I bring thee now - a libation not unworthy of thee." And lifting upwards her calm eyes, Erotion poured on the floor of the dungeon a few drops from the goblet; then putting it to her lips she drained it to the dregs.
"My father, my father," she cried, throwing herself on the breast of Tisamenes, as the guard of Thoas entered. "The will of Diana is accomplished; thou art indeed saved!"
Chapter VI
Beneath the silence of the midnight moon, a boat put off from the shore of Taurica. In it were only an old man and a girl, Tisamenes of Crete and his daughter. The little vessel had scarcely spread its hoary wings, when a dark figure sprang from behind a rock, and plunging into the sea, pursued the boat. Soon from the waves that revelled around its prow, rose the head of Alcinous; his golden locks dripping with brine, and his eyes eagerly fixed where Erotion sat, silent and calm, by her father's
side. Tisamenes drew the youth into the boat.
"Thou wouldst leave me, then, Erotion," Alcinous cried, passionately, "but it shall not be so. I will follow thee wherever thou goest, whether thou lovest me or not - through life, unto death."
"Be it so, Alcinous," replied the young priestess in her own low tones. She took his hand, pressed it softly in hers, and then turned again to her father.
Hour after hour the three floated over the ocean, which lay sleeping in the moonlight, nor suffered one angry wave to rise on its bosom, to bring fear or danger to the fugitives. Erotion half reclined in her father's arms, while Alcinous lay crouched at her feet, never turning his eyes from her, except to look anxiously and mournfully at Tisamenes of Crete. Erotion spoke little; was it only the moonlight that made her countenance appear at times so deadly pale? Alcinous thought so, but the expression it wore was so divine that a feeling of awe crept over him, stilling even the passionate emotions of his love. At times he fancied the cold sea-breeze made her whole frame tremble; now and then he saw her lips quiver; she would clasp her father's hand with an agonized movement, and be calm again.
The moon sank, and the night grew dark. A heavy sleep, which Alcinous thought was the forerunner of death, fell upon Tisamenes. The youth hardly dared to breathe, lest he should bring anguish to her he loved so well. Anxiously did he watch for the first streak of dawn, and, as it appeared, a cold wandering hand touched his lips, thrilling his inmost frame.
It was too dark to see Erotion's face; but her voice sounded faint and quivering.
"Alcinous, my father sleeps; tell him all is well with me. It was I who drank of the doomed cup: I have fulfilled my destiny; he is saved!"
A light sigh, a faint movement, were all that Alcinous distinguished: the little cold hand still lay on his cheek - sealing up all horror and anguish in an awful peace. Ere long the broad sunbeam glided over the water, and rested on the sleepers; one wrapped in the calm slumber of weariness after toil; the other - ay, she lay sleeping also, but it was eternal rest.
As Alcinous looked, he saw what seemed a white dove rise in the air. Whence it came he knew not; it hovered awhile over the vessel, then spread its dazzling wings to the sun, and departed. The youth watched it as it flew over the brightening sea, over the lovely shore to which they were safely drifting, over the blue mountains higher and higher, until he saw it no more. Then Alcinous knew that it was the spirit of the beautiful, the self-devoted one whom the gods had loved and taken away - that it was the soul of Erotion.
ALFRED TENNYSON (1809-1892) was the third writer included in these pages to be elevated to the peerage. He was one of the leading poets of the Victorian era, and in 1850 he succeeded Wordsworth as poet laureate. The poems in his early collections of 1830 and 1833 were replete with classical and folkloristic imagery; the latter included "The Lady of Shallott" and "The Lotus-Eaters". In 1842 he issued a selection of these older works together with some previously unpublished items, including "Morte d'Arthur'.
"Morte D'Arthur" ultimately became the seed of the Idylls of the King, which was first issued in segments between 1859 and 1885; the whole sequence was published in its final form in 1891. Though not as wide-ranging as Malory's Morte D'Arthur, the Idylls present the entire lifestory of Arthur and the history of Lancelot, as well as a wealth of detail concerning minor characters. Tennyson's became the definitive nineteenth century version of the group of legends, and it embodies a thoroughly Victorian attitude to the adultery of Guenevere (who is made to grovel on the floor while Arthur denounces her at length, before eventually offering his forgiveness).
Some of Tennyson's contemporaries disliked the Idylls intensely and thought them inferior work (although they sold very well indeed), but some modern critics have found in them a daringly original symbolic vision of impending apocalypse. However they are evaluated, though, the Idylls remain one of the most significant lenses through which modern eyes perceive the substance of Arthurian legend, and Tennyson's work in this vein consequently has a highly significant place in the evolution of British fantasy.
by Alfred Lord Tennyson
LEWIS CARROLL was the pseudonym used by the Reverend Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (1832-1898) on Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (1865) and its sequel Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There (1872), the two classic works of Victorian children's fantasy. Dodgson used his expertise in logical sophistry and his fondness for tricky wordplay to devastating effect in these two stories, whose adult readers cannot have realised how deftly they mocked and subverted the rigidities of the Victorian world-view in producing a phantasmagorically-disguised account of its follies.
The Hunting of the Snark (1876) is equally fine, but perhaps even Dodgson did not know quite what he had accomplished or how, because he seemed to lose the knack entirely afterwards. The overlong and unutterably tedious fairy romance contained in Sylvie and Bruno (1889) and Sylvie and Bruno Concluded (1893) tries to be constructive instead of anarchic, and the abysmal magnitude of its failure is startling.
"The Walking Stick of Destiny " is one of the earliest stories that Dodgson wrote, but it already demonstrates his predilection for linguistic and logical tomfoolery; it was rescued from a manuscript version penned in 1850 or thereabouts for posthumous publication in 1932.
By Lewis Carroll
Chapter I
The Baron was pacing his tapestried chamber two mortal hours ere sunrise. Ever and anon he would pause at the open casement, and gaze from its giddy height on the ground beneath. Then a stern smile would light up his gloomy brow and muttering to himself in smothered accents, "'twill do" he would again resume his lonely march.
Uprose the glorious sun, and illumined the darkened world with the light of day: still was the haughty Baron pacing his chamber, albeit his step was hastier and more impatient than before, and more than once he stood motionless, listening anxiously and eagerly, then turned with a disappointed air upon his heel, while a darker shade passed over his brow. Suddenly the trumpet which hung at the castle gate gave forth a shrill blast: the Baron heard it, and savagely beating his breast with both his clenched fists, he murmured in bitter tone "the time draws nigh, I must nerve myself for action." Then, throwing himself into an easy chair, he hastily drank off the contents of a large goblet of wine which stood on the table, and in vain attempted to assume an air of indifference. The door was suddenly thrown open and in a loud voice an attendant announced "Signor Blowski!"
"Be seated! Signor! you are early this morn, and Alonzo! ho! fetch a cup of wine for the Signor! spice it well, boy! ha! ha! ha!" and the Baron laughed loud and boisterously, but the laugh was forced and hollow, and died quickly away. Meanwhile the stranger, who had not uttered a syllable, carefully divested himself of his hat and gloves, and seated himself opposite to the Baron, then having quietly waited till the Baron's laughter had subsided, he commenced in a harsh grating tone, "The Baron Muggzwig greets you, and sends you this"; why did a sudden paleness overspread the Baron Slogdod's features? why did his fingers tremble, so that he could scarcely open the letter? for one moment he glanced at it, and then raising his head, "Taste the wine, Signor," he said in strangely altered tone, "regale yourself, I pray," handing him one of the goblets which had just been brought in.
The Signor received it with a smile, put his lips to it, and then quietly changing goblets with the Baron without his perceiving it, swallowed half the contents at a draught. At that moment Baron Slogdod looked up, watched him for a moment as he drank, and smiled the smile of a wolf.
For full ten minutes there was a dead silence through the apartment, and then the Baron closed the letter, and raised his face: their eyes met: the Signor had many a time faced a savage tiger at bay without flinching, but now he involuntarily turned away his eyes. Then did the Baron speak in calm and measured tone: "You know, I presume, the contents of this letter?" the Signor bowed, "and you await an answer?" "I do". "This, then, is my answer," shouted the Baron, rushing upon him, and in another moment he had pre
cipitated him from the open window. He gazed after him for a few seconds as he fell, and then tearing up the letter which lay on the table into innumerable pieces, he scattered them to the wind.
Chapter II
"One! two! three!" The magician set down the bottle, and sank exhausted into a seat: "Nine weary hours," he sighed, as he wiped his smoking brow, "nine weary hours have I been toiling, and only got to the eight-hundred and thirtysecond ingredient! a-well! I verily believe Martin Wagner hath ordered three drops of everything on the face of this earth in his prescription. However, there are only a hundred and sixty-eight ingredients more to put in - 'twill soon be done - then comes the seething - and then - " He was checked in his soliloquy by a low timid rap outside: " 'Tis Blowski's knock," muttered the old man, as he slowly undid the bars and fastenings of the door, "I marvel what brings him here at this late hour. He is a bird of evil omen: I do mistrust his vulture face. - Why! how now, Signor?" he cried, starting back in surprise as his visitor entered, "where got you that black eye? and verily your face is bruised like any rainbow! who has insulted you? or rather, " he muttered in an undertone, "whom have you been insulting, for that were the more likely of the two."
"Never mind my face, good father, " hastily answered Blowski, "I only tripped up, coming home last night in the dark, that's all, I do assure you. But I am now come on other business - I want advice - or rather I should say I want your opinion - on a difficult question - suppose a man was to - suppose two men - suppose there were two men, A and B -" "suppose! suppose!" contemptuously muttered the magician, "and suppose these men, good father, that is A, was to bring B a letter, then we'll suppose A read the letter, that is B, and then B tried - I mean A tried - to poison B - I mean A - and then suppose" - "My son," here interposed the old man, "is this a general case you are putting? Methinks you state it in a marvellously confused manner." "Of course it's a general case," savagely answered Blowski, "and if you'd just listen instead of interrupting, methinks you'd understand it better!" "Proceed, my son," mildly replied the other.
The Dedalus Book of British Fantasy: 19th Century (European Literary Fantasy Anthologies) Page 17
